#love spell victim symptoms

[demonic0angel]

Haunted Paintings Sketches!

Part one

I hope you enjoy the sketches I made of the paintings!

Also! You’re free to use my ideas (please give credit ofc) if you’d like, bc I REALLY don’t think I’ll write this one, no matter how much I want to. It’s just too much and I’ve already got 3 unfinished fics and several other series to write for. If you have any questions, feel free to ask or send me a submission! You can also DM if you’d like!

TW: mentions of suicide, murder, depression, mental illness, just really dark, creepy stuff bc these are haunted paintings and they torment people :/ no scary drawings tho! I only described them (click for clarity)

Jazz:

Description: Jazz is sitting at a table in the middle of a flower garden with a book in one hand and a teacup in the other. She looks tranquil and is dressed formally. On the table are a few plates, a plate of cookies, a bookmark, an opened envelope and a bloody butter knife, and a teapot that is slightly out of view.

Use of mediums: gouache paint, watercolor, and pencils

Focus: Jazz amidst the flowers

Inspirations:

• The Queen of Hearts from “Alice in Wonderland”

• Galna from “Mairimashita! Iruma-kun”

Location: She used to be in the home of a random crime lord in Gotham for intimidation purposes. She was kept in the crime lord’s office before being relocated into Wayne Manor, where she sits in the hall across from the library.

Extra facts:

+ Her scary form would be one where her tea is filled with blood and the roses would be replaced with decapitated heads. The sky would turn dark red and the ground would be a pool of blood. Jazz would smile and look at the viewer with shark-like fangs and hollowed out eyes.

+ The tea she drinks is Darjeeling and the cookies are chocolate chip.

+ Although Jazz is the weakest painting, her effects are deadlier, more painful, and longer lasting than the others if her victims survive.

+ She causes paranoia and dizzy spells. Her effects are rather weak compared to the others, but when spending enough time with her, victims can also display symptoms of scurvy, which cannot be cured.

+ She was the first one I drew and also the easiest to plan. I just love her so much, she’s one of my comfort characters so it’s not hard for me to find ideas for her 😭

Valerie:

Description: Valerie stands in the middle of a dark, foggy forest, wearing a long dress and pressed close to a tree as if she is about to hide behind it. A branch covers her face and the trees around her curve into a circle with multiple holes within them. There is a Fenton thermos in the background on the floor and an axe in front of Valerie, sticking into the tree and oozing something.

Use of mediums: pencils and watercolor paint

Focus: Her hidden face

Inspirations:

• The Son of Man by René Magritte

• The Beast from “Over the Garden Wall”

Location: She was kept in the back of an art museum, but the director has been hoping for someone to buy her and get rid of her, since he cannot handle the strain of having her inside of the gallery. Now she stands near the door to the entrance of Wayne Manor, a silent and deadly sentry.

Extra facts:

+ Her scary form would have her surroundings to turned into the entrance to a mouth or an intestine, red, fleshy, and bloody. There would be bones littering the floor everywhere and Valerie herself would become bloody and stained, with her face still hidden. Tortured faces would be seen through the fog.

+ The holes on the trees sometimes leak a mysterious substance.

+ Valerie is not the weakest, but she is not that powerful. However, she does amplify the others’ effects to fatal degrees.

+ She causes paranoia and auditory hallucinations, often causing her victims to feel as though they are being watched relentlessly, which cannot go away. Eventually, her victims will shut themselves into their rooms and starve to death from the fear.

+ She and Tucker had switched ideas, but I had to trash them. I never got the opportunity to draw those ideas because I struggled so much with Tucker that when I eventually got inspiration for Valerie, I just went with it. I’m quite happy with Valerie’s portrait now.

Dani:

Description: Dani, dressed formally, sits at the head of a table with a large painting and curtains behind her. She holds a fork and a knife over a pig head. Her gaze is downward and she looks like she’s frowning softly. The dinner table is messy with three other dishes and a knocked over bottle of wine.

Use of mediums: oil paint and oil pastels

Focus: Dani holding the fork and knife

Inspirations:

• Rosie’s Tea Party by Mark Ryden

• “Spirited Away” (specifically that one scene where Chihiro’s parents eat the food)

Location: She was hidden by Vlad and kept safe with him. He keeps her in his office, where he can watch her. He only recently found her again, and he was determined to watch over her. Now she stays in the Wayne Manor's dining room, but often changes her position to be next to everyone else in the bedroom hallway.

Extra facts:

+ Her scary form would be one where all of her food dishes would be replaced by very obviously human parts, especially with the pig head becoming a human head. The curtains would turn to blood dripping down the wall and Dani would be smiling, taking a direct bite of the human head that was in front of her with her fork and knife.

+ The dishes she eats in the painting are: pig head, vulture thigh, lamprey eels, and sheep brain.

+ Her at the dining table is meant to signify greed and gluttony, 2 of the most simplest sins.

+ She causes great feelings of hunger and paranoia in others. When spending too much time with her, some victims turn to self-cannibalism to sate their never ending starvation.

+ Originally, both her and Dan’s ideas were switched, so Dan would’ve been the one feasting and Dani would’ve been the one looking at her reflection. However, I switched them around because I felt like it would’ve been spookier. I even finished the drawing with Dan and everything, but then I just erased him and drew in Dani 😓

Dan:

Description: Dan is standing in front of a mirror, glancing behind his shoulder, while his reflection shows something different: him looking at everyone else and the door behind him by looking at the mirror. The party guests are all wearing masks and there are chandeliers on the ceiling. The party looks vaguely fancy, but messy with secrets.

Use of mediums: Oil paints

Focus: His reflection

Inspirations:

• Jeff Lee Johnson and his art

Location: He was kept in a locked safe within a rich person’s house in Italy. He had to been wrecking havoc on the nerves of everyone around him, but he is now safe and happy in Wayne Manor, where he is kept in the office to the entrance of the Batcave.

Extra facts:

+ His scary form would have all of the party guests dead, but their eyes would face the viewer. Dan's reflection would also be dead, but his actual self would be the same, only with an eerie smile as his eyes follow the viewer. In the doorway would be the figure of Danny. Blood would cover the entire floor and walls, but nobody would react to it.

+ Dan keeps his own masquerade mask in his pocket.

+ The woman who is directly staring at him is supposed to look like Maddie.

+ He causes viewers intense mood swings and long, often violent mania episodes or mind-numbing depression episodes. Those who keep staring at him will gain the feeling of being watched and haunted, often with visual hallucinations, resulting in losing their mind from fear and then killing others in their terror and panic.

+ I tried so hard to make Dan as handsome as possible. I think I pulled it off bc I’m a little bit in love with him ong, but I also kinda have to be bc I draw him so often

Tucker:

Description: Tucker is in the back shot of a desert, with his back towards the viewer, staring at a large skeleton that is seemingly climbing over a large sand dune. The skeleton has flowers in its eyes, and its hand reaches over the horizon. There is a single sun in the sky and an arm holding a pocket watch sticks out of the sand close to the viewer.

Use of mediums: gouache paint, pens, and pencils

Focus: The large skull

Inspirations:

• JT Music (specifically their JT album covers)

• The Giant God Warrior from “Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind”

• “Dune”

Location: He was originally kept in one of the rooms within the GIW headquarters. Now, he is kept within Wayne Manor, and stays in the theater room, where he whispers to the Wayne residents what movies he wants to watch. Sometimes, he moves to the garage.

Extra facts:

+ His scary form is one where the skull becomes covered in meat and flesh, oozing blood and tar while the sand turns red. The scene turns to darkness, and more limbs would sprout from the ground. Tucker would be nothing but a pile of flayed skin, crumpled into the sand.

+ GIW agents were unable to experiment on him, since he would purposefully cause machinery to misfire and slowly corrode his surroundings.

+ His painting is meant to be a little comic book-esque with one of his mediums being ink, but I felt like that wouldn’t be a PAINTing, so nvm

+ He causes visual hallucinations, hypovolemia, headaches, blindness, and osteoporosis :). Often, when his victims are autopsied, sand and salt can be found within all of their organs. He emits so much radiation that he can wear down the materials of the place he is stored in.

+ I DREW HIM THREE DIFFERENT TIMES OML, FIRST IT WAS HIM IN A WORKSHOP, THEN IT WAS HIM IN A MARSH, THIS IS THE FINAL PICTURE I CANNOTTTT IM DONE

Sam:

Description: Sam stands on top of a small, grassy hill with a path leading to a grave and an angel statue on top of it, close enough that she is blocking it. Around the hill are pomegranate trees and hanging corpses. There is no sun, but there are clouds as Sam stands with her back to the viewers in a long goth-styled dress.

Use of mediums: paper, glue, acrylic paint

Focus: Her standing on the hill

Inspirations:

• This Reddit picture of a liminal garden

• A mix of weirdcore and dreamcore aesthetics

Location: She was tossed into the ocean by her parents when they first saw her, but she later washed up on an island and now the animals and plants there act erratically and strangely. Finally, she was relocated to Wayne Manor, where she hangs on a wall within the greenhouse, happily watching over the plants there.

Extra facts:

+ Her scary form would be one where eyes would replace all of the pomegranates, staring at the viewer. The paper used to make her would become flesh textured and bloody, and Sam would appear abnormal, broken into pieces and cracked, turning around and smiling at the viewer with shark-like teeth. The grass would become hairy skin and the sky would become red, with swirls and more eyes.

+ Sam's "painting" is actually made of mostly paper, since it is a collage. It is a bit touched up by paint and all of the materials used are vegan and ethically sourced, though they do change.

+ The flora and fauna in the island she landed on have mutated so much that they’re basically mindless. They protect Sam relentlessly.

+ She causes general insanity and relentless symptoms in her victims, such as paranoia, intense episodes of mania and depression, itchiness that can result in self harm, and violent, unexplained behavior in animals and plants. She also emits so much radiation that she can cause sporadic DNA mutations, resulting in several forms of cancer and mental instability, often resulting in victims becoming inhuman and monstrous forms of themselves.

+ Originally, Sam’s portrait was supposed to be in a garden, but I wanted it more “liminal space” themed, and I think I got it right. I think it’s really simple, but I also feel like if I was able to create it in real life, it would be more interesting because it is a collage of paper and paint.

Danny:

Description: a picture of black blotches and scribbles with muddy and red stains. Any features besides the ornate frame is hidden underneath the stains.

Use of mediums: pencils, ink, charcoal, tar, blood

Focus: His crying

Inspirations:

• SCP-035 (“The Possessive Mask”)

• The Anguished Man by an unknown artist (it’s a haunted irl painting!)

• Bendy and the Ink Machine

Location: He was cloning himself in order to jump through universes to find his family. In the current universe, he was with the League of Shadows before he was found and brought back to the Wayne Manor. He is in the hallway with the bedrooms of the Wayne residents.

Extra facts:

+ His scary form is technically his normal form because he cannot turn it off. Once he is happy again, his normal form would be one with him and his family, smiling and happy. Until then, he haunts the minds of others and ravages their sanity.

+ He’s been traveling all over the multiverse in order to find his family. Coincidentally, they’ve all been in the same world for some time.

+ He screams all day and night for his family. It’s so bad that Danny has destroyed thousands of worlds in his grief.

+ He causes the worst of all symptoms, often causing the viewers who look at him to go insane and kill themselves or others, even if it is only a few seconds. Even those who stay in the same room next door to him are consumed with suicidal thoughts and intense moments of psychosis. Those who have survived encountering him and have some semblance of mind left say that he “cries” relentlessly. His paintings leak a black substance that corrodes the place around him.

+ Literally all I did for this picture was scribble in my notes app, take a screenshot, and then scribble some more on photos LMAO

Extra notes:

+ Jazz, Dani, and Dan showing their face while Sam, Tucker, and Valerie hiding theirs is intentional. Danny is a mix of both, because he actually IS showing his face, but you can’t see it past the black and red.

+ Every painting has a flower inside of it, specifically a carnation, which are often funeral flowers, and can mean gratitude, remembrance, love, and affection.

+ Every painting also has a mention or appearance of Danny in it.

+ I also tried to put hints of bad omens or signs of death within every painting. Some examples are Dani’s painting with the chopsticks sticking out of the bowl (a sign of bad luck and death), or Dan’s painting, where a woman is being strangled in the background and another is being killed.

+ All of the paintings generally have an ability to teleport to places nearby and can actually snatch up viewers to shove them into their domain. This can be a defensive mechanism (the paintings protect the Bats) or an offensive ability (they pull victims in and kill them). They also all have weapons on them that are hidden or not so hidden.

+ I struggled a lot with ideas and how to get started on some characters because I just had so many, and I wanted it to be creepy, but not noticeably creepy, like most paintings. I’m sad to say that I wasn’t able to use some of my planned ideas from inspirations of actual haunted paintings.

+ Discarded inspirations: The Rain Woman by Svetlana Telets (my favorite!! Please look it up if you can!!), this picture I saw on Reddit of a sheep being stuck under ice with its back exposed, a workshop idea with Tucker, and Dani and “Daughter of Evil” with mirrors and everything.

+ The world where Danny and co., come from is different from the world they’re currently in. It’s like a world where some people are the same, but others are not. Example: the GIW, Maddie, Jack, and Vlad exist, but Danny and Jazz never made it past their childhood. So basically a What-If world or something.

+ Their backstories are somewhat undecided, but basically, something dangerous happened to them in their home dimension and it was so bad that Danny captured all of their souls and put them into paintings so they would live (with the help of Clockwork). However, by doing this, he scattered their souls and paintings throughout the universes and he went crazy from it, and turned himself into a painting too so he could find them. Now his cloned paintings travel and sends itself to other worlds to find his family again, often leading to their destruction from his power.

Or something? Lol

[ghost-1-y]

Nightmare

Incubus!Gojo x AFAB!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, dark content, dubcon, stalking, yandere themes, infidelity/cheating, manipulation, possessiveness, sexual content, penetrative sex, oral sex (f! receiving), aphrodisiac, blood sucking, using horns as handles, symptoms of sleep paralysis, feelings of insecurity (reader), mentions of voyeurism (gojo), dacryphilia, degradation, corruption k!nk, gojo feeds off of reader's life force, mentions of potential exhibitionism (reader’s husband might hear them going at it), breeding k!nk, mentions of impregnation, creamp!e, no aftercare, reader's husband is nanami-coded, please let me know if I missed anything!!

Summary: It’s been weeks since your husband had touched you in the way that you wished, and you’ve started to grow tired of his constant flirting with other women at work. Completely fed up with both him and the never-ending dry spell you’ve been going through, you retire to the guest room’s bed to fall asleep without your husband, unaware of a shadow that’s been lurking in your home each night, waiting for the right moment to prey on its new victim.

Word Count: ~3.6k

Divider Credit: @/benkeibear

A/N: Sorry this is an hour late!! I had a super busy week and didn't get to edit/revise at all until today, but I hope it's worth the wait!

Y/N’s POV

You were tired.

Not in the normal sense – you didn’t feel a need to sleep. On the contrary, you found it quite challenging to do so recently due to the never-ending thoughts of your unhappy marriage, as you wondered how exactly it reached this point in the first place. At first, your marriage was beautiful – you were in love, and everything in life was tinted in rose. Your husband treated you as his one and only, his everything, his soulmate.

When are you having kids?

You two look so cute together. 

I wish my marriage was as happy as yours!

Your friends and family would always compliment you and ask you for the latest details of what you and your husband were up to. You were soaring, so happy that you found someone to share your life with. 

But then, he started working overtime at his job, started taking on more shifts, and you’d go to sleep on an empty bed and wake up to his side being cold the next morning – nothing indicating that he was there other than the disheveled sheets that he didn’t bother to fix before heading out again. Your mornings were lonely, and your nights were quiet. You started making dinner for one, rather than wasting food on a meal that wouldn’t be eaten. You tried to be understanding of your husband’s absence, knowing that his job required a lot of him, so you never told him how much it bothered you, thinking it would only add more to his never-ending pile of worries.

It truly felt as though a ghost lived in your home, only ever seeing remnants of life from the half-empty coffee mug or the folded-up newspaper that was left discarded on the dining table. The fridge would be left ajar and the front door unlocked as though he was in such a rush to get to work that he couldn’t be bothered about simple things – relegating those tasks to you, his good little housewife.

Sometimes, whenever a door closed on its own, or you thought you saw something out of the corner of your eye, you’d jokingly call out to your husband in the emptiness of your house. Of course, you’d get no response, and you’d almost laugh at your antics if it weren’t for how your life was slowly turning gray – the rose tint slowly fading the longer you were alone.

However, one night, in your darkened bedroom, you heard a car drive up to your house. You slowly got out of bed, clinging to your sleep robes as you walked towards the window, and you saw your husband get out of the car. Warmth filled your veins as you gazed down at your husband for what seemed to be the first time in weeks, happy that you’d be able to welcome him back home. However, that warming comfort quickly dissipated as the driver also exited the car – a woman, presumably a coworker you hadn’t met – and walked over to him. As you peeked through the blinds, you saw your husband meet the woman halfway, the headlights of the car illuminating the two figures, and his hands sought her face as he kissed her.

Surprisingly, you didn’t feel your heart shatter as one might think – you had your suspicions already that he was seeing someone else, and this only confirmed your thoughts as you closed the blinds and left your shared bedroom, deciding to retire to the one meant for guests who stayed over.

Maybe that’s all I am at this point, you thought as the front door opened, only wishing to sink into the mattress and cover yourself in its sheets as you closed the guest room door behind you and removed your robe. The mattress was stiff and unused, and you stared up at the ceiling as you heard your husband’s heavy footsteps padding their way up to his room, as you became more and more of a stranger in your own home.

You tossed and turned as you walked the line between sleep and wakefulness, your thoughts racing just a bit too much to allow you to seek the comfort of dreams that you knew would never come true, or to notice the slightest creak coming from your bedroom door.

What seemed to be a hand ghosted over your hip, fingers dragging along your sides as you slowly became aware of the strange feeling grazing over your body. You squirmed, thinking it was some strange breeze that came in from the window – before you noticed the heavy weight that was pressing into your chest, rendering you nearly immobile.

“Such a waste to not take care of a pretty thing like you…” a voice drawled, and you opened your eyes – fearing that someone had trespassed into your home, only to find nothing out of the ordinary inside your little guest room. You sighed, thinking that you must’ve been hallucinating – sleep paralysis was a possible explanation, after all.

The voice, however, returned, chuckling in response to your eyes frantically searching for the source. “Oh, sweetie, your eyes can’t see me!” it exclaimed, as though it were obvious, “but I can see you, pretty, I’ve seen all of you.”

Gojo’s POV

You were sweet.

Like candy – if he were able to taste it, anyway. You had an aura about you that lit up any room you were in, one that he’d gaze upon from afar in the shadowy corners of your house, something he couldn’t touch, lest he burn from the light that was your smile. 

He loved watching you – seeing you get dressed (he loved the curves of your body), how you’d cook and clean and make everything look so pretty for a husband who didn’t appreciate it…

He especially loved watching you from one of the shadows of your bedroom as your husband fucked you – his cock throbbing as he watched you being used like the cute little cumdumpster you are, always wondering how tight your cunt would feel wrapped around his cock instead.

He would observe each and every single action because it was you who performed them.

And you looked delicious.

But he couldn’t feast upon you – not yet, at least. Your light was still too radiant, it shined upon everyone and everything and was nearly all-consuming.

So he left – just for a little while, of course. He’d be back for you, you just needed to give him some time.

He interrupted the dreams of one of your husband’s coworkers, filling her mind with lewd images and thoughts of railing your husband to the point where she just couldn’t bear it. So, eventually, she approached him at work – and he initially denied her advances, acting like the good husband he should be – but that just wouldn’t do for the plan Satoru had in mind. 

So he did the same with your husband, and provided him with dreams of fucking that same coworker, how wet and tight and good it would feel to have his filthy cock inside someone else’s pussy. Satoru knew it would hurt you, but it wasn’t completely his fault – you see, it was your husband’s choice to act on his desires, and his coworker’s choice to reciprocate despite knowing he was a married man.

And so your husband started coming home late, but not from work like you’d thought, no. He was arriving home after laying in the bed of another, engaging in an illicit affair that he excused as simply working overtime at the office. You initially believed your husband, but eventually, you developed your suspicions, and your light dulled – which pleased Satoru – because he could get closer to you. He would sometimes even try to alert you to his presence, but that never went according to plan – you’d always call out your husband’s name in response. You were loyal, and that annoyed him to no end because he already decided that you were his. 

He just had to be patient.

Until tonight – he had been watching you from the corner of your room. You couldn’t see him, of course, he was nothing more than a shadow to you. But that fated car had shown up, and as you peeked out the window, the last bits of your light finally blinked out like a dying star, and Satoru damn near rejoiced.

He soon followed you to the guest room, smirking to himself as he opened the door to see you tossing and turning, restless and alone – just how he wanted you.

Because you were his – to claim, to ruin, to feast upon.

“Such a waste to not take care of a pretty thing like you…”

Y/N’s POV

“Who are you?” you asked the darkness, eyes still darting about as you covered your top half with blankets as though that’d protect you from whoever– whatever this was.

“Hmm? Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me! Although I guess I can’t blame you – our bond isn’t quite strong enough for you to see the real me…” he considered, “you’ve called out to me many times before though, sweetie, even if it was by the wrong name – which was annoying, to say the least.” 

If you could see this…thing, you would’ve been able to discern the very obvious pout on its features. But, as its words sunk into you, a chill ran up your spine and every artery, vein, and capillary became doused in fear – realizing that this entire time you’d been joking to yourself about a ghost living in your home, it had been true. 

“My name is Satoru Gojo, sweets, so next time you call out – please use that name instead of the one owned by that disgraceful husband of yours,” the voice insisted, tracing its fingers along your side – a movement nearly invisible if it weren’t for the fabric that moved ever so slightly in response to his hand. 

“How– how do you know about my husband?” you asked, and he laughed.

“Oh, sweetie, you should realize that I know everything about you by now! I know how you take your coffee, how you perform chores around the house,” his voice dropped to a whisper, breathing directly into your ear, “how that husband of yours is unable to fuck you the way you want.”

You shuddered, unable to deny the slightest spark of arousal that nestled deep within your gut, but it did little to quell your fears of this…thing. You didn’t want to admit that he was right about your husband – not even to yourself – but the way he held that woman…

“Oh c’mon, relax. I can smell your fear, y’know – but I’m not gonna kill you!” Not yet. “I want to help.” The lies dripped like honey off of his tongue, sickly sweet as you drank them in. “Close your eyes for me, will ya? I promise I won’t bite,” he smirked.

Hesitantly, you obeyed and closed your eyes, and you felt the softest, sinful touch of his lips against yours – it was dizzying how they caressed you before he slowly entered his tongue into your mouth, causing a burning feeling to slip down your throat – as sharp as alcohol and as saccharine as sugar. Your mind relaxed, with the blood in your veins heating up before that warmth sunk down into your stomach and then lower. Your fear had been eradicated by lust, and as you finally opened your eyes, the being in front of you was one you’d never seen before – a tall, white-haired male, with eyes that deceivingly matched the heavens, who was adorned with wings and horns colored in a dark charcoal. 

“Now you see me, don’t ya, pretty?” he smirked, “I’m gonna take such good care of you – you’ll let me, won’t ya?”

You nodded without hesitation, only desiring more of the euphoric feeling that he seemed so keen on providing you with. 

“Need your words, baby, or else I can’t do anything,” he growled softly, and you squirmed underneath his weight as you forced your mouth open.

“Please,” you begged.

“Please what?”

“Please– please fuck me!”

You felt a sudden rush of cold as the bedsheets flew off of your body, leaving you stark naked on the mattress below you. Still, the cold was quickly replaced by the scorching hot yet featherlight touches of his hands tracing along your body – moving along your sides and then up towards your breasts, which he fondled before kissing you again with those syrupy lips, allowing more of that warmth to spread down your throat and into your skin. The weight on your chest was unrelenting yet pleasant as his tongue slipped into your mouth once again.

His hands toyed with your nipples, pinching and rolling them in between his fingers, pulling a gasp from you as he parted from your mouth in favor of sucking on your neck, licking a long stripe up toward your jaw before biting down just enough to draw blood with his fangs – he needed to feed off your life force somehow – you moaned as a heat spread from where he bit you all throughout your neck and shoulder, a pleasurable feeling which allowed him to drink in more of you before moving on to your tits, sinking his teeth into your nipples as well as he drinks freely from you, lapping up the blood with the flat of his tongue. You cradled his head as he sucked at your breast, encouraging him to keep going as a breathy moan escaped you – because it never felt this good before when your husband would do it. 

“Mmh, yeah? You like it when I play with your tits like this, baby?” he asked, voice muffled against your soft skin. You whined, eyes closed as you arched your back, the euphoric flow of pleasure coursing through you. He could tell you were slowly becoming obsessed with the way he was treating you – he just needed to wait a little bit longer.

“Fuck, so good– never…never felt this good before,” you moaned, and Satoru smirked as he sucked just a little bit more on your tits before traveling down towards your needy cunt.

“That so? Your husband doesn’t know how to fuck you, does he?”

You shook your head, unable to voice an answer as his breath fanned across your sopping pussy. 

“It’s okay, pretty, don’t worry – I’m here now.” 

He delved a single finger into your glistening cunt, gathering up your slick and bringing it up to his mouth to taste you. He groaned as he gathered more of it, forcing his fingers into your mouth, and your tongue immediately lapped at them like a puppy with its owner.

“You taste so good, pretty. So fuckin’ wet for me – such a good slut,” he smirked. He removed his fingers from your mouth before going back down and licking a fat stripe up your cunt, causing your legs to jolt at the touch. He snickered, “bet your husband didn’t know how to please you, bet he never even went down on you, the sick bastard.” You whined in response, causing him to chuckle. 

“Thought so.”

He buried his face into your messy cunt, his nose nudging against your swollen clit as he delved his tongue inside of your hole, licking up all of your juices into his awaiting mouth. You moaned, bucking your hips up into his face before he pinned them down, eating you out like you’re his favorite meal and he’s a man starved. It’s messy as he groaned into your heat, working his jaw as he savored your sweetness. He moved his mouth slightly up to your clit, pursing his lips around it and sucking hard as he probed two fingers into your needy hole, curling them inside of your sloppy heat. Your hands clasped around his horns and you arched your back, trying to push him deeper between your legs, obsessed with the way his fingers and tongue felt while pleasing you.

He pulled moan after moan out of your pretty little mouth, and he laughed to himself as his plan was going oh so well – to make you drunk on the pleasure he gave you until you became fully addicted and obsessed with him, becoming his little cock slut that he can breed and fill with his cum whenever he wanted.

Eventually, the tension building up in your lower abdomen snapped, and a sense of euphoria rushed through you, causing your legs to shake and clench around his head. He groaned, drinking up all of the juices that flowed out of you. Satoru looked up at you as he fed upon your cunt, and grinned as he watched your soul slowly but surely fade through his eyes. 

“I was right to choose you,” he groaned before slurping up the rest of your juices, overstimulating you as your grip on his horns tightened, pleading with him to let up on his ministrations. 

“Feeding me so well, pretty.” He nipped at your inner thigh once before sitting up and grabbing his cock, giving it a few strokes before lining it up with your sopping hole. He rubbed the bulbous head along your pussy, “tell me, how much do you want this cock, baby? You wanna get fucked by a demon like me?” 

You nodded, and if you were any less delirious you might have questioned what he meant by ‘demon’, but you were too far gone to care, simply nodding and begging “please” over and over again.

He slowly pushed his cock into you, grunting with how tight you were wrapping around him. “Shit, pretty–” he sighed, sinking into you until his balls were flush against your ass. He grabbed your legs and pulled them up so your ankles reached over his shoulders before slowly pulling out and plunging back in. His grip tightened on the flesh of your thighs as he started moving faster, his balls slapping against your ass with the force of his thrusts. Your mouth parted and tears fell down your cheeks, only being able to take what he gave you as his dick filled you up to the brim while pounding into your sopping cunt.

“You cryin’, baby?” he chuckled, and you could only whine in response.

“Good.”

He soon flipped you over and got you on all fours, slamming his cock back into you. You wailed as he kept forcing his fat cock into your greedy little cunt – the intensity only building upon itself as you felt your orgasm approaching once more. 

“‘M close…’m close,” you babbled, encouraging him to fuck you harder. Satoru reached around to rub your clit, and you gasped as you fell apart once more, gushing around his cock. Your legs trembled and you fell forward, unable to hold up your weight any longer as pleasure coursed through your veins. Satoru took this opportunity to trap you under him, with his torso flush against your back as he continued fucking into your tight pussy, not caring for how overstimulated you were becoming. 

“Fuck pretty, you love this dick, huh? Cumming all over me like that,” he grinned, his dick throbbing as he continued pounding into you. You nodded in response, but that wasn’t enough for him, so he gripped your chin and forced you to look up at him. “Uh-uh, tell me how much you love this cock, baby.” 

“Uh– fuck! Love– love it! Hah– need…need more–!” you babbled, tears flowing down your cheeks. He placed his hand around your mouth, and your moans became muffled as he dragged his cock inside your messy cunt.

“Shh, pretty, don’t want your husband to hear you getting fucked, right?” he grinned devilishly, “though, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already heard us – he’s probably stroking his dick to your sweet sounds, the cuck.”

You whined, oddly enjoying the idea that your shitty husband might be able to hear you – you took pride in the fact that he might know that you’re getting fucked better than he ever did with you. You started fucking yourself back onto Satoru’s cock, and he grinned widely – satisfied with how he’s turned you into his little cock slut. 

“Shit, baby– ‘m not gonna last much longer,” he admitted, his thrusts progressively getting sloppier and sloppier as he rutted his cock into you.

“Hah– you want me to cum inside you, baby? Want to get filled with my cum? I’ll fucking get you pregnant, breed you with my seed and turn you into my cumslut – you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fuck– say it baby, say you want me to cum inside you” he groaned, his dick pulsing inside of you as he reached his end, and you nodded your head.

“Please, please Sa- Satoru–! Cum inside me! Wan’ to be your cumslut! Please!” you begged.

“Shit– ‘m gonna cum, pretty, fuck–” He pushed deep inside you, hips flush against yours as he released his hot seed into your womb, thick ropes of his cum filling you up until it started leaking out of your abused cunt. As he pulled out of you, causing you to whine at the feeling of emptiness that it created within you.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll be back for you. I’ll visit you every night if you wish, just so you can get your fill of my cock,” and so I can get my fill of your delicious soul, he thought, grinning to himself.

Suddenly, the weight lifted off of your chest, and once you opened your eyes – he was gone, leaving you a mess with his cum leaking onto the bed sheets. You sat up and hobbled your way over to the shower to clean yourself off, trusting in his promise to come back each night.

You’d be waiting for him, not realizing that was his plan all along.

Taglist: @o-oreo , @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @perfect-again, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @kyojurismo, @crazycatlddy, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh, @223princess (if your name is crossed out, it means tumblr didn't allow me to tag you - apologies for the inconvenience)

I hope you enjoyed!!

[maxinexstars]

Arrow

Request by anon:Cupid x Female reader where the arrow hits her (just one arrow) and she falls in love with the reader

Cupid x femreader

Moodboard: @alrawabi-imagines

somehow Cupid had accidentally hit herself with one of her arrows,and you ended up being the poor soul she saw first. Now she was completely and utterly in love with you. She stood up, giggling cutely and blushing

"Well, hi there, beautiful...~" it was clear that she was very much in love. Completely and utterly, in fact. You were the object of her obsession at that moment, the target of her affections. You didn't know what was going on with her,or why she was all over you for no reason.

"Hi Cupid" She giggled and approached you with a wide and adorable smile, her cheeks a lovely pink color. She reached up and put her hand on your cheek gently, smiling more in a flirtatious way.

"You're so gorgeous~"

"What's gotten into you?" You asked,she was behaving out of character. She was usually calm and composed,the person you'd go for good advice but now she was acting like a lovesick fool.

"Hmmm, what do you mean by that...?" She blinked with a slightly clueless and naive expression, before laughing lightly as if it was a joke. "I'm just happy to see you, that's all... You make me happy~" She giggled more, and continued to lean into the conversation, now closer than ever. Thankfully the bell rang and you headed to different classes. Except you didn't go to class,you snuck away to the library. Hoping you'd find an answer to what's happening with Cupid. You searched and searched through the various books that lay within the library, before finally stumbling across the correct section,one on love. Within that section, you discovered a book that detailed cupids such as Cupid herself. The 'symptoms' section detailed that a cupid, when hit with their own arrow, would go absolutely nuts for the first person they saw. You read further,the book gave the various symptoms, which you were already experiencing, and then suggested the various methods of coping with such a cupid, including; ignoring them,which could cause a dangerous reaction, including possible violence. Having them hit another arrow on another target,which would just make another person obsessed with the cupid or trying to woo them,which is what a cupid would expect from their love target. You knew you couldn't do any of that,so you searched for a way to break the spell. The book suggested that there was something of a loophole that only a few cupids knew about, and some did accidentally stumble across it. If their 'victim' was actually in love with them back, it could nullify the effect... Which means you had to fall in love with cupid. Or fake it. You were debating as you kept flipping through the book. The last page read 'A last resort to break the spell is to break the-' the rest of the page was torn. You sighed deeply, frustrated at how you couldn't finish reading the book that gave the last piece of information needed, but then, you had a lightbulb moment. If what the book said was true, then you technically didn't have to fall in love with her,you just had to get her to believe that

you already had those feelings. Or find out what you had to break. Maybe there'd be more information in her room. You were onto something there. Perhaps her room would yield some more information, if you were lucky. You had to be sure that no one would stumble across you leaving the library though, and so you left discreetly, glancing around to make sure the coast was clear. But when you got there the door was obviously locked,why hadn't you thought of that. You knew Cupid had the key and you had to trick her into opening it for you. You waited outside her classroom and eventually she came out. She didn't even notice you as she had her earphones in, bobbing her head to whatever tune she was listening to. She was so into it that she wasn't even aware of her surroundings, the poor girl being completely distracted. She made her way to her locker,you put your hands on either side of her,on the lockers. Trapping her between the lockers and you. She was startled at first, a small squeak escaping her mouth as she turned her head to look at whoever it was that had interrupted her music... Only for her cheeks to go pink when she saw that it was you, the person she was pining over.

"O-oh,Hi there~" She spoke softly, her eyes not leaving your own, a smile spreading across her mouth. You leaned in closer

"Hey,how about we take this to your room?. Just the two of us" The pink on her cheeks only grew more noticeable as her eyes widened slightly. Cupid was clearly embarrassed, yet utterly infatuated that you were flirting with her in such a way. A love spell or not, she'd love the idea as herself or anyone else. Cupid stuttered a little, but managed to respond.

"S-sure,if you want to" She mumbled softly, letting her guard down for you. You may just be able to pull this off.

"Lead the way,darling" you cringed at yourself,simultaneously feeling bad about doing this. Cupid blushed as her expression shifted from flustered to giddy. She took your hand and began to lead you over to her room, her cheeks still a noticeable pink. As you passed others, you could see some of them giving you an odd look, clearly wondering why the love cupid would be hanging out with you so suddenly. But, you paid them no mind, focusing solely on Cupid as she continued to guide you towards her room. Her broadcasting room was a beautiful open place,with her equipment set on a table,a bookshelf which you hoped would hold the answer. As you looked around you saw an empty case with a key hanging next to it,but it was empty. "What's that for?" Cupid turned towards you in confusion, before realizing what you were talking about. She smiled and gave a soft chuckle, before answering your question.

"Oh... It's where I store my bow. I always do that when I'm not working." Cupid explained,smiling. A chill ran down your spine,it was empty and her bow was nowhere in sight.

"Where is it now?" Cupid shrugged her shoulders, giggling cutely as she did so. She twirled around, before giving a twirl of her feet for some reason. Whatever had caused this, it certainly left her happy.

"Oh, I don't know. It's probably somewhere in-" Cupid paused and her voice trailed off when she noticed that the case was empty. A look of panic spread across her face as she turned to face you. "You don't think someone took my bow, do you?"

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of,we need to find it. But first there's something I need you to do for me" Cupid nodded her head frantically, clearly panicked as she worried about where her bow could possibly be. She looked at you with worry in her eyes, waiting for you to ask for what you wanted. She'd clearly do anything for you at that very moment.

"Okay... What do you want me to do..?" Cupid spoke softly, looking at you to await your instructions.

"Sit down and try to stay calm" She nodded her head, before she sat down on the ground, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, trying to calm herself to an extent. Although she was panicking a lot, she had to do something to stay calm,after all, you had asked her to.

"Okay, okay I'll try.I'll try to stay calm. Anything for you” Cupid spoke softly, looking up at you as she did so. You looked through the bookshelf,hoping you'd find the same book and you did. The last page was completely intact and read 'the final way to break the spell is to destroy the bow' you read further. It read, ‘If the spell is not nullified by their target being in love with them in the first place, or if their target denies the cupid's affection and refuses them, then the only option is to destroy the cupid's weapon, their bow. The bow itself is what gives cupids their power. Take that away from them, and they are no longer affected.’ This was the last resort to break the spell.

"We need to find your bow before whoever has it now causes trouble. Cupid nodded her head in agreement, panic in her eyes when she heard that someone else had her bow. She stood up, giving a nod to you in return.

"Yes,you're right, we have to go find it. Who knows what trouble they'll cause if they have that in their possession" Cupid spoke softly, clearly worried. As you ran through the school until you were stopped by Frankie

"Hey Y/N,I've been looking for you everywhere. I found a way to break the spell" she said,but there was something bigger now

“That's good but Cupid's bow is missing and we need to find it" Frankie reassured,revealing that she had taken the bow for safekeeping. The panic that was on Cupid's face lessened the moment Frankie said she had the bow. She let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders slouching slightly as she did so. She was clearly very glad that the bow was safe and no longer in the wrong hands.

"Well, thank the love Gods you have it,I was worried sick, thinking about if someone else got their hands on that thing,but at least we know it's safe now"

"Now we just need to smash it,so the spell will be broken" you said,reaching for the bow but Frankie pulled away.

"We still need to free Draculaura from Valentine and then we can break it," Frankie explained. Cupid's eyes widened a little as she heard that it needed to be destroyed, before she nodded her head slightly in understandment.

"But,how are you going to break them apart? I saw them together the other day.They're pretty attached at the hip."

"We use your arrows and make her fall for Clawd,come on let's go" Cupid's eyes widened slightly when she heard the plan, before she blushed and nodded her head in agreement. She knew how to work her arrows, how to make any monster fall in love using these babies. She reached into her quiver, pulling out an arrow and loading it into her bow.

"Okay, let's go then." After you saved Draculaura from Valentine,that left one thing. Freeing Cupid from her own spell,by smashing the bow. She seemed to snap out of it completely,but looked confused. The moment you smashed the bow, Cupid gasped and her eyes widened in surprise. She looked at the fragments of the bow before her, before she looked back at you in surprise.

"Wha... What has happened..?" Cupid's cheeks were still a light pink, but this was more out of confusion than affection. She really was confused about what the hell had happened in the last twenty four hours or so.

"It's a long story,maybe I could tell you over coffee?" Cupid blushed when you offered to explain this over coffee with her, biting her cheek slightly as she nodded her head in agreement. She was back to her usual, composed self, yet there were still lingering tinges of the cupid magic about her.

"Yea,that sounds nice.I'd like that."

[certifiablyinsanez]

Buckle in guys this is gonna be a doozy. Keep in mind that some people have sworn this isn’t their experience with the fandom and frankly I would like to know what spaces you are in because this is mine:

As someone who loves HH and HB, I’m going to say it; the Hazbin and Helluva fandoms are probably the worst I’ve ever encountered. Here are my top 5 gripes. Mentions of SA within the show ahead.

1. The problem fans have with the actors, studios and of course, most of all Viziepop. I’m not going into that drama, the point I’m trying to make is that white cishet men have been getting away with absolute murder for ages in this industry and have not received even a crumb of this much flack. The fact that an independent, queer, woman of color is being put through the SHREDDER online and her work is devalued despite having extensive queer, BIPOC creators, cast and characters frankly leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t think she’s perfect and free from criticism but I’ve seen people foam at the mouth in defense of people like Taylor Swift (despite her being a billionaire because yes being a billionaire is never ethical and an eco terrorist). I don’t think I have to spell out the double standards further.

2. The HORRIFIC sexualization of characters. This is so bad I have to split it in categories.

•In Helluva Boss it’s Loona. Seriously, the way people are absolute CREEPS about Loona is one of the worst cases of perversion I’ve seen of a character within a fandom. And I watch anime. I’m very familiar with the incel-y, body-pillow having, foaming-at-the-mouth weird perverts that come with animation. The fact that it’s possible Loona started out the show underage makes it worse but here’s the kicker…if Loona was not and is not underage, the obsession with her is still gross to me. About 90% of content with her is basically rule 34. They joke about it in the show with the fourth wall break, but honestly guys? Get a hold of yourselves. Especially under certain context that she might be an SA victim is worse. (See the syphilis comment in the pilot. That disease manifests symptoms over years this isn’t necessarily canon but if it ever does become canon in the future it will make the sexualization downright unforgivable).

• ALASTOR. Alastor would be a clean #2 below Loona on the sexualization scale. As an asexual aromantic person, I’m frankly insulted (but not surprised) by the fandom’s approach to Alastor. Alastor is a canonically asexual character. People will (and have) argue with me that he’s canonically ace but it’s technically not confirmed that he’s aromantic and therefore use that as a justification to use him as bait for shipping wars and fic material. Viziepop said that she doesn’t mind certain things and has the one condition that we be “respectful”. I honestly think the fandom has entirely and spectacularly failed at that. People see Alastor in 2D. He’s witty, funny, sassy, self-assured, dare I say fabulous. Therefore, people seem to forget he’s ace. I’ve literally seen people say “I’m supposed to believe this guy is ace?” YES! Because he is! This hurts me as bad as it does because I have been out as aro ace for 10 years now and I’ve been exposed to so much vitriol at our community. If you haven’t been exposed to that, I’ll just say that the general picture people have of our community is that we are robotic, loveless, and empty from something people consider as fundamentally “human”. Still to this day people debate whether we’re even real. Alastor doesn’t fit that picture with his candor and charisma, and therefore people drop his ace identity at the drop of a hat. I can see it happening here because I’ve seen it happen with real people countless times. Even if that’s not how you see it, look at it from this perspective:

It’s confirmed that Alastor had no relationships in life or in death. Some people swear that he’s canonically sex-repulsed which I agree with but can’t confirm so I don’t claim it to be true canon just yet. But look at it like this. What have we seen from Alastor so far? Angel’s advances disgust him. He rebukes all advances. It’s canon that Alastor very likely cannot see others in a romantic way (and here is why I’m sure why): because he thinks pretty much everyone is beneath him. Yes it seems he is friendly with fellow cannibal overlord Rosie and lets Nifty touch him whereas others cannot, but what does it tell you when the “closest” people to him don’t catch his eye in the slightest? Because pairings in these shows are EXTREMELY intentional. I should also say the reason I’m adverse to shipping Alastor with anyone is the same reason I don’t ship Sir Pentious with anyone. It’s absolutely not important to their character. I understand having a fascination with him, believe me I love him too, but it really seems as though these shows have been reduced to shipping fodder. Also, Angel is canonically gay and no one ships him with women because that is something folks can understand and have respect for. I personally don’t see the difference between the two (in terms of sexuality).

3. The hyper-criticalness of it all. I honestly feel bad for the cast and crew because I swear y’all are never satisfied. I see endless complaining that Hazbin sucks because the “developments are bad” or some shit. What??? Including the pilot there have been 5 EPISODES. For fucks sake WAIT. Many great stories didn’t start off awesome. Why did we all forget that stories take time to come off the ground? I feel like everyone’s been poisoned by the writing advice that if you don’t “immediately hook the viewer on the first page/episode then it’s bad” or something. With Helluva Boss that has more episodes, its usually the fact that people hate the female characters. “Loona is a bitch to everyone”, “Octavia exists solely for Stolas’ development”, “Millie doesn’t exist outside Moxxie”. I’ve even seen people SYMPATHIZING with STELLA. Okay, first of all:

• Loona is canonically the lowest class in hell and very well could’ve been born and raised in a pound for 17 YEARS. Imagine if you grew up in prison and your only chance out was for someone to come along and buy you. If the comment from the pilot holds any weight (it may not but it might), then she was SA’d too. That’s complex trauma folks and ITS NOT PRETTY.

• Octavia literally had her own episode that showcased development for both her and Loona as well as the rest of the cast. But at the end of the day, her being sidelined for Stolas isn’t a shock because who is going to carry more weight in this story? Her, or her father who is the love interest of the MC? Stolas has a bigger role, that doesn’t mean Octavia is good for nothing else. I think it’s an interesting showcase to have her as a teenager going through the trauma of a divorce initiated by an affair. It’s a very real thing that happens but I never hear talked about. I just think that it’s a pointless battle trying to have her and her fathers importance be equal. From a storytelling perspective they just aren’t and it’s okay.

• Millie is a WONDERFUL character! For anyone who has seen Demonslayer, I say that Millie got the “Mitsuri Kanroji treatment”. She’s one of few female characters that isn’t necessarily defined by a traumatic past. So far it seems like her story is a country girl born and raised on a farm with lots of siblings and somewhat iffy parents. Not exactly as dramatic and horrifying as Moxxie’s mob past, or Blitz’s life ruined by fire. I know the biggest critique is that she’s nothing outside Moxxie. Like, I’m sorry, what? Since when is it a crime to be madly in love with someone you married? I would say Moxxie is more dependent on Millie than the other way around and yet the burden of that is placed on Millie and I KNOW it’s because she’s the woman. I ADORE Millie because she’s just…normal. She’s funny, bright, sweet and bad af. If I’m being perfectly honest, I’m not entirely sure as to why she is hated so much. I genuinely don’t see what’s not to love about her.

• STELLA??? Guys it’s gone too far. Do you sympathize with her because Stolas cheated and the marriage was just as arranged for her as it was for him? Because after everything she’s done I don’t care in the SLIGHTEST. Because Stella had ALWAYS been cruel. Did you not see her kid picture??? She TORTURED LITTLE ANIMALS. If someone does that in real life, we don’t defend those people for a second. It’s clear that she’s hit him before. That shot where Stolas catches her hand implies that there were many times that Stella did that and he did not intercept. Stella always talks bad about Stolas no matter what. Whether it’s to her friends at parties or to Stolas’ actual face. I know she brings him down around her daughter too. She humiliates him any chance she gets while Stolas has been shown to usually refrain from doing so (does Via even know it was her mom who tried to kill her dad?). So far we have not seen her have any real love for Octavia (Stolas put her to bed always and she never got up for her). But also, the tiny detail of SENDING AN ASSASSIN AFTER HIM. And she had not a cent of concern for how that would affect Via. I genuinely see nothing in her that’s worthy of defending. Sometimes women are abusive guys I don’t know how to tell you this.

4. The hate on Hazbin ladies. People hate Charlie, Vaggie, and Nifty. They always say it’s because Vizi cant write women, I just think it’s the fact that their media literacy is in the toilet. If Charlie was anything other than the eternal, naive optimist the story of Hazbin wouldn’t even exist. It would be impossible. No one else would’ve ever started such a project as a soul rehab in hell. I’m excited to see more developments with Vaggie (cuz I know that five episodes isn’t enough to have the perfect picture of a character) but so far I’m fine with her. I like how easy and low key their relationship is. Which is funny because everyone else hates it for the same reason. Nifty is comedic relief and everyone LOOOOOVES those characters…when they’re men, which Nifty isn’t so they hate her.

5. Finally, the fact that I can’t tell who are the haters and who actually likes the show. Because the tie in with the hyper critical responses but also the fact that people cannot simply not interact with this media. Some people genuinely watch it to shit on it. I don’t understand why. Please leave us in peace to have fun and enjoy. I’ve never seen so many haters in a fandom space before.

If yall have a response like “bro where the fuck have you been interacting with the fandom” PLS tell me where y’all have been avoiding this because this shit has haunted me EVERYWHERE.

[tiredwitchplant]

Everything You Need to Know About Fruits and Veggies: Apples

Apple (Malus domestica)

*Poisonous *Medical *Culinary *Feminine

Folks Names: Fruits of the Gods, Fruit of the Underworld, Silver Branch, The Silver Bough, Tree of Love

Planet: Venus

Element: Water

Deities: Venus, Dionysus, Olwen, Apollo, Hera, Athena, Aphrodite, Diana, Zeus, Iduna

Abilities: Love, Healing, Garden Magic, Immortality, Spiritual Development, Opening the Door Between Realms, Manifestation, Abundance, Hexing

Why Poisonous?:The seeds within apples contain chemical compounds that cause cyanide poisoning. Mild symptoms include: anxiety, headaches, dizziness, and confusion, while acute poisoning can cause high blood pressure, paralysis, coma or death. Do not consume a large amount of apple seeds at once.

Characteristics: The tree is small and deciduous, reaching 3 to 12 m tall, with a broad twiggy crown. The blossoms are produced during the spring while the fruit itself is matured in the autumn. The flowers are white with pink tinge that fades over time.

History: Originated in Central Asia with its ancestor plant, Malus sieversii which is a wild apple native to southern Kazakhstan. In the bible, it was used a symbol of temptation as it was the fruit that tempted Adam and Eve to be thrown out of the Garden of Eden. It is also known as a symbol of immortality, health, vitality, love and fertility by many religions. In Wicca, you cut an apple through its core to reveal the five-pointed pentagram that represents the four natural elements plus Spirit. It has been written that witches would use apples to hex and poison their victims, while the tree itself is sacred to Druids. The druids believed it was one of only two tress that would support their beloved mistletoes. On the Twelfth Night tradition, Pagans would sing to the tree, hoisting cheerful mug of wassail to drive wassail demons and coax out an abundant harvest for the Earth. It is also said that unicorns love to dwell in apple orchards and love the taste of the fruit. Before eating an apple, one must rub it to remove demon or evil spirits that maybe hiding inside.

How to Grow An Apple Tree:

Easy to Grow? No

Rating: Moderate/Expert

Seeds Accessible: Yes

How to Grow an Apple Tree

Video Guide

Where to Buy Seeds

Magical Properties:

On August 13th, Diana’s Festival in Greece (Venus’ in Rome) was celebrated where a ritual meal was prepared with apples still hanging on their boughs.

Wiccan altars are piled high on Samhain for apple is considered the food of the dead

Their blossoms can be used for love spells, sachets, brew and incenses

Can be used for love divinations by cutting the apple into two and counting the number of seeds

Banish illness by rubbing the apple on you and burying it

Eating an apple can help you gain immortality through wisdom

The wood of the tree can be made into charms for longevity

Apple wood makes for excellent magical wands, especially for emotional magic

Rubbing an apple peel on your forehead can waken your third eye, allowing your intuition to develop

Eating an apple or drinking apple tea can fill you with trust and abundance

Medical Usage:

Apple blossoms and the fruit are full of fiber, vitamins A and C, and quercetin, an antioxidant believed to help prevent cancer

Placing crushed apple leaves on a wound can prevent infection

Can lower the chance of chronic conditions such as diabetes, heart disease and promote weight loss and brain health

May help reduce airway inflammation related to allergic asthma

Sources

[thiccpersonality]

Forget Me Not

(Before you start reading: I must warn this is an extremely long fic, the word count coming in at 27,591 words. If you'd prefer to read it somewhere not on Tumblr, I posted it here on my AO3: My Story. However, if you enjoy reading fics as long as Pinocchio's lying nose, please enjoy! 💛)

Relationships:

Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne

Batfamily Members & Alfred Pennyworth

Clark Kent & Alfred Pennyworth

Diana (Wonder Woman) & Alfred Pennyworth

Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne

Diana (Wonder Woman) & Bruce Wayne

Diana (Wonder Woman) & Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne

Batfamily Members & Bruce Wayne

Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne

Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne

Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne

Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne

Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne

Characters:

Alfred Pennyworth

Bruce Wayne

Clark Kent

Diana (Wonder Woman)

Dick Grayson

Jason Todd

Tim Drake (DCU)

Damian Wayne

Kate Kane (DCU)

Barbara Gordon

Stephanie Brown

Cassandra Cain

Ace the Bat-Hound (DCU)

Leslie Thompkins

Additional Tags:

Angst

Fluff and Angst

Fluff

Fluff and Humor

Family Fluff

Hurt/Comfort

Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Hurt

Emotional Hurt

Fluff and Hurt/Comfort

Character Death

Death

Sickfic

Sick Character

Dementia

Old Age

Alfred Pennyworth is the Best

Good Parent Alfred Pennyworth

Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth

Good Parent Bruce Wayne

Bruce Wayne Loves Children

Bruce Wayne is Good With Kids

Jason Todd is a Batfamily Member

Alfred Pennyworth Needs a Hug

Bruce Needs a Hug

Everyone Needs A Hug

Hugs

Bruce Wayne Gets a Hug

Everyone Gets A Hug

It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better

Bittersweet Ending

Disease: a disorder of structure or function in a human, animal, or plant, especially one that has a known cause and a distinctive group of symptoms, signs, or anatomical changes.

Everyone should know why a disease would be a frightening ordeal to go through, it's something that usually spells death for the person or people who have it, it's like having a sickness but worse...almost as if the term itself is pre-warning those who are hearing of it that there is a high chance they will die. A disease is intimidating in many ways, there are some there is absolutely no cure for, some where you just have to hope and pray that the outcome won't be as bad as any other persons case that disease has gotten it's cold, suffocating tendrils on.

There is an uncertainty and fear that strikes through the heart of the victim or victims and their families when such news is relayed that a disease has taken root to the person, it plants an uncertainty in the soil of your heart like a little seed, quickly taking root and spreading anxiety and doubtfulness in the future to come for yourself or your loved one like a stubborn weed.

There are many kinds of diseases, but one that Bruce finds the most horrifying is the disease of one's mind, it can show up in multiple ways...he has seen it before: The psychopathy and delusions of the rogue gallery for one, the weariness and depression from the pain of one's life for another, something that can spread so quickly from one bad day that it changed their minds forever is something both fascinating and haunting. But the one disease of mind that scares Bruce the most are the ones that can remain unseen, most likely because the disease is being stubborn or perhaps it was too late?

All Bruce knows is that for him, his disease is death...or maybe it's the opposite way around?

Death always seemed to cling to Bruce as if he's it's only lifeline, which is absurd considering what death does, but sometimes that thought causes the man himself to wonder if death is just as tired of it's job as anyone else is? If it is just hoping to find someone who can cheat itself and prove that it's not a monster...at least not because it wants to be, but it has a job to do like anyone else, and sometimes there are people that have to do the dirty work, that have to take on a role that they know might make them hated beyond all reason.

Bruce should know that all too well, maybe that's why death clings to him like an insecure child seeking affirmation from an adult or loved one? Maybe it just sees him as a friend of sorts; it's confidant, someone who knows the ins and outs of how death operates and isn't scared by it or shies away from it, it knows he has come to terms with it and understands it...or has tried to.

That is one thing Bruce despises about himself; how he lies and tells himself that he's not afraid when deep down he's that eight-year-old boy in a bloody alleyway, the red clinging to his legs and hands like a second skin, the rain mixing with his tears as he sits alone and confused; his mind trying to process what just happened as his eyes frantically flutter between his mom and dad's now cold bodies.

So, yes, Bruce is well acquainted with death and disease, from too young an age one might add. He has seen sickness take ahold of his father's patients when younger and as stated before: he witnessed his parents death, and he has witnessed his own son Jason die alone and most likely scared. Bruce has seen death stretch out it's hand like an uncontrollable and incurable disease, hoping to claim another victim or reaching out as a cry for help...that he does not know, all he knows is that he is tired of death following him around like his own shadow, he is tired of it claiming the lives of everyone he loves without fail.

There have been moments where Bruce begged loudly for death to come for him instead, and it seems like whenever he has, it didn't work or moved on to someone else he knows as if it doesn't want to let him go, as if it's saying: "not you...not yet", trying it's hardest to keep the one person who is painfully familiar with it and who it recognizes just as much in return, though death may not quite realize just how much suffering it is putting it's "friend" through.

You see.

Bruce, just like death, has familiarized himself with the grandeur of delusion and the temporary peace or comfort it can bring. Thinking that if you can lie to yourself enough that everything and everyone is just fine, that you are fine and that you aren't slowly being driven insane by the back and forth death, as if you aren't slowly being eaten away by grief and sorrow...as if the people that you love and care for will continue to live another day because you think so, you've convinced yourself well enough because there was no other choice, it was either being delusional or you let the crushing weight of every death you've ever witnessed process in your mind and rip you apart like a dog with it's favorite chew toy.

Bruce had gotten so good at lying to himself that he believed one specific person would never die, at least not before he passed before that person: Alfred.

The tricky thing about grief and delusion is that they go hand in hand very well, sometimes peoples cause of grief is their delusions and for others their delusions are a cause of grief; two things Bruce has come to know very well.

Another thing is that they both can cause you to lie to yourself, sometimes very well, and when you have a grown man with repressed trauma, well, that is a dangerous cocktail for one to drink. Bruce deep down is that child in that alleyway...he never quite truly moved on from Thomas and Martha Wayne's deaths, that frightened little boy is still in him looking for someone to cling to, someone to lean on as a parental and mature adult figure...and who better than Alfred? The man has always been a shining star in Bruce's darkened world, something and someone to look forward to in his lowest moments, the man has always been so patient and put together whenever Bruce was at his worst that the boy was convinced Alfred had powers.

Ever since he could walk, Alfred was the person Bruce would follow to the earth and back again, and when the man stepped up after his parents died, that broken part of him clung to what was familiar and what he knew was something solid to lean on when the ground beneath him became sinking sand.

Because of that, Bruce never once thought of Alfred succumbing to any sort of disease, let alone death. He and death seemed to have a silent agreement on the other man: not Alfred, never Alfred...but it seems that it was only one of death's many tricks for Bruce. To make himself and his inner child hopeful that, if nothing else, at least he will always have Alfred by his side with his sharp mind and quick wit, always there to nag Bruce about his bad ways of living his life. He never thought the other would be one to fall to such sneaky tricks because, if nothing else, Alfred never has succumbed to such diseases of the mind or heart before.

But...

Bruce didn't realize how wrong he was until it was too late. Unaware that sometimes grief and heartbreak can sometimes take years to show in someone's heart or mind, clueless to the ways it festers like an unattended cut, causing worse of an injury than what you initially started out with. He didn't know that just like an unattended cut, that feelings can act just the same, building up overtime until it claims someone's life or leaves them with scars.

Or maybe he's just playing ignorant?

Bruce knows deep down that such things are true, but he is so used to lying to himself and pushing aside the truth of his feelings that sometimes he forgets to apply it to other people. He is sick and tired of dealing with death, especially when it comes to his family and friends, that he finds it easier to sacrifice his own life and well-being so that death never happens again in his family, not anymore.

But, death is one of the many things Bruce knows he doesn't have control over, especially not when he can't see it forming or coming. Not when it disguises itself so well that by the time you notice death take hold of someone, it's too late to do anything. Bruce thought that death and him had an understanding when it came to Alfred...but now he is left wondering if death found his situation hilarious or if it was left grieving just as he was.

And it all started slow and unassuming, like a thief in the night.

XXX

It was a surprisingly beautiful day in Gotham, the sun out to give a comforting amount of warmth while a cool breeze blows throughout the Wayne estate, the birds chirping happily in the trees as the bat-family sits outside to have a picnic together, Bruce smiling softly at all his family gathered together while soaking up the noise.

It's nice to be able to relax with his children and see them be young and free, even if it's just for a moment in time. Bruce appreciates his family for coming over as it's the anniversary of his parents death today...an occasion the man would usually choose to grieve alone with, the weather too bright and pleasant on such a sad morning, but Bruce finds himself not minding it today because it brought him his children. "Damian, how many times have I told you not to throw the water balloons below the belt?"

Bruce raises his brow at his youngest child over his shades while sipping at his lemonade, holding back his amused smirk at the boy turning to frown at him.

"I don't know? Probably one hundred and one times since we've come out to play. But I do not see the issue with it, father, in this war, anything is possible." Damian smirks at his dad in a way that has Bruce slightly concerned for his other children, but the moment is ruined by the boy sputtering as a balloon pop's against his head. "What miserable lowlife dared to hit me-" Damian shouts as he's pelted three times in the back with water balloons-"Cut it out you cretin! I swear on my grandfather's name that when I find who did that-" Bruce does his best to hold back his laughter when Tim and Steph interrupt the boy with more balloons to his face.

Conversation long forgotten at this point, Bruce just relaxes into his chair with a genuine smile as he watches Damian chase after the two teens, his heart growing warm when the boy chooses to tug Jason onto his team with the claim that despite the others mental and emotional setbacks, he proves to be well trained and physically capable.

Surprisingly, the older boy only pinches at Damian's face in retaliation before picking the boy up and running after their newfound "enemies" with the other on his shoulder. Bruce feels that fondness in his heart mix with the cold and familiar touch of grief and sadness at imagining his parents being here to witness this, from imagining if this would be the kinds of things he did with his own parents on sunny days. Bruce loosens his tense body and slowly allows himself to feel some of that pain, he must be having a rare good day, because any other time of day he would choose to focus on one or the other, but never both.

At the thought of his parents though, Bruce turns his head to look around for Alfred and frowns when he sees that the man hasn't come back outside yet, is the other just busy with housework or is he grieving too?

Bruce paused at the thought and looks back and forth between his laughing family and the sliding back door thoughtfully, he doesn't want to intrude on Alfred if the man is grieving in his own way, he actually isn't sure if he's ever seen the man cry properly at Thomas and Martha dying...but then again, he also isn't sure the nature of their relationship with each other and if they were even close. It does bother Bruce a bit to think that maybe Alfred and his parents weren't friends and that maybe they just stayed professional with each other, just because the man was willing to befriend the Wayne's child, it doesn't exactly mean he was willing to be friends with his employers.

Bruce makes his decision and stands up from his seat, shouting to his kids about how he'll be right back and chuckling as he's completely ignored by all of them.

Bruce slides open the door and inhales deeply at the scent coming from the kitchen, his feet automatically taking him to the source of the smell, a small smile tugging at his lips when he sees his dad in a Robin themed apron: "Alfred! Why are you still baking in here? You said that you'd be joining us outside soon and this doesn't look like soon."

Alfred raises his brow at the mock scolding tone Bruce is taking with him, "Don't you dare try that with me, sir. I am providing everyone with dessert for later, sustenance if you may, at least I am not hunched over this counter and forgetting to feed myself." Bruce responds with a small gasp at the slightly judgmental look he receives from the other man, taking a seat at the counter and stealing a taste of the cream cheese frosting Alfred is whipping up, giving an innocent grin when the other attempts hitting his hand for it. "And no one would believe me if I told them that you act like a child."

Alfred softens when looking back up at Bruce and seeing the man looking comfortable and happy, considering the day it is, he expected the man to be worse for wear like any other time, but this version of his son is always welcomed and if he willfully ignores the man sneaking in another scoop of cream...well, that's only his and Bruce's business.

"Not believe you, Alfred? I think your talking poppycock now. Whoever wouldn't believe you is mad I say."

Bruce watches Alfred move around the kitchen in search of something, his smile widening at the not so subtle twitch of Alfred's lips from his words, though the Wayne heir grows confused when his longtime friend stops in the middle of the floor confused. "Alfred? Is everything okay?" Bruce watches closely as the man turns to give him a reassuring smirk, the older man lifting a hand to tap at his head. "Oh, you know how it is with age, my dear boy. My old noggin' doesn't work quite like it used to, seems I am forgetful today." Alfred's obviously playful comment causes a pang of fear to shoot through Bruce's heart, the simple mention of anything being wrong with his dad on a day where he's remembering his late parents isn't helping to quell his sudden worry.

"Don't say that! You are fine, Alfred. You are fine."

Alfred looks at Bruce confused for just a moment before his shoulders slump at realizing the issue, his gunmetal blue eyes carefully observing the worry in those icy eyes and the young man's suddenly tense posture.

Alfred sighs softly and reaches forward to grab Bruce's hand in his own, "I apologize for my comment. I didn't mean to come off as insensitive or intentionally trying to worry you Bruce...I promise I am fine. Just a bit...foggy today upstairs is all-" his thumb comfortingly strokes across Bruce's hand, an action that is so familiar to the younger that it automatically causes him to relax-"I suppose that you aren't the only one who struggles on this day." Bruce pauses for a moment in thought before he takes the time to look at Alfred properly and feels a pang of sadness hit him at the grief in the man's eyes...it's something he almost never sees from the man, at least not this openly.

Bruce sucks in a sharp breath of air at truly being able to see just how tired and grief stricken the older man looks, his other hand lifting to rest on top of Alfred's, his thumb mimicking the comforting gesture for the other just as the man did for him. "I'm sorry, Alfie...I wondered about if you missed them as I do, but I never wanted to ask because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." Alfred blinks away the mist from his eyes and releases a deep breath he didn't even know he was holding, clearing his throat before speaking. "You being concerned for my well being could never bother me, sir. Now, what do you say you help me in the kitchen for today and we finish making this Bavarian Torte together?"

Bruce's eyes widen and water slightly at the name of the dessert, "You mean...the chocolate one? That was one of mom's favorite desserts." 

Alfred smiles bittersweetly at the old memories of the Wayne matriarch sneaking into the kitchen to steal the whipped icing and extra slices of cake without any remorse, remembering how she would sometimes use underhanded tricks such as sending a toddling, pudgy faced Bruce in to ask for the cake, all while cackling behind the corner like a maniac-because much like herself-it was impossible to deny the young boy anything.

"Exactly the chocolate one. I thought it might be nice to eat something familiar to remember them by...I know how much you miss them and if I'm overstepping a bound-" Alfred grunts as he's crushed into a tight hug, his arms reaching out to squeeze Bruce back as the man whispers in his ear.

"It's perfect Alfred, thank you. I'd love to help."

XXX

Bruce thought the moment of forgetfulness was unusual for Alfred, but even the best of the best have their off days once in awhile. Though he wishes he would have payed attention to the amount of grief on the butler's face when he confessed Thomas and Martha's deaths hit him hard as well, maybe if he did things wouldn't have spiraled as quickly as they did? I mean, that's if it was caused partly by untreated grief and sorrow.

Bruce wishes he would have held onto that concern long afterwards, but he trusted that child in himself telling him that Alfred is alright, telling him to trust the unwavering and impenetrable force that is Alfred Pennyworth.

That desperation to not want to even think or ponder on the thought that something could truly be wrong with Alfred seemed to overshadow the moments where something was off. It especially didn't help that each question and concerned remark was met by a steadfast reassurance that everything was fine and that Alfred was as right as rain, and maybe Bruce was being immature for so quickly being placated by the firm words and grounding tone? But Bruce was always prone to listening to Alfred when he got in such a mood, his usual iron-willed stubbornness would seem to fade into nothing whenever the man would stand tall and chase away his worries, just like when he was but a frightened child desperate for comfort yet too scared to reach out and claim such a thing for himself. Alfred remaining patient and calm despite Bruce's weariness and temperament.

Sometimes...sometimes Bruce thinks he was being selfish when it came to Alfred, he wonders about what kind of child he is to ignore his own concerns and the warning signs death gave to him in favor of being comforted by words he wanted to hear. Words of assurance and a promise that everything was fine, even when it always wasn't.

Bruce hates when his family tells him that there was nothing much he could have done, that things happened so quickly for even a doctor like Leslie to be able to aid Alfred. Bruce finds it easier to blame things on himself, he finds it easier to chalk things up to being his fault like most peoples deaths are.

Ultimately though, Bruce never thought that disease of someone's mind could spread so quickly under his and the family's noses.

XXX

Alfred is trying to cook breakfast for his family but he can't figure out where he placed the tongs, he can't grab the bacon from the pan if he doesn't have the proper utensils to do so. The older man sighs in frustration and rubs at his temples, he doesn't know why, but he has been misplacing things lately or becoming forgetful and it irks him to no end...he knows that his health is fine, but he would rather not be subject to bouts of forgetfulness at what feels like the most random of times.

While Alfred is searching through the same drawers he looked through fifty times already, one of his grandchildren sneak up behind him and startle him by asking what's wrong.

Alfred jumps and quickly turns around, a displeased frown gracing his face when Tim just giggles happily at getting a rare one up on the usually aware butler. "One of these days you children are going to give this old man a heart attack. But if you must know what's wrong, I seemed to have lost the tongs, and I would hate to let you all's bacon burn because I can't find them." Tim perks up at hearing his breakfast could be ruined and nods his head, gently moving Alfred to the side so he can take a look himself. "You sure Jason hasn't started taking our stuff again? I know he's been coming to the Manor a lot more...but he sometimes slips utensils out to use in his own apartment."

Alfred crosses his arms with a thoughtful hum, "I hope not. He knows good and well that he can ask Bruce for help and he'll buy the boy almost anything."

A drowsy voice comes from the kitchen entrance, "Where would the fun be if I asked? I hafta fulfill that little street rat in me somehow." Tim rolls his eyes at Jason's groggy response, the boy standing up straight and frowning at how the tongs have seemingly disappeared out of nowhere. "Yeah...well, did the street rat in you steal the tongs? Alfred needs them or else the bacon will burn...and we don't want the bacon to burn."

Jason smacks his lips and shrugs his shoulders, "Nope! I don't know where they are or where they ran off to, maybe our home is turning into the castle from Beauty and The Beast? Next the grandfather clock will start talking and Alfred's feather duster will have a French accent. Just use a fork for now, maybe the tongs will turn up soon." Tim shuts the drawer he was looking through and opens the one with their table utensils and pulls out a fork for Alfred to use, his gaze suspicious as he looks Jason's way. "Mhm...by 'turn up soon' do you mean you have to go get them from your apartment and rush them back here so you won't get in trouble?"

Before Jason can respond, Damian walks in with the tongs in his small hands, unconsciously clicking them together as he enters the kitchen.

"I found these in father's bathroom today. Why were they in there in the first place?" Damian continues to click the two claws together as he looks around at everyone for an answer.

Alfred feels confusion at what Damian said...he knows the boy would have no reason to lie, but there would also be no reason for him to place the tongs in Bruce's room. It must have been Bruce's dog, Ace, that did it, that must be it. Despite the dog being well trained, it still acts like a dog and that means chewing at stuff from time to time or even running off with household stuff.

"Maybe it was Ace yesterday? I saw him in the kitchen with me before heading upstairs to bed, and I do believe I stopped by Bruce's bathroom to clean it up one more time and Ace followed me then as well." Alfred extends his hand to retrieve the tongs and nods at Damian in thanks, smiling when the boy calls Ace to him and fake scolds the dog for taking his utensils. The dog just tilts it's head in confusion, it did no such thing last night, it witnessed Alfred carrying the tongs with him and leaving them in it's master's bathroom after leaving...but it knows that the humans won't understand it, so it takes the scolding bravely and gently nudges it's nose into Damian's neck.

Jason is now sitting at the countertop, his cheek resting against his hand as he yawns. "Why were you in dad's bathroom? I'm pretty sure you have your own."

Damian giggles at the cold dog nose tickling his neck before he realizes he's being addressed and clears his throat. "Why not be in father's bathroom? It is the largest one and the best one after all, and as the one true Wayne heir, I deserve the best." Jason rolls his eyes and watches as Damian climbs into the seat next to him, a humored look in his eyes when realizing that if his baby brother didn't have fancy hop-y ninja skills, he would be struggling into the tall chair because of his height.

"Okay shortcake, sure. You positive you didn't use B's bathroom because you were already in his room? I don't know...maybe because you slept in his bed last night like the child you are."

Jason was only joking, but the pink coloring Damian's face causes the older to snort in amusement at how easy it is to tease the other. Though Jason is now having to defend himself from Damian's fists trying to strike him in his side, "Don't be mad at me because I unknowingly guessed correctly. I'm definitely not judging you for sleeping in his bed, he has a really nice bed, and I'm pretty sure if I still had the time to...I would have slept in Bruce's bed as much as I could before dying."

Damian pauses his attempted murder and frowns up at the older boy, pulling away his fist in favor of crossing his arms and leaning on the counter. "That's...tragic. Does father know of this predicament of yours? You sound as though you think about it a lot and I'm sure father has as well."

"I know of his predicament now and I am never bothered if any of my children want to climb into my bed." Bruce walks into the kitchen with bed head, somehow making it look like a fashion statement rather than a hot mess, carefully ruffling Jason's head as he passes by him and hiding his pleased smile at being able to embarrass his second eldest with his hand. "Now that we've come to a conclusion on Jason's dilemma. I see we are having bacon and eggs for breakfast. Will mine have cheese like usual, Alfred?"

The older man sets the last of the bacon on the tray, his eyebrows furrowing at how forgetful he is being lately, he didn't even prepare the ingredients for the eggs. 

"Could someone pull out the eggs, cheese and vegetables for me? I'm afraid I was so focused on finding the tongs that I neglected to pull out the eggs and other ingredients. Will anyone be having an omelette?" Richard appears out of what seems like nowhere, excitedly shouting about how he'll get the items and help Alfred beat the eggs, the kind offer immediately being met with complaints from the rest of his siblings. "That's no fair! Pretty sure you got to help Alfred yesterday with breakfast too. I'm gonna crack the eggs and mix them!" Tim loudly exclaims while standing up and reaching for the fridge handle, Richard's hand bumping into his as they start a mini shoving match with each other.

Alfred sighs at the morning already starting off so loudly, "If it is of concern to anyone...I also need a mixing bowl. It seems I've forgotten where I placed them last."

Bruce watches on amused as his second eldest and baby son hop out of their seats and rush to search for the mixing bowls, laughter escaping him when Jason asks Damian why he's trying to search the cabinets when he's so tiny. Bruce looks to Alfred and laughs harder seeing the man's facial expression, leaning forward to speak to the older so that he's heard over the chaos. "Now you've caused more of a ruckus then before. It was a good try though."

Alfred raises a brow, "Nice try?"

"Yes. Acting like you didn't know where the bowls are in the hopes that it would distract Tim instead, but now you have another argument on your hands." Bruce leans into his palm with a smirk, his confusion growing as Alfred smirks a bit awkwardly, as though he was being serious about not knowing where the bowls are but is attempting at acting like he knows what's going on. "Of course, sir. This old man has his own tactics to deploy...though I suppose I should rethink my plans, they seem to not work with the children."

Bruce blinks away the confusion in his eyes, he feels like he should ask Alfred what's wrong, his mind going back to his parents anniversary night and how forgetful the other seemed then too...but he had said that everything was fine with him. Maybe it's just him overthinking things again? Bruce has plenty of those moments where his mind has gotten him in trouble with family and friends alike because his paranoia got in the way of his trust. So, if Alfred claims he is fine...then he is, who would know his health better than the man himself? Definitely not Bruce, he doesn't think he would exactly count as the healthiest role model or example on health, not really.

Plus, Alfred is probably just trying to trick Bruce with the confusion too. His butler is a surprisingly good actor, sometimes even better than Bruce himself, so it's probably just all an act.

Bruce snaps out of his thoughts when he sees Damian clinging onto a large metal bowl that Jason is holding onto, the younger dangling in the air as his brother attempts to shake him off of the bowl. "Move it, pipsqueak! I grabbed this bowl first and you know it! Your fancy ninja skills don't beat height, I grabbed this before you jumped up and attacked me for it." Damian glares at Jason and tilts his head back so that he's looking at his dad, "Father! Tell Todd to release the bowl into my hands! I had it first and he won't let it go!"

Bruce opens his mouth to respond but is cut off by Richard making a distressed sound, he turns his head quickly in worry as to what could be the issue only to see his eldest only lost a round of rock, paper, scissors to Tim.

"No! Best two out of three?" 

Tim clutches onto the cheese and vegetables while narrowing his eyes at Richard, "You mean best two out of ten? We've played nine times already and you've lost most of them." Richard eyes the ingredients dubiously, slowly inching towards the smaller boy with his arms out, as though he's trying to disarm a startled puppy rather than his littlest brother. "Look, you cheated me, m'kay? I think Cass has been teaching you her tricks...she is unnaturally good at rock, paper, scissors." 

Tim rolls his eyes and keeps his hold tight on the stuff in his arms, "It's not Cass' fault you make bets with her and end up losing your money. Why would you even make bets with the one person trained since birth to read body language? You're just an idiot."

Richard gasps at the words and playfully lunges for the fridge, loudly exclaiming to Tim that if he's getting the cheese and vegetables then he'll retrieve the egg carton.

Bruce's cheeks hurt from smiling so much, his humored gaze turning to glance at Alfred to see how he's dealing with the banter and turning to something concerned at seeing how lost the man looks while standing there, but he doesn't have time to think about it as Damian screeches for him again.

"Father! Tell Todd to release the bowl from his evil clutches! I demand it!"

"Is it so hard for you to not speak in ancient? Why don't you speak like a normal kid-ow! The Hell!? Dad, get Damian off of me, he's starting to bite again! Don't make me punt you into the wall, gremlin!" Bruce sucks in a deep breath and rubs his temples, it started off amusing, but now it's quickly becoming a headache with all this shouting.

However, he has to be a dad, and because of this responsibility and honor (a tiring honor) he stands up to soothe his childrens tempers with the promise of Alfred's bacon, his concern for his own dad temporarily forgotten.

XXX

Bruce should have known that it's the little foxes that spoil the vine, but he was either too busy dealing with other people's issues or too busy being in denial that he didn't want to notice the signs of something being wrong. Anytime he did ask, it was always met with similar answers and responses, even on days where Alfred seemed to get visibly upset with him about the constant questioning, he would ignore that little voice telling him that Alfred's anger seemed wrong in favor of moving on and returning to "normal".

One of the most worrying moments for Bruce was when other people started to notice it too, especially Clark and Diana, it was a long couple months stuck in space working on a peace treaty between two different planets...Bruce hadn't even wanted to leave at the time, his concern for Alfred's growing confusion and seemingly depleting mental state was enough reason for him to not want to go.

But, with Superman and Wonder Woman tag teaming him and nudging him along with the prospect of the two planets possible war effecting earth, that was more reason to leave his dad behind in order to make sure his loved ones won't be hurt. Not before asking Damian to keep an eye on Alfred until he returns.

Bruce never expected to be gone for five months...of course he was glad that the peace treaty was successful, but he never wanted to be gone for so long from his family, especially when all his worries came crashing down on him the moment the League headed back to the Watchtower. His thoughts immediately rushing to how Alfred and the kids are, if his dad has gotten any worse or if the memory issues truly were just a cause of overwhelming grief from past memories undealt with properly.

He remembers Clark and Diana mentioning how hungry they were when they finally landed, but both were too tired (both more mentally and emotionally than physically) to even make something themselves. Of course with that response-and the two flashing puppy eyes his way-Bruce acquiesced with a sigh and invited them to his home, too exhausted himself to properly roll his eyes when the two managed wide smiles, as if they haven't been alone with him for a year.

XXX

Bruce blinks away the dizziness from the Zeta-Tube light, he should have taken the time to prepare himself for the sudden feeling of vamping one place to another, especially with the slight fuzzy feeling in your brain that the Zeta Tube gives Leaguers...at least humans like Bruce anyway.

A feeling of peace and contentment runs throughout the vigilante at finally being home, that queazy feeling of homesick he's been secretly dealing with for a year now finally dispersing at the squeak of the bats above his head and the soft whirring of his machines. Bruce's eyes unconsciously keep drifting to the entrance of the cave as he changes out of his suit, becoming curious as to why Alfred hasn't come down to the Cave yet. Usually when Bruce doesn't notify anyone that he's back from a mission, Alfred is always the first person waiting for him or the first to know he's back anyway, always ready with a change of clothes and quickly analyzing him for any injuries or hint that something is wrong. 

Bruce realizes that Alfred won't be coming down on his own, so he quickly changes out of his Batsuit and heads upstairs to grab some clothes for Diana and Clark, turning to raise a curious brow at them when they attempt to follow him like two stray dogs.

"And what do you two think you are doing?"

Bruce is thinking of every training technique on self-control that he can to stop himself from laughing at the kicked puppy look Kal gives him and the deer in headlights look Diana wears. The Kryptonian has his foot frozen midair on the first step, "But...I thought you invited us over for a late dinner? Don't tell me you were joking about that? I was looking forward to that sandwich." Diana elbows Clark in the side for his comment, her sapphire blue eyes narrowing disapprovingly on how the man is more worried about food.

"I think what he means to say is that we thought the invitation was a serious one. And that we hope we didn't cross some sort of boundary? Especially when remembering you haven't seen your family in months...you must desire to see them right away, and we hope our presence isn't intruding upon that desire." Bruce has to look away at the overly sincere way the Amazonian is looking at him, and from the slow realization of Diana's words sinking into Clark's brain and causing him to (somehow) look more pitiful than before. "Gosh, B! Di is right, I'm sorry. I didn't even think about that...I was selfish to spend more time with you and eat a good sandwich."

Bruce's shoulders shake lightly as he finally breaks, he slowly turns to face his friends with a rare genuine smile on his face, the two freezing in place from the-no doubt exhausted-but genuinely happy laughter their friend is making.

"You two...it isn't about misunderstood jokes or interrupting my family time. I meant it when I asked you both to join me for dinner, I was just leaving to go get you both some clothes...you should know Alfred's rule about the suits in the home by heart now. That's all." Bruce rubs at his cheeks after speaking, it always hurts when he smiles too much, he doesn't know how since his children make him smile all the time, so he should be used to it by now. Luckily though, the answer seems to have satisfied both Diana and Clark's curiosity and worry, the two nodding their heads and preparing to say something but are quickly interrupted by the Grandfather Clock sliding open to reveal a sleepy looking Damian and Tim standing at the entrance.

"Father, you're finally back..." The younger boy rubs at his eyes and blinks rapidly, stifling a yawn as he speaks.

Tim seems to take Damian's cue as he yawns instead, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he does so, his posture looking exhausted beyond all belief but relieved at seeing Bruce again. "Hey, dad. Hi auntie Di and uncle C, we were hoping it was you this time, B. We brought you some extra clothes as the cave alerted us there was three people."  Bruce smiles at Tim fondly as the boy walks down the steps, the amusement growing in him once again when Damian huffs, pouts and rolls his eyes at whatever it was the his older brother said.

"I for one am beyond grateful that it's father this time around. If Todd brought his ragtag band of paupers over one more time to purposely grate on my nerves, I was actually going to murder one of them." Damian remains stubborn on his statement despite the look his dad turns to give him for saying he would murder people, "What? And don't get me started on Grayson, father! He was inviting people over for sleepovers every single night! Why does one man need so many feminine counterparts to hang around? They all-" Tim interrupts with a teasing look on his face and in his eyes 

"They all pampered him and babied him despite his threats to cut them down to size. Don't act like you didn't enjoy the skin care treatments, it's nothing you wouldn't do with dad-" the teen leans over to whisper purposefully loud to Bruce-"which is exactly why he allowed it to happen despite the constant protests. He was reminded of you whenever they treated his skin."

Bruce somehow manages to smiles even wider yet softer at the statement, his exhausted eyes shining with an overwhelming amount of emotions at realizing how much he's missed this; how much he's missed his family. The man quickly walks the rest of the way up the steps to pick up his baby son, cutting off the threats he knew Damian was going to shout at Tim, "Well...I am here now. There will be no more missing me as I can do our skin care together again, sadly not tonight, I'm too... exhausted. I have to make us sandwiches and get to bed before Alfred notices I'm still up and scolds me."

Bruce looks away from Damian too soon, hiking the boy up on his hip and securing his hold on him so the boy's chin is resting on his shoulder, not noticing the way his youngest son's face twists into something odd at the mention of Alfred.

Diana and Clark quickly finish changing and look at each other confused for the odd look Damian gave, as well as Tim's reaction to it, the older boy narrowing his eyes suddenly at the other in warning...as if he's telling the younger to control himself and not say whatever he's thinking, at least not tonight.

Curiouser and curiouser is when Tim notices the older heroes staring and quickly switches to a small, tired smile, the movement so precise and quick that both Diana and Clark thought they imagined it. However, the disgruntled look Damian gives Tim is enough to reassure the two that what they saw was real, the heroes following closely behind Bruce as they head to the kitchen and wonder silently what could be up with Alfred.

------

Bruce lazily chews on his sandwich, his eyes feeling heavy as he eats, the side to side motion of chewing oddly helping him to relax more on the stool, his chest pressing into Damian's back more as his body continues to slump down. At this rate, he'll fall to sleep at the kitchen counter with his child trapped on his lap rather than in his bed, so, with a quick clear of his throat, Bruce's slightly scratchy voice starts up a conversation. "How has everyone been doing while I was away? How has Alfred been? I bet he's been relieved not having to watch over me for these past few months, huh?"

He tried to go for something silly, cause that's a thing he's been attempting to pick up lately, and not his usual dry humor either. But with the micro expression Damian just made and the very miniscule tension in Tim's shoulders at his comment, he either wasn't very funny or something is going on with Alfred, or someone else in the family.

Bruce definitely would believe that he just isn't that funny, but these expressions and tensing isn't the normal 'dad you're embarrassing' type of looks or body language, it's the 'uh oh! Dad just mentioned something that we didn't want to speak about ever or right now.' And while Bruce may be exhausted from the month long trip in space, dealing with interplanetary peace making and/or keeping, on top of handling a rowdy group (the younger ones) of Justice Leaguers along with the severe jet lag one gets after traveling in space, he is still a dad and father first and foremost on top of being Batman.

Bruce hates how his first instinct is to panic and immediately turn to Diana and Clark to somehow blame or fuss at them for insisting he should go. But, he knows he shouldn't cause unnecessary fights and arguments, plus, he doesn't know exactly what happened or if anything happened at all...so there is absolutely no need to panic...right? 

The longer Bruce sits in silence to think of a response, the more he starts to panic at the thought that maybe after being away for so long his family is feeling awkward around him, and that thought makes him feel way more paranoid and obsessive so he tries to think of something more reasonable. What is more reasonable you ask? Immediately imaging one of his kids dying while he's away-and nope! Absolutely not that thought- "Can you or I just say something about it already? You're causing father to spiral." Bruce blinks away the concern in his eyes to look questioningly at Damian for his stern tone, Diana and Clark also pause their eating to look between the two boys.

"Tim...I think that whatever is going on that you need to share it. Clark and I both saw the look you gave Damian when he made that face." 

Tim sighs tiredly and rests his head in his hands when Bruce immediately asks him about, "what look", he takes a moment to compose himself before speaking. "You're right, aunty Di. I just-it's just...Alfred has been acting...off I guess one could say?"  The teen looks down in guilt when seeing his dad's worried look, "You see...this is exactly why I thought we should wait to tell him this in the morning. You're getting stressed when you already look exhausted enough as is."

Bruce shakes his head, ignoring the heavy weight of exhaustion pressing on his eyelids in favor of addressing what Tim said. 

"What do you mean by off, Tim? Has he gotten worse when I was away?"

Tim looks up quickly at what Bruce just said, confusion shining in his eyes as he tilted his head, "Worse? What does that mean?" Damian stops his chewing on one of Bruce's (stolen) chips, looking up to his father, expressing his puzzlement in his big green eyes alone. "Timothy is right, father...what do you mean by worse? Did something happen to Pennyworth before you left?"

Clark and Diana silently worry when they see Bruce look guilty for a second before controlling his expression, they know that whatever is going on must be serious enough as it's causing him this much distress, but they are hoping that their friend won't choose to shut down and keep things to himself as he tends to do when extremely worried. "Bruce, if there was something that happened to Alfred a couple months ago before you left, why didn't you tell everyone? Is...is that why you were so insistent on staying here instead of leaving Earth?" Clark looks worried as he asks, he feels guilty at the thought of forcing his friend away from his father figure when the man may have needed him most.

Bruce sighs, the remainder of his sandwich and chips long forgotten, the worry and uncertainty replacing the feeling of hunger in his stomach. "Nothing happened-" he pauses at the looks he receives from everyone at the table, huffing in irritation at their doubt-"I promise that nothing happened. At least not that I've seen...I don't even think there's anything truly wrong, Alfred said he's fine, just been a little forgetful and such lately...but he expects to get better, he does." Bruce does his best not to outwardly shrink into himself at the desperation in his tone, as if he's trying to convince himself that everything is okay and is going to be okay because Alfred said so.

Damian frowns worriedly, making eye contact with Tim and having a silent conversation, nodding slightly before hugging and kissing Bruce goodnight before sliding out of his lap. Tim hops down from his own stool and smiles reassuringly at Bruce, deciding that him and Damian can badger their dad in the morning about it; for now though, they'll leave it to Diana and Clark. "G'night, dad. Make sure to get some rest soon or else Alfred will be mad at you, night uncle Clark and aunty Di." Bruce watches his children leave, a frown tugging on his lips and the worry building at the thought of him having made his kids mad. His arms automatically come up so he can cross them, internally telling himself that it isn't a gesture of self-comfort, but that he just feels like crossing them-which apparently that's not what it looks like-as his two friends look at him in concern. "Bruce, what-"

"I...made them mad?"

Diana softens at the anxious note in Bruce's voice and shakes her head, "No. They weren't mad, that isn't why they left. And even if it was...why sound so confused about it?"

Bruce automatically digs his nails into his arms to calm himself before remembering to let up, he feels irritated when realizing Clark must have heard it as the man's eyes drift look at his hands. "Because I never know when I make someone mad, I never know what I do wrong. I think-I think Alfred's issue is my fault." The abruptness in which Bruce switched to blaming himself cause the two superheroes to freeze in place, their tired minds trying to process what it is that their friend just said before it sinks in and Clark jumps in to quickly reassure the other man.

"How can anything going on now be your fault, B? I thought you said nothing even happened?"

A frustrated grunt escapes Bruce's lips, "I said that it's nothing that I have been able to see. But I'm pretty sure whatever is happening with him is my fault! Alfred is...I don't know? He's becoming more-"

"Master Bruce, when did you return home? The systems didn't alert me that you arrived, nor did any of the children. I have been wondering where you've been and no one ever had an answer." Alfred stands at the kitchen entrance with his arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed in disapproval, something fond warming Bruce's insides at hearing something familiar come out of the butler's mouth, though he doubts no one never told the older man of his whereabouts. Which, that thought causes Bruce to grow worried again.

"Tim and Damian just came down, Al. They told me at some point that you were upstairs resting so we thought not to bother you."

Bruce tries to keep his careful check over of Alfred subtle as he carefully eyes the man and his face, noting that nothing looks too out of place physically wise, which is good! The healthy appearance kind of eases the prickly tingle of anxiety in Bruce's gut.

Alfred doesn't pay attention to or notice his son's analyzing as he doesn't scold Bruce for his fretting and instead softens his stance and eyes the unfinished food on Bruce's plate. "Too tired to finish your food? Understandable. You look absolutely atrocious, sir, if I may say so? I have never seen such circles under your eyes before in my life! Was tonight that bad?" Bruce rolls his eyes at Alfred's comment, curiosity taking over his thoughts as he wonders exactly what Alfred means by, "tonight." He desires to ask the man what that means to him...but he is afraid that maybe he won't get the answer he's looking for, luckily enough, Diana must see he wants to ask the other that, so she takes over. Her tone friendly and warm.

"Good morning, Alfred. It's always lovely to see you. What do you mean by tonight?" 

Alfred nods politely at Diana but freezes for a moment, he isn't blind, he can see the way Bruce slumps ever so slightly in his seat when the woman asks her question. Now he feels unsure about what tonight means as well, so, he tries to play it off by asking a question of his own. 

"You know, tonight. What do you think tonight means?"

Diana manages to keep her smile on her face, the response is unusual for the Brit as he is always so straightforward in his responses, but she can work with this. "I think tonight means the mission we went on to space, we made a peace treaty between two different planets. Of course, you knew that though, Alfred." The three heroes wait in anticipation for the man's comment, but are baffled when Alfred looks momentarily surprised before fixing his face to look as if he recalls something, though Bruce finds himself bothered at the curtness of the man's response, "Yes. The space mission, of course."

What did Bruce do? Did Alfred not want him to actually go on the mission? Bruce knows that the older man can often be straightforward and to the point...but he never sounds so abrupt and-and upset, this is for sure Alfred's angry tone, Bruce should know, the man has had to take it to him many times.

Diana looks apologetic when Bruce looks at her, he softens as he knows the woman didn't do it on purpose, she was just doing what Bruce wanted and took the consequences of that came with asking Alfred the question. "Alfred, is everything okay? You never let me know that you didn't want me to leave on the mission, you never really ask me to stay because you know the importance of the work I do." Alfred remains silent, though Bruce grows more perplexed at the exasperated expression Alfred has on his face. Luckily enough, Diana and Clark sense the older man's growing frustration and-like the angels they are-leave their friend alone to talk to his dad alone, the Kryptonian and Amazonian reassuring Alfred they remember where the spare rooms are when he moves to guide them.

As soon as the two heroes leave and Alfred is left alone with Bruce, the older man takes the chance to state exactly what it is that's bothering him.

"How am I to let you know that I would or would not want you to depart if you never told me in the first place, sir? I have been asking the boys where you've been for days now and I could never find you, but it turns out you went off world without even a word to me." Alfred turns to glare at Bruce in a disappointed way, but instead finds his irritation at the fact his son never told him he was leaving, turning into irritation at the perturbed look on the other's face. "What exactly is that look for? Surely you aren't trying to feel guilty now when it's already happened? I have told you about-" 

"It's been more than a few days, Alfie. I have been off world for a whole year. I told you that I'd be leaving and even tried to stay behind, but you, Clark and Diana insisted that I go along to help. As soon as you found out I was trying to stay in Gotham, you insisted the change of scenery might do wonders for me, even if it's from another planet..." Bruce trails off and searches Alfred's face for any sign that he may remember even an inkling of the conversation they had, his heart sinks a bit more when the man looks disbelieving. "Don't you remember? You stated that me visiting another planet wouldn't be any different than living in Gotham since everyone here might as well be considered their own special alien race."

The silence is awkward for both Bruce and Alfred, with the former wanting to ask so many questions about his dad and what's been going on with him lately but stopping himself as Alfred looks like he'll fall over if he has to try remembering anything, and the latter feeling embarrassed at not remembering any of this. 

Alfred stands up straight and quickly takes Bruce's plate to the sink to distract himself from his own internal worry and confusion, "Of course. I just thought that I'd have a bit of a laugh teasing you when you came back, you should join your friends upstairs, Bruce, you need your rest." Bruce's brows furrow at the obvious dismissal, maybe not necessarily in the butler's tone, but his body language shows that he is done with the conversation and that it's just a joke as he said it was. But Bruce knows it's more than that...it has to be, why would Alfred suddenly forget these things now? He wishes that he could blame it on the other just being tired, but that doesn't seem like it at all.

"Alfred...it's okay if you don't remember, I just-"

Alfred huffs and scrubs at the dishes harder, "All is well, Bruce-" his tone is cold and clipped when speaking-"I am telling you to go to bed now, you need the rest after the long day you've had. I am fine, thank you."

Bruce stares at Alfred's back for a bit too long but decides an argument with the other isn't the best option right now, he just silently slides out his seat with a whispered, "goodnight," and heads up the stairs. Bruce feels stupid for feeling like a scolded toddler, but while he has definitely been on the receiving end of Alfred's short tone, never has the man used it for a topic that wasn't that serious when you think about it hard enough, and what exactly does the other man mean when saying a long day? Does he mean literally just the day Bruce had traveling back to earth or is Alfred already forgetting that the other mentioned it's been exactly three hundred sixty five days since seeing each other?

Bruce enters his room with a sigh at seeing his two friends sitting on his bed, he doesn't enjoy the concern on their faces either.

"What's wrong with Alfred?"

Clark quietly hisses Diana's name at the blunt question, the woman frowning at the look her Kryptonian friend is giving her. "What? What is the issue with asking what we all are thinking?" Clark sighs and drags his hand down his face, "Nothing inherently. But, you could try showing a little more...tact when such issues arise. You know we appreciate your honesty, but season your words with a little grace, please."

Diana exhales loudly but nods in agreement, "I understand. I'm sorry, Bruce...I know the question must be inappropriate considering the situation at hand."

Bruce leans back against the door, fully shutting it with a quiet 'click' sound as he looks up towards the ceiling in thought. "No, Diana is right to ask that question. I was going to say to you both before Alfred interrupted that he's been more forgetful as of late, I was afraid to leave him because I wanted to personally keep an eye on him and see if things were getting worse or if they'd return back to normal. Now I'm wondering if me leaving off world only made the issue worse?"

Clark shakes his head, "I don't think that's how this works, B. If this is something that's been happening before today or even a few months back when you told Alfred...then I am pretty sure he would have reached this point either way, with or without your being here. Since we are on the topic of Alfred being...different than usual, anyone notice how he had absolutely no idea what tonight meant?" Diana crosses her arms with a nod, "Yes. I was just thinking about that...he deflected by asking me a question and then answered based off of what I said, I've never seen him do that before in all the years I've interacted with that man."

At Bruce's prolonged silence, Clark and Diana turn to look at him, the two glancing at each other sympathetically towards their friend and his obvious distress. Diana sighs softly and gently calls the younger man's name, "Bruce, what are you planning on doing? Your sons noticed that something was amiss, we noticed it, and obviously you do too...the look in your eyes and the way you speak about Alfred is proof enough that you feel something's up."

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut tight at Diana's words, "He says that he's fine."

"But do you believe that?" Diana questions honestly, but not without gentleness, "Despite your stubborn nature and what feels like a know-it-all attitude at times. That's something I appreciate about you is your judgment and ability to sense when something is wrong...usually you are so quick to admit to us how right you are, yet now you avoid what it seems you already know, why? My friend, I think whatever you are telling yourself to do; do it. I know not only would it help you be at ease, but it could help Alfred as well." Bruce slumps against the door more in defeat and exhaustion, he feels like someone is playing a cruel joke on him, it feels like someone is twisting a knife deep into his heart with all the worry weighing on it.

But Diana is right, especially when it comes to matters of the heart and the truth within, so despite wanting to fight the two on it, all he can do is look at them tiredly and nod.

XXX

Bruce remembers how weighed down his body felt, not just by the exhaustion from the off world mission, but from the stress that decided to overwhelm him as soon as he returned back on earth. He remembers telling his family the next morning what had been going on, he hated to see the concern on each of his childrens faces and the uncertainty in their tones as they bombarded him with questions, but he knows that despite any personal feelings on the matter...his being honest was appreciated by the family.

And it all started with a phone call.

XXX

Richard loves being called by his family, even if two and a half out of one billion of them act like they don't like calling him, why do Jason and Damian have to be so tsundere about it? He loves receiving calls from Alfred to let him know that there's a warm plate saved for him, and he especially loves when Bruce calls him; even more so, Richard treasures the moments where his dad just calls to simply hear his voice and check on his well-being. Though Richard also adores when he catches Bruce trying to call him when busy and he's not, picking up the phone with a wide smirk at the awkward silence his dad stews in, trying to make excuses as to why he's calling (he's that half to the two others).

But, sometimes not every call that the eldest receives is always one that makes him happy, like now, Richard was just trying to enjoy a day out with some of his siblings when his phone rang. He picks it up quickly as it's Bruce and calls from him are either entertaining or something to be concerned about...sadly it's the latter today.

"I told you the kids would be just fine with me, B. We've only been out for..."

Stephanie responds from behind the curtain she's trying out clothes in, "Seven hours. We left early today to get some shopping done, remember?"

Richard's eyes widen and he looks at the phone's time curiously before laughing and gesturing to his siblings, "Wow! Yeah, uh...seven hours, we've only been gone that long. No wonder why you guys were hounding me for food-" the eldest goes silent at Bruce's immediate questioning interrogating on if he's fed his siblings yet, Stephanie must know what's happening as she pokes her head out from the curtain with an amused smirk-"Yeah...yeah, I've remembered to feed them actual food."

Jason pushes himself off the wall and towards Richard so he can speak into his phone, "No he didn't. The first place he dragged us to when entering the mall was some candy store, we all got something from there and ate that, then we all got distracted by other things so we never ate real food. M'pretty sure Tim has fainted from the lack of nourishment-ack!" The older teen grunts as his face is pushed away and smirks at his older brother trying to excuse himself, "Wha-no! Of course Tim didn't actually faint, dad. They are all being dramatic about it...though I confess that maybe I did kind of let food slip my mind-anyways! I want to hear what you called about! Do you need us to pick something up?"

Richard waits patiently as Bruce takes time to say whatever it is he wants to say, he's learned not to assume the worst is happening as sometimes the other man just calls because he loves him and other times it's that he doesn't know if it's okay to just say it, so patience is something that's much needed during this short time.

However, while waiting, he glances over at Tim and Damian who are trying on fancy glasses together, his smile growing fond when the younger allows Tim to pick him up so he can see his reflection in the display cases mirror. The frantic waving of someone's arms from the corner of his eye catch Richard's attention, so he looks towards Stephanie who immediately starts posing in her new outfit for him, his eyes taking in the Y2K look she's been going for recently and decides that the style fits her...though she's someone who is constantly changing her aesthetic, so he wonders how long this will last.

His attention hones back in on Bruce when the man softly clears his throat, "There has been something that has been on my mind lately and I have decided-through Diana and Clark's unwanted but...appreciated input-that I should share it with the family as well, ah...minus Alfred."

Richard stops smiling at hearing that and furrows his brows, "Uncle C and Aunty Di actually...they actually agreed that you should have this conversation with us instead of Alfred? What's going on?" At the curious looks and protests he receives from his younger siblings at wondering what's going on, Richard waves his hand at them to quiet the group down, listening as his dad sighs tiredly and responds in a tone that implies whatever the topic is about has been thought about without breaks. He wouldn't be surprised if Bruce lost sleep turning the thoughts over in his head, "They did...it's something that I have been noticing with Alfred for awhile now, so that's why he can't be here for the conversation. Tim and Damian know what the concerns are...we somewhat brought the issue up last night when I came home. I'm sure they'd be willing to fill you all in if you ask. I love you, Dicky Bird."

Richard didn't even realize how tense his body was until his shoulders dropped at the other saying he loves him, his smile turns more relaxed and he softly responds back. "I love you too, dad. We'll be there as quickly as possible...and I'll try not to break traffic rules along the way." As soon as he hangs up and pockets his phone, Richard is bombarded with questions from the family. The man looks between his siblings before settling on Damian and Tim, "Dad said that you two would know what the conversation would be about. Apparently last night you two mentioned an issue with Alfred? B apparently wants to talk to us about it today as it's been a concern he's had for a bit now."

Tim sighs in relief, he was worried something really horrible was happening with Bruce.

"Yeah, me and Damian noticed Alfred acting kind of weird while dad was away. I tried to mention it yesterday to him but he kind of freaked out about it, so I thought it'd be best to let him have a breather from our interrogation and let Aunty Di and Uncle Clark handle it...which they apparently did."

Richard's brows pinch together in worry for whatever could be wrong with Alfred, and with a small sigh, rounds his family up so they can leave for home.

------

Richard is just about trampled under his younger siblings feet with the way they all push at him and trip over one another trying to get inside, he tries calming them down and asking them to wait or try knocking on the door instead, but all he gets for his efforts is someone stepping very harshly on his foot...which he doesn't know if it that was done on accident or on purpose.

Luckily enough, Richard's slightly overdramatic pained cries are answered as the door is swung open to reveal an overly entertained Kate looking at all of them humorously, her brow raised in question. "Where's the fire? You all look like you're crushing poor little Dickie to death, you okay?" The redhead smiles at the chorus of apologies uttered to her instead of Richard, her smile growing at the eldest siblings offended scoff of protest, "You see the way I get treated by my dearly beloved siblings? At least you had the decency to ask of my well-being, and I'm surprisingly just fine after such an ordeal."

Kate chuckles and watches as the Wayne children form a line and calmly walk in the house instead, her eyes giving away the amusement she feels from Richard's words.

"Hm...maybe it's because you didn't feed them? You know how they get when they're hungry."

Richard shuts the door and pauses for a moment to process his cousin's words, giving her a playful glare at the reminder of his forgetfulness. "Yeah, yeah, not like themselves. Should've fed them a Snickers I guess?" Kate snorts at the comment and leads the kids to the family room, reassuring Jason that Bruce has food waiting for them when the teen gives a longing look to the kitchen, geeze...Bruce's kids really did get their theatrics from him.

At the site of beautifully prepared sandwiches on the coffee table, Jason and the rest of his siblings dash forward-and with Bruce's guidance-figure out which plate belongs to who. Kate shares an amused look with her younger cousin before clapping her hands together to get the rowdy groups attention, "Okay guys! Let's not forget why we are here in the first place. Bruce called us here for what sounds like a very important reason, and I'm curious as to what could be so serious that Alfred isn't allowed in on it." At the reminder of why they were called here, the children quickly turn their now apprehensive looks onto their dad, Jason speaking around a mouthful of food.

"Why...w're we c'lled? W's wr'ng?"

Bruce does his best not to squirm under the attention...he's had to act as if he's way braver than he feels before for goodness sakes! So what's the difference now?

"I am sure Tim and Damian shared what they have witnessed with Alfred along the way home-"

Stephanie interrupts, her response candid, "Actually, they were quite tight-lipped about the information. Anytime we'd asked we were met with silence or the same response being: 'we think it's dad's right to let you know himself, sorry.' They did at least tell us at the mall that Alfred was acting really weird...though that's nothing new as that's basically what you told us."

Bruce can't help the warmth in his heart at Damian and Tim's thoughtfulness, though the longer he thinks about it, he doesn't know whether to stay thankful of their choice or to feel slightly overwhelmed at having to explain everything himself to his family. One thing Bruce is consistently thankful for right now is his childrens-specifically Stephanie's-ability to break the tension by being straightforward and even sarcastic while sounding so conversational, though he can see her tone isn't appreciated by his youngest child, so before a fight can break out between Damian and Stephanie, Bruce clears his throat.

"Thank you for that bit of information, Steph, now I know exactly what I have to tell you all to fill you in on the problem." Cass tilts her head in question and Barbara says the unasked question out loud, "And what exactly is that?"

Bruce sighs tiredly and attempts his best comforting smile: "Everything."

------

"And now I'm even more-" Bruce waves his hand-"you know, at having everyone point it out. I knew I should have listened to myself before but I was so confident in Alfred that I believed everything he told me...or at least I wanted to, now it's my fault that this is getting worse. I should have just listened to myself in the first place and took him to see Leslie, but I hoped to respect his wish of not seeing a doctor and now he has to pay for my carelessness."

Everyone remains silent at the troublesome news, all trying to process the words in their own way and figure out what to say...if there's anything to say at all.

"You can't blame yourself, dad...we probably would have done a similar thing if it were us. I mean, it's Alfred, if he says he's fine then that's the way it usually goes...and I don't think anyone in this house would ever expect something like this from him, that's never really a thought that never occurs is how he could be sick-" the sound of leather squeaking causes Richard to pause with a frown on his face at the way Bruce's knuckles turn white from how hard he's gripping the arms of the chair he sits in, obviously his dad is still in denial about whatever is going on with Alfred. Maybe the actual issue comes from not being in denial about it and admitting to himself deep down what he knows to be true? Maybe if he lets his dad know he's not alone in feeling lost then things will be fine-"Dad...you aren't-"

Bruce cuts his eldest off and looks around at everyone's empty plates, "Does anyone need more food? Jason? I saw you looking around for more earlier."

Jason jumps slightly at his name being called suddenly, his frown deepening at Bruce's attempts at distracting himself while he shares a concerned look with Richard. "Dad, it's okay for now, just sit back. You already prepared a lot for us and I'm sure most of us are full now, so just relax-" Bruce's hands clench open and closed at the word relax, he's perfectly relaxed, okay? He doesn't look unrelaxed, in fact, he thinks he's being too overly relaxed at such a topic being discussed. I mean, who asks someone if they want more food if they aren't relaxed?

"Relaxed? I am relaxed and I'm fine. I just need--I want--someone needs food! Please, someone needs food."

Bruce hates the looks he receives from his children and cousin, why are they looking at him like that? He doesn't need sympathy right now, he's fine, he's perfectly fine. Why can't they see that?

Bruce almost leaves the room, half afraid he'll flip over the table and break the glass plates in his distress anger...yeah, anger, it's much easier to tell himself that it's all because of anger instead of the crushing anxiety eating away at his mind. Luckily, before he can get up and leave his problems behind, Damian stands up holding his plate, looking to his father with big green eyes. "I could always use another sandwich...please? Pennyworth has taught you well in the art of sandwich making, father, it tastes delicious."

Hearing that someone needs him-needs his help-is enough to snap Bruce back into reality and out of the cloud of despair that was quickly weighing on him.

With a nod, Bruce guides his youngest into the kitchen to prepare the boy as many sandwiches as he wishes, not paying attention to the looks Damian shares with the rest of the family before they are out of sight. Neither does he pay attention to his son as he hops up to sit on the counter and watch as his father meticulously prepares too many sandwiches for one person alone, the older doesn't see the concern clouding Damian's eyes as the once neat sandwich making becomes sloppier with the increasing shakiness of his dad's hands.

"This looks familiar."

Bruce curses softly as he messes up yet another sandwich and tosses the bread to the side, "What...what looks familiar?"

Damian kicks his legs idly and shrugs, "You and the constant hand movements. Did you know that Alfred does the same thing when he's worried? The whole time you were on that mission and he didn't know where you were, he did something with his hands, whether that was cleaning or folding clothes or trying to cook something." Bruce tenses at hearing Alfred's name and accidentally messes up another sandwich by crushing it in his hands, his heart racing at why his son is choosing to do this to him. "Damian." He says the name like a warning, something slightly desperate in his tone for the boy to just stay quiet as he fixes his food, but the other just hums and continues on.

"I suppose it makes sense. You were raised by Alfred after all...so I'm sure that you learned plenty of little habits like that from him over the years of him raising you up. He also tends to make much more than nece-" Damian doesn't even flinch when Bruce slams his messy hands on the counter just a touch too forcefully, neither does he back down when his father finally looks to him in anger, his tone shaky and voice tight as he speaks. "Stop! Just stop! What is the point of all this!?"

Damian finds the courage to speak after searching his father's eyes and seeing the uncertainty within the icy orbs, "Because you seem to be running away from the fact that the man who raised you is unwell! You seem to be hiding the fact that the man who became your dad is showing worrying signs in his health behind anger! You are uncertain of the outcome, father, and I'm trying to understand why you run from that fact? I...I was uncertain when I came here for the first time, at getting to be around and see the man who is my father, who I was told stories about from a young age. I hid it behind anger too and acted out because I was uncertain of the outcome...and you always, always proved my fears wrong. Now that I've gotten to know you, I would-I would be terrified to lose you."

Damian keeps his stance tall despite the tears gathering in his eyes and the sadness creeping into his heart at what his father must be going through.

Bruce tries so desperately to hold onto the anger he's easily crafted and cultivated over the years in response to situations where he's scared to show how he really feels, but he can feel the cracks in his mask growing bigger at Damian's words, he understands what the boy is saying to him...but does he want to admit it now? In an attempt to hold onto that anger, Bruce tries to say Damian's name angrily again, his voice sounding less harsh this time and more raw; vulnerable.

"Damian."

"Father."

Bruce's eyebrows pinch together at the confidence in the way his son says his name, "...Damian." He tries it again.

"Dad."

Bruce's breath hitches at the shakiness in Damian's tone the second time around, he is still trying to fight the overwhelming emotions, so he tries it one more time. "D-Damian."

This time there's a pause, Damian's voice matching the vulnerability in his father's tone as he says, "Daddy."

Bruce finally looks back up at Damian, not even realizing his head was hanging so low, and his heart finally cracks at seeing the same uncertainty he feels in his youngest child's eyes. He never took the time to think of what Damian could be going through...at what all his family could be going through, and it's with that realization that Bruce finally allows the dam to break and all his emotions come pouring out in one desperate cry.

"I'm sorry, Damian-baby, come here."

Bruce ignores the mess on his hands and pulls his son in close, holding his baby close to his heart as the child shakes from the force of his cries.

Bruce turns to look at the entrance of the kitchen when hearing his family shuffle in the doorway, standing still; unsure. Unsure as to if they are allowed to join in on the moment, and his answer to them is extending his right arm to them in invitation, the cries getting louder as all of them slam into him and release their worries in a mess of unintelligible babbling. He sucks in a deep breath to try and control himself for what he wants to say, "I-I know you all knew this already...but I'm...I'm scared. I'm absolutely t-terrified at the thought of Alfred-of my dad dying, of forgetting me and us-of everything! I'm scared of it all because he felt like my structure after everything collapsed from under me and around me, and I'm so sorry t-that I forgot how you all must feel. Please forgive me."

Bruce's kids just hug onto him tighter and simultaneously tell him that they love him, they tell him not to worry about it and that they understand. He feels overwhelmed at how...good and healthy his kids have turned out despite the mess that he is, his eyes water in a mix of the sadness and affection he feels towards his children, his icy blue's meeting Kate's as she fondly watches all of them from the entrance.

At the look Bruce gives her, Kate smiles as best she can, though she can tell how wobbly it is from the way her lips tremble. She waits patiently as her younger cousin's children get the comfort they need from him and each other, watches as Stephanie takes Damian from Bruce's arms and hugs tightly onto him instead, opening her arms up to the man when everyone moves away from him and finally sheds her tears at the way Bruce runs into her arms and wraps his own around her. All she can imagine in this moment is that eight-year-old desperately clinging onto her the moment she arrived back in Gotham for her aunt and uncle's funeral, her hand rising to cradle her cousin's head against her shoulder the way she did all those years ago when he sought her arms for comfort.

"I'm scared too, B. He helped me a lot when my parents died...and I can't imagine losing him either. But you, you were raised by him, and I know how scary this must be, you never quite liked the unknown."

Bruce squeezes Kate and cries into her neck instead, his hands gripping onto her shirt tightly. "He's my second dad...I don't want to lose him in any way. I-I know assuming he'll die isn't exactly r-right...but does such a quick change in health ever spell out good things?" Kate stays silent at the question, from personal experience, her side of the family has always had issues with health, especially at the later points in life...and nine times out of ten the word it spelled out was death, so she can't exactly say to Bruce that Alfred won't die. Granted that's just for her family history, they don't really know much about Alfred's family line, but that's just fine, she doesn't think that Bruce would accept any attempts to soothe him with carefully crafted words.

Instead, Kate just squeezes onto her cousin tighter and cradles his head against her neck, as if she can hide him from the reality of his fears for a moment in time.

XXX

Everything seemed to have shifted during that moment, both for the better and the worst, Bruce was thankful for that moment as it was a chance for him to remember that the situation was more than just him...it was about everyone that Alfred knows and loves. He remembers being thankful to his children for their understanding and consideration in a moment where he acted out of fear, anger and stress, he was appreciative of their maturity in a moment where he himself didn't feel mature.

Bruce felt like that moment helped him grow even closer to his children in a time of vulnerability, was thankful for the kids thoughtfulness to also openly show him how scared the news made them, but Bruce also dreaded the thought of dealing with Alfred afterwards. The older man has never liked going to a hospital, and to be honest, Bruce didn't even remember seeing the other needing to be taken in for any sort of sickness...not from any past memories anyway, Alfred was always just so...healthy, and not once did Bruce ever remember seeing him otherwise, so maybe that's another reason why this whole situation made him overwhelmed with anxiety? Bruce has never seen his dad in a state where he became the recipient of caretaking, it was always the opposite for Alfred.

Bruce recalls the way the rest of the days events went, the family continued on as normal when Alfred returned home from his impromptu shopping trip with Clark and Diana, he remembers the feeling of peace and warmth he felt that night in his bedroom with all his children surrounding him, but he also remembers the worry warring with the feeling of contentment in his mind.

But the one thing Bruce recollects to this day is the moment he got Alfred to agree to a visit to Leslie's office, it was a couple weeks after the other man kept getting everyone's names wrong all of a sudden, Bruce remembers practically begging his dad to get a check up and feeling relief sink into his bones when Alfred (begrudgingly) agreed to it.

XXX

"Things should be right quick, Al. Leslie just wanted to do a checkup, especially since the kids had theirs done lately, we thought you should get one too."  The latter part is definitely a lie...but Bruce doesn't know what else to say to the man who can sniff out his lies a mile away, so maybe if he uses his grandkids as an excuse then Alfred won't prod as much?

Bruce checks his watch for what feels like the millionth time already-and surprisingly enough-Alfred picks up on the nervous gesture and looks at his son critically before sighing at whatever it is he sees on the younger one's face and gently covering the watch with his hand. "I assure you that whatever it is you're nervous about should absolutely be of no concern to you. I adore you, sir, but sometimes you do have the habit of over exaggerating things, just calm down and sit still with me."

It is my concern when you keep forgetting things you used to know goes unsaid, even though Bruce is thinking it and desperately wants to say that to Alfred, he knows the other will just keep denying that he's not forgetting things...though sometimes he sees-what feels like-a moment of clarity in the man's eyes whenever he musters up the courage to say something to Alfred, it's like the man would grow nervous himself and be in denial about it, not because he was confused, but because he knew exactly what was going on and didn't want to acknowledge it himself. And Bruce really wants to say something after Alfred's attempted reassurances, but the familiar feeling of the other's thumb brushing side to side on his hand causes his lips to clamp shut from the feeling of comfort that washes over him.

So, Bruce obediently sits still with Alfred while the other gently brushed his thumb across the other's hand.

The duo wait for only a few more seconds-but it feels like hours to Bruce-until Leslie calls Alfred's name. "Alfred Pennyworth, it's been awhile since I've seen you. You look good per usual."

Bruce tries not to roll his eyes when Alfred gives him a pointed look for the woman's comment, "Thank you. Not everyone here seems to share that opinion, but yours is much appreciated as it's the right one to have." Leslie gives a chuckle at the words and gives Bruce a once-over, noticing the stress in the man's stance alone, "Yes. But can you blame him? You've done so much for him, Alfred, one of those things being fretting over his lack of self-care and concern for himself, though I hear there is a role reversal here as he is now claiming you aren't being as concerned for your well-being."

Alfred hums and waves his hand, "He's imagining stuff cause he doesn't get enough sleep. I have told Bruce time and time again that one day it would have negative effects on him, and now it seems that hour has come as he claims I'm forgetting things I know for a fact I know. Maybe you should be checking his head instead?" Leslie chuckles yet again and gestures for Alfred to head into the examination room first. "Well, I will definitely be the one making sure that any claims being made are false or not. It would be foolish of me as a doctor to wave off the concerns of one of my best-worst patients, especially considering who he is."

Bruce opens his mouth to protest against the best-worst patient comment, but the door closes before he can complain to Leslie that any fight he's put up was for a good reason...even if he knows deep down that it actually wasn't.

Instead, Bruce sighs as the anxious thoughts come back at the silence surrounding him now, every good and negative scenario playing around in his head about what today's diagnosis could be...if there is anything at all, choosing to wrap his arms around himself in a hug and settle back into the chair as he focuses on those worrisome thoughts.

------

The crushing weight in Bruce's chest as well as the lightweight, almost dreamy, feeling the rest of his body is giving him is about to make him scream at the top of his lungs. He doesn't know how long it's been since he's anxiously patiently been waiting for Leslie and Alfred to return, he remembers seeing them awhile ago when the two left to run a few CT scans-which absolutely drove Bruce's distress up a few thousand notches-but Leslie just gave him a look that asked him if he trusted her...which obviously the answer was yes, so he bowed his head and settled back in his chair to wait until Leslie was done with whatever she wanted to do.

But who knows how long ago that was? Bruce stopped looking at his watch as he figured the amount of times he was looking at it was unhealthy, now he is left to his own biting thoughts and the feeling of being in a dream as every nightmarish scenario flashes through his mind.

He doesn't even know why he's overreacting...Leslie talked to him about running a couple scans on Alfred's brain to see if there were any changes to it, so it's not like the woman is surprising him with something unknown and unexpected, they talked extensively about the way things would go, will go, and even how it could possibly go. Bruce knows that the older woman mentioned every possible scenario-not only cause she's a great doctor-but for his sake...he knows how she knows his habits, down to his obsessive need to know every possible outcome if he can, and thankfully Leslie kindly fed him everything he wanted and more...so why?

Bruce hates feeling like a scared child who is waiting for someone-anyone-to comfort him, to give him what he needs because he doesn't feel like he can even process what that is-

"Thank you for your patience, Alfred. You are definitely much more patient than Bruce during checkups."

Bruce snaps out of his thoughts to give a playfully hurt look towards the woman, "I'm very hurt by that, doctor. The way you say that makes me think you have favorite patients around here...and I'm pretty sure that has to be against one of your many rules as a doctor." Leslie turns to Bruce with a smile on her lips from his comment, her own witty retort dying in her throat at seeing how pale the younger looks when she finally is able to eye him properly, with a soft sigh she gently utters, "Oh Bruce-" before giving the other a comforting look and handing Alfred over to an assistant of her's to be looked after so her and Bruce can speak about the older man's condition without any problems.

Bruce feels trepidation when Leslie carefully nods her head to the room where Alfred just got his checkup in, even though the other remains calm and relaxed, he still feels like whatever he'll hear will be something he doesn't like...something he's scared of.

"Leslie..."

The woman quickly looks up at Bruce from the sound of her name being whispered, her usually sharp gaze softens at the uncertainty written over the other's face, her hands automatically reaching out to grab Bruce's clammy hands in her warm one's so she can warm them up. "I haven't even said anything yet, Bruce. Just breathe with me." 

This whole moment feels all too familiar for both Bruce and Leslie, the last time the doctor remembers holding the other in such a way was the night her best friend and his wife died...she remembers the pain of having to look over her own friend's body, as well as the overwhelming sadness she felt when Bruce dropped by with that still small hope that maybe she saved at least one of his parents. She remembers holding onto his hands in the exact same way because he was already starting to panic at the mere thought of what she could say, even if somewhere deep down he knew they were dead, it didn't mean that he wanted to hear it be confirmed, especially by someone who feels like his Aunt.

Leslie feels Bruce squeeze onto her hands tightly, her mind going back to hands that felt so much smaller and dirty with blood and grime from Crime Alley, her heart aching as she watches the much older Bruce go through the same process he did years ago of taking a deep calming breath in and out.

She hates being the one to give out bad news...especially to Bruce, but she knows that it's a part of her work.

When Bruce opens his eyes and stares at Leslie with a much more clear-eyed look, the woman gives a small smile to show how proud she is before shedding her role as concerned Aunt and putting back on her professional doctor one. "Bruce, I know we talked over the phone about all the possibilities of this visit, and even some things we could do to see what's going on with Alfred's brain-" the man nods and swallows nervously, his hands tightening their grip on the woman's own at the prickle of fear that touches his heart at the words-"You were all for doing anything we could to see what's going on, including the CT scans. And...there is nothing showing up on them."

Bruce slumps with relief and releases a loud breath he didn't even know he was holding, his gaze growing confused as to why Alfred is being so forgetful. "I don't get it...if nothing is showing up, why is Alfred having trouble remembering things he used to know and forgetting to do things he did before? I know...I know we talked about it possibly being Alzheimer's or Dementia, but it should show up, shouldn't it?" Leslie takes a deep breath to prepare herself for what she has to say, "That's not the way it works, Bruce. If it's in its early stages then it won't show up on the scans, though I do find it peculiar as it does sound as though Alfred's mind is forgetting things rapidly, but, we shouldn't immediately cross out Alzheimer's or Dementia just because of a couple failed scans."

Bruce doesn't know if he feels better or worse from the news...if anything, he kind of feels numb right now.

"I-...what do you think it sounds like?"

Leslie frowns at the question, shaking her head, maybe because she knows Bruce so well she's holding back...and maybe she's being a little selfish? But she's sick and tired of being the bearer of bad news, especially to a man like Bruce who seems to only know tragedy, however, at the desperate look in the man's eyes, she just sighs softly and concedes to the prodding look. "I think it sounds like dementia for right now, which is more like an umbrella term for more specific conditions that effect someone's memory or thinking skills. To be honest with you Bruce, it could end up being anything...especially since Alfred has served in the military, right? That much you do know about his past, he could have brain trauma that I don't know about."

Bruce pauses at the thought and carefully pulls away from Leslie's warm hands, stepping away when the woman reaches out for him as he does so, "What am I supposed to do then? I can't treat a problem that's not even showing up and I can't find a cure for something that doesn't have one."

Leslie pulls back her hands and holds them to her chest, gripping them tight so she doesn't attempt to reach out for Bruce again, she should handle this one step at a time...just like when he was eight. "Bruce, look at me-" she waits patiently for the man to look at her, her gaze unwavering and tone firm as she reassures the younger. "None of this is your fault, do you hear me? I know what you're thinking and I think you should stop thinking it right now. You don't have to do anything, because the harsh truth is: there isn't anything you can do for Alfred but be there for him. You can also leave it to me and my team to try and figure out the issue and if there is one, especially that can be seen-in fact, it doesn't even have to be me who helps Alfred...say the word and I'll get you the best Doctors I trust to try and work this thing out."

Bruce feels the tears gathering in his eyes, he hates being told there's nothing for him to do...he knows that, that's why it hurts so much. It seems that whenever he's told he can't do something for someone, it's because something bad has or will happen.

"I don't-Leslie I...I don't want to just sit there. You know what happened the last time I sat still? My parents died-" Leslie's eyes widen and she swoops in to quickly dry Bruce's teary eyes, her own hazel one's watering in sadness. "Which wasn't your fault, Bruce. It wasn't your fault then and whatever is going on with Alfred isn't your fault now. I promise you that it's not your fault, just-just be there for him like you're doing now...it is helping more than you could ever know, just like Alfred did for you when what happened to your parents happened."

Bruce hugs onto Leslie, sniffling into her coat and shaking his head as he whispers, "But it was-is my fault! You tell me to do nothing, but doing nothing is exactly what got them killed in the first place...maybe I'm not doing enough? Maybe I need to do more and Alfred will-" Leslie pulls away from the hug slightly to look at Bruce, "He'll what? What do you think will happen if you 'do more'? Will Alfred's problem suddenly go away? Will he miraculously be healed? Tell me, Bruce, where do you plan to start anyway? What exactly will you be doing for him?"

Bruce's hands fist at the lab coat in distress, his eyebrows pinching together as he desperately tries to think of an answer, his mouth opening and closing as though he's a fish out of water and his lower lip wobbling as it does when he's trying not to cry.

"I-..."

Leslie runs her hand across Bruce's head in comfort, her slightly stern gaze softening at realizing what he's trying to say. "It's okay, Bruce...I promise it'll be okay."

Bruce lets the tears fall as he confesses, "I don't know! I don't know what I'd do and I hate it. I just want to help, Leslie...I just want to help." Leslie hugs onto the younger and takes the full weight of her nephew against her, unbothered by his heavy weight nor his size, "You are helping him. I know you don't see it now, but you are, you are doing so much for him despite how much Alfred doesn't want it. We both know that whether his mind is fully intact or not, that he'd still be disgruntled about the whole thing, yes?"

At the slow nod against her neck, Leslie sighs softly, grateful that Bruce doesn't feel like arguing against her claims right now...she doesn't know if she could handle arguing right now anyway, because the thought of one of her closest friend's slowly losing himself; losing his memories, does worry her too. She's come to bond with Alfred over the years, and it all started with Bruce, how they both cared for him and were concerned with his health-both mental and physical-after witnessing his parents murder, it seemed after that, their friendship only continued to blossom as they realized they enjoyed similar stuff. Bonded over their shared love of Bruce Wayne.

The wetness on her collarbone brings Leslie back to attention, her heart aching for Bruce and how he must feel right now, because while the scans showed nothing...it doesn't mean that nothing is wrong with Alfred, and she knows that until there is an actual diagnosis she can give to him, Bruce will be imagining every worse case scenario until then.

"Be still with me, Bruce, just be still and quiet."

Bruce sighs into Leslie's shoulder, "I didn't even say anything-hey!" A flick to his head cuts him off, he tries to sound upset-tries mustering up some sort of indignation in his tone, but it comes out quiet like a whisper. "You aren't saying anything out loud, Bruce, but I can practically hear your head screaming at you. Don't-...it's great to have plans for the future, but remember to live in the present...no matter how much it may suck." Leslie slumps further in relief when Bruce squeezes her just a bit tighter, she never knows how saying things like that will go over with him, but the small, breathy chuckle breathed against her neck for her honesty makes her smile and squeeze onto the younger.

Despite her own worry's, Bruce's present laughter and comfort is all she needs to believe everything will work out just fine.

------

Alfred stands a bit taller when Leslie and Bruce exit the examination room, his forehead crinkling in worry at his son's red eyes and exhausted appearance overall, what could have possibly made him look that way? The older man feels somewhat soothed when Leslie's eyes meet his; strong and assured as the corners crinkle with her small smile, the doctor whispering to Bruce and Alfred how she'll be in touch before sending the two on their way.

Alfred follows Bruce out to their car, resting his hand gently on the crook of the other's arm when they are finally alone, "Master Bruce."

Nothing.

"Master Bruce?"

Alfred sighs softly when the other doesn't answer, his lips twitching into an amused smile when the younger comes to as soon as he tries grabbing the car keys.

"I told you I can drive, Alfred."

Bruce turns to glare at Alfred, his face immediately softening at the tenderness in the man's gaze. "Alfred? Are you-what's wrong?" The older man looks down at his outstretched hand reaching for the keys now clenched tightly in Bruce's own, his shoulders shaking lightly at the soft laugh that escapes his lips. "I just remembered how you were the exact same way when you were younger-" at Bruce's questioning look, Alfred smiles more and sighs-"Anytime you asked to do something for me, you would inevitably pause in doing it and become territorial over your task when I came to do it myself."

Bruce quickly glances down at his balled up fist when Alfred softly taps it, looking back up to see the other looking nostalgic.

"You would clench onto whatever it was I came to retrieve from you just like this, never letting go and demanding you could do it because you promised." Bruce tries to hold back his embarrassed blush when Alfred looks back up at him, knowing he must have failed as the gunmetal colored orbs glance from cheek-to-cheek fondly. 

Instead, he clears his throat and nods his head softly. "Well...it's still true. I can do it and will do it because I said I could, and nothing could ever change that...and I mean nothing."

Alfred is taken aback by the sudden intensity in Bruce's tone, his head tilted the tiniest bit in curiosity, he isn't sure if this is Bruce's way of distracting him from the blush or something else entirely. He's guessing it must be whatever happened inside of the hospital, which is why he hums softly in question. "What exactly is nothing to you, Bruce? I am all for leaving myself in your care for the drive back home, but if you are going to be spacing out like you're an astronaut, then I must ask for the keys."

The weight that seems to be an ever present feeling in Bruce's chest feels lighter at Alfred's little joke, his nose scrunching up as he tries not smile.

"C'mon, Al. I'm trying to be serious right now...I'm not supposed to smile-what? What is it now?"

Alfred doesn't know if he's ever smiled this much, but he's glad that his attempts to get Bruce to smile worked, there's always been...something about the younger smiling that brings him a peace and joy that's unexplainable. "That sounds familiar, sir. I believe that's something you always said to me as well, always tried to copy my stern looks when you could-I daresay you were trying to be me."

Bruce relaxes into his seat while nodding his head in agreement, "I was trying to be you. You were my friend as well as my role model...I thought you were fascinating; like those stoic, tough guy characters I would see in my comics and cartoons. It was like a dream coming true for me when I was old enough to realize that you were here to stay as well as my Butler, you know? I remember bragging to other kids that they didn't have an Alfred in their lives."

Alfred raises a brow, "You bragged that they didn't have an Alfred? Not a Butler who just happens to be named Alfred?"

Bruce sits in thought for a moment, just now realizing how silly it is to brag to someone else-essentially-about someone's name and the person themselves, not their job or position they hold.

"Well...yes? Yeah, I did, okay? I don't regret it though, I made everyone jealous over that...I knew it wouldn't take long for them to realize how cool you were like I did." Bruce turns to stare at Alfred again, finding the man hasn't yet looked away, he really is trying hard not to laugh...but they've kind of gotten off topic and Bruce really can't handle the happiness on Alfred's face, nor can he ignore any longer the laughter bubbling up in his chest. Of course, he cracks first with a light chuckle, just now realizing-by the look on Alfred's face-that he was planning to make him laugh from the beginning.

Alfred smiles proudly and glances down at the hand holding onto the keys, noticing that the appendage is no longer balled up, but loose and relaxed: mission accomplished then.

Even though Alfred didn't get an answer to his inner question as to why Bruce was so distressed, he thinks that this result is much better, and that whatever is going on, can wait to be addressed another day. For now, he just pats Bruce's hand comfortingly and buckle's himself in, "There's a good lad. Now that I can trust you to not cause an accident, you may begin driving us back home so I can prepare our lunch."

Bruce starts up the car after buckling himself in, his smile remaining as he responds in a way that's all too commonplace for him. "Yes, Alfred."

XXX

Everything since the hospital visit became a blur for Bruce, he tried to take Leslie's reassurance and instructions to heart-and sometimes, sometimes he felt as though it was easier to handle some days. Feeling as though the overwhelming feeling of dread was nothing but a mere whisper in the back of his mind on the good days...but the bad days, the bad days just only seemed to dig deep into Bruce's mind that there's nothing he can do for Alfred, that no matter how much the other forgets and even asks questions about what's going on, that there's nothing he can say that could truly soothe the others deteriorating mind.

And now...

Now Bruce has to stop being the Batman so often to take care of Alfred, which isn't necessarily an issue he supposes...Alfred did always want him to retire or take a break.

Bruce just never imagined the reason would be because his dad is unwell.

And-

.

..

...

....

He's afraid.

Afraid of being forgotten...I mean, isn't that a type of death in and of itself? Bruce's heart clenches in sadness whenever Alfred gets his name wrong or mixes his childrens names up, nothing about it is...normal, not in the regular ways someone could forget a name. Bruce can see by the look on Alfred's face that he sometimes genuinely doesn't recognize who it is he's talking to; Barbara could be Kate because they are both redheads, or Richard-Jason, all because they have black hair and blue eyes...nevermind the completely different voices and builds, something that Alfred no longer pays attention to.

Bruce just...he doesn't want to be forgotten; who does? Especially by someone you love and cherish with all your heart.

He just worries about what Alfred's future may look like-and if he's being completely honest with himself for one second; he wonders what his future would look like without Alfred, without his dad here to guide him and knock some sense into him.

Alfred's memory seems to be getting worse day by day, which Bruce didn't know could even be possible, but the man seems to be declining in health every few months. He remembers a hard conversation he had with Leslie over the phone one late night, the woman told him that Dementia and Alzheimer's can lead to death--something he knew that she knew he knew that, he used to visit sick patients with his father when younger after all, and some of those patients had such issues.

But, not once did Bruce ever think that anyone in his family would be one of those patients someday. He feels ill prepared for all this despite living with this harsh reality for about a couple years now, he feels as though he failed Alfred and his family in someway.

Isn't he supposed to be the man with a plan?

And now with Alfred's rapidly declining health, Bruce is just worried that it means his death is all that much closer. How long will his family have with Alfred? How long will he have with Alfred? Bruce sighs loudly and rubs his temples to relieve the pressure, he knows that thinking such things aren't doing any good for him...but someone has to think of the future, right? Someone has to be willing to admit the tough things happening?

Even at your family's expense? They are here for you, Bruce. They are here for Alfred, and yet you constantly bring up his death when it hasn't happened or isn't happening now.

Bruce huffs at his own thoughts...he knows how reasonable that thought is, but at the same time, he just wants to prepare his family for the inevitable...even if they have experience with deaths dealings. He just...doesn't know how or why they continue to live their lives as of nothing is going wrong, it's kind of--Bruce blinks his way out of his thoughts at his phone buzzing, the simmering frustration built inside of him flaring up at what the text says.

Jay-Bird: Clark and Diana are coming over. Is that okay?'

Why didn't they just call me instead?

Bruce narrows his eyes at the text bubbles going in and out. Is Jason trying to find an excuse for them? He doesn't need baby-sitters. He's doing just fine at home with Alfred on his own, he doesn't need people constantly being around him...watching him, giving him pitiful looks-he's fine.

Jay-Bird: They weren't sure if you were busy, didn't wanna bother you just in case. They stopped by to hang out with us before asking if it's fine to head to the Manor, is it okay?

Bruce grits his teeth together. He wants to say no, but at the same time...he...wants their companionship. It's just that he doesn't need them to pity him or feel they have to watch over him all the time...Bruce can't even recall just how many times the two have visited lately, they just always make time for him, maybe cause they feel they need to keep an eye on him?

Bruce isn't blind...he sees the way his friends look at him-sees the way his children stare at him too-not understanding their concern for him. He's fine.

Bruce shakes his head to clear his mind, he wonders what would happen if he says no. They would respect his wishes no doubt...unless they were absolutely convinced they needed to come by that is, but he knows his kids would ask him about it when they come home. So, the only option is to reassure Jason that he is alright by allowing them to come over, just to show the other that he's okay.

It's okay.

Bruce bites his lip while waiting for a response...what if Jason is asking questions about why he took so long? He doesn't want his kids to be burdened by him when there's nothing going on, he just took a little time to respond is all.

The ping of his phone makes Bruce jump in his seat, his eyes choosing to water at the simple texts left for him.

Jay-Bird: 'kay dad. 

Jay-Bird: Love u

I love you too, Jason.

He has never replied so quickly before to something in his life, but despite his own inner turmoil, one thing he's sure about is how much he loves his kids.

Bruce puts his phone down and rubs at his face, he feels like he's experiencing emotional whiplash lately, one second he's angry at himself or something his family did and then the next second the anger is gone. At least he'll be calm enough to tolerate Diana and Clark's presence...he just hopes that seeing them won't rile up the irritation again.

Bruce tries not to sigh too loudly at hearing two pairs of feet shifting around outside of his office, he doesn't want the two to think he's bothered by anything, so he settles for rolling his eyes and quickly rising out of his seat and heading for his closed door, opening it and raising a brow at the two supers when whatever silent conversation they were having is abruptly cut off by his sudden appearance. The sigh he was trying not to release escaping him anyway at the guilty looks on his two friends faces, "What's with the looks? And why are you both standing outside my office like two guilty children?"

"Why do we have to be two guilty children?" Clark frowns down at Bruce, feeling relieved at seeing the scowl turning into something lighter; something amused.

"I heard you shuffling your feet out here...it's what my kids do when they are guilty of something. I've tried to correct little tells like that in them, but they do it more in this house than outside it...unless it's a really bad situation."

Diana smiles kindly, "That's good. It means they act that way cause this house is a home to them, they feel comfortable, though I'm sure you know that already." Her ocean blue eyes carefully take over Bruce's form, noticing how haggard the younger man looks...she could ask him about how he's doing right now and risk upsetting him? Or, she could ask him more about his kids and give him a chance to unwind a bit?

It's obvious which one is her choice.

"Surely all of your kids don't do the same exact things, right?"

Bruce is either too tired to notice Diana's thoughtful distraction or is choosing to ignore it, either way, he doesn't bother putting up much of a fight when the Amazonian links their arms together and leads them slowly to his bedroom and out on his balcony to relax.

"No, they don't always do the same things. They only shuffle their feet when I can't see them, they must think I can't hear them, but I can. Richard tend to play with the back of his hair, there's this one spot that's particularly wavy and textured and I guess the feeling of it soothes him? He's done that since he was a child." Bruce smiles at the memories of a nine-year-old Richard being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to and immediately reaching up and back to fiddle with that once piece of hair. "And Jason, he tends to ball his fists up...I wouldn't doubt that it's because of anger sometimes, but I think his nails digging into his skin grounds him, even when he isn't upset. It's another thing I've tried to help him not do, he hurts himself that way, you know?"

Diana hums softly and nods, resting her chin on both her hands and looking at Bruce as if he's sharing the world's greatest secrets with her.

"Then Tim...he does a lot of stuff actually. But he tends to be a lip biter or tap his index finger against stuff when he's stressed out or lying to me, the only way to get him to stop gnawing at his lip sometimes is to gently grab his face in my hands and remind him to stop. I think he does that so his thoughts don't spill out of his mouth, but I hope he's able to stop thinking I or anyone else don't care to hear his thoughts."

Bruce pauses at the steaming cup of chamomile tea held out to him, his hope rising with the thought of it being Alfred who prepared the tea, but immediately taking notice how smooth the hands are and realizing it's just Clark.

"Thanks..."

The painful heat of the cup feels oddly nice against Bruce's hands, his instincts are telling him to pull his hands away from the painful warmth, but another part of him feels weirdly at peace from the pain. He doesn't wish to make his friends worry though...so he sets the cup down on the table to let it cool before he holds the cup or drinks from it. Clark settles down in the seat next to Bruce after handing Diana her own cup, "What about the rest of your kids? Barbara, Steph, Cass, Damian? What about your cousin? Does she do anything in particular too?"

Bruce nods, once again being distracted by the topic at hand.

"Steph tends to lick her lips a lot, she often uses the excuse that she has dry lips, but I can tell when it's not dry lips. Barbara tends to swallow excessively, something that couldn't be as noticeable to some people, but I'm half convinced she gets a spit overload when attempting to lie. You should have seen her when she was a teenager, it was almost hilarious how easy it was to see her lie, though she's definitely gotten better over the years...something I don't know whether to be proud about or bothered by." Bruce pauses to take a careful sip at his tea, humming at the immediate relieved sensation in his mouth and throat, he didn't realize how thirsty he was until now.

"Cass is an exceptional liar, so is Damian. For Cass though, sometimes I think the only reason I can tell she lies is because somewhere inside herself, she doesn't desire to lie to me, so she purposely gives me signs that she is in the hopes I'll realize and correct her for doing so. I think it was because of her upbringing, certain things she does-even the normal things-she sometimes feels the need to hide it or lie about it out of shame for desiring such things, but then she feels guilty about lying and gives me cues to let me know she's not being honest. She shifts her eyes a lot since speech can be hard for her, or she picks at her nails."

Clark hasn't taken a sip of his drink yet and neither has Diana, the two are too invested in Bruce's gentle voice talking about his children.

"Then Damian, he's such a good boy, he is actually one of the most honest surprisingly. Even when I first met him, if he wanted to take on a mission on his own; he'd tell me, sometimes he'd angrily let me know in advance that he'll try to sneak out, something that he knew I knew...and yet he usually managed to escape me anyway. Over the years though, he's learned to trust me, and just like Cass, he's a good person and doesn't desire to lie to me, especially since I'm his father. But, he also tends to not make eye contact, something that's developed from his time over here, and his lower lip tends to jut out into a pout...something I did when I was small too apparently, anyway, he'll probably grow out of it just as I did."

Clark and Diana quickly look at each other, which one of them is going to tell Bruce he still pouts despite being a grown man?

The two decide against it and allow Bruce to finish, "And my cousin Kate? To be honest, I give out advice when she needs it and that's about it. Maybe it's because she's older than me and also not one of my kids exactly-"

Diana tilts her head, "Exactly?"

Bruce nods, "Exactly. She acts like the kids sometimes...but at the end of the day she insists I don't hover around her or scold her as much as she's not my kid-"

Clark smirks and interrupts with a small snort, "Not exactly that is."

Bruce finds himself smiling at the comment and nodding again in agreement, "Not exactly. However, she's still family and we still look out for each other, if anything, sometimes I think she hovers around me just as much as the kids or Alfred do when she can...she says it's 'older cousin duties' or some crap like that. But, I'd say the tell I remember the most that she still does today is get a little too angry and defensive when you say she's lying, I keep trying to tell her she'd be a near perfect liar if she could get rid of that temper...or the red hair."

Diana chuckles and finally sips at her warm tea, "What does the red hair have to do with her temper?"

Bruce stares at the older woman as if she grew another arm, "Are you serious? We all know having red hair or being short is the cause of fiery tempers in people."

Diana, sweet, sweet, Diana still doesn't understand a lot of regular human jokes or comments and looks completely baffled at the information. The woman making Bruce curious as some sort of understanding shines in her eyes, "Oh! I see. Is that why you and Damian are so angry all the time? Well, maybe not all the time, but you both get easily angered."

Bruce narrows his eyes at Clark for his laughter, his lower lip unknowingly jutting out into the inherited pout. 

"No! Damian is short, but I'm not. I'm tall."

"Says every short person." Clark continues sipping at his tea after whispering to Diana, quickly having to put the glass down after Bruce chucks a pillow at his face.

"You know what, Clark!?"

Said man just laughs louder and holds Bruce's gaze with his own amused one, "I do. And it's that you're short." Clark smirks victoriously when Bruce just huffs and settles back into is seat, his midnight blue eyes drift over to Diana to see her reaction, smiling more when the woman just shakes her head fondly, hiding her smile behind her cup at Bruce turning his glare onto her instead.

It grows silent between the three...but it's a nice kind of silence, even in spite of Bruce's grumbling. The man relishing in the comfort his friends presence bring him, closing his eyes as the wind gently blows and gently caresses his cheek, it's...nice, relaxing in a way Bruce feels he hasn't felt in awhile. He almost doesn't know if he should be thankful for this moment of reprieve or feel guilty, especially when Alfred is getting wor--

"Your kids seem to be doing well."

Bruce opens his eyes and keeps them trained on the foggy sky, humming in response to Diana's whispered admission: "I hope so. How were they tonight? How's everything going?"

"Don't start worrying now, Bruce. Things are well as I said, not just with your kids, but with Gotham...at least for tonight it is. They were all gathered near your favorite gargoyle tonight eating some snacks that you made for them apparently." Bruce's gaze drifts away from the night sky and back down to Diana, looking offended by the disbelief in the other's tone at the thought of him cooking anything. "I grew up with a man who handmade food and was always in the kitchen if he wasn't tidying up my house  AND I trained with a group of monks for who knows how many years in the mountains? Of course I learned how to cook for myself."

Diana throws her hands up at Bruce's defensive tone.

"What's with the tone? All I said is that you made snacks for your kids. I didn't know you made snacks."

Bruce raises his brow, "You emphasized the 'you' when you said it. What, Diana? Do I not look like a man who can make snacks for his kids? Is that what you think, that I'd let my babies starve?"

Diana looks increasingly more amused the more the shorter speakers to her, "No. You wouldn't let anyone starve, not even your worst enemy. I just...didn't know you baked or cooked anything, you've never done it in front of me or Clark before, plus the fact you always have Alfred cook or prep meals...so isn't the logical conclusion that-"

"That I'd let my children starve?"

Diana lets out a giggle at Bruce's dramatics and covers her mouth with her hand to try and dampen her smile.

"No-" she laughs out the word-"I just...you don't look like you'd cook. There, I said it. Is that a crime to say?"

Bruce shakes his head, "Is it because I'm Batman?"

Diana throws her head back with a loud laugh at her friend's conclusion of the matter, her eyes sparkling with adoration for Bruce when she looks back at him. "Isn't everything because you're Batman? But, no. That isn't why. I just didn't think you'd cook because of how often you don't cook, especially when me or Clark are around, you usually take us out to restaurants. Isn't that right, Clark? I'm not alone in thinking he never cooks."

The man looks between Bruce and Diana, his apologetic gaze landing on Bruce.

"I didn't know you cooked either-" Clark chuckles at Bruce's eye roll-"To be fair...I don't think anyone you know inside or outside of the cowl thinks you cook. There are bets in the League and this topic is one of them, seems we owe some people some money, Di."

Diana nods her head in agreement and turns back to Bruce, feeling pleased at how much relaxed he looks now, the fake irritation on his face settling into something serene.

Bruce sighs softly and smirks the tiniest bit, "I understand why people wouldn't think I cook. But I do and I'm very good at it-" a pause-"Though what I don't understand is how we got off topic talking about my kids and there well-being. I don't know how I mange to hold a conversation with you two, feel like we change topic every two seconds." Bruce looks between Clark and Diana, "But, to answer: the type of snacks were cookies. I made three different kinds for them to eat: chocolate chip, peanut butter, and snickerdoodle."

Clark licks his lips and looks at Bruce hopefully.

"Is there any chance that we'll be able to taste your famous cookies?"

"How are my cookies 'famous' when you didn't even know I baked in the first place?" Bruce looks questioningly at Clark and shakes his head. "And sorry, but you won't be able to taste them tonight because my kids took them all. If I didn't pack everything away for them to take, they would have hounded me about it and bugged me until I caved and gave them all the cookies."

Bruce looks back up to the sky and softly hums.

"Topic change again...but I...appreciate you both for coming to check in on me, even when it grates on my nerves sometimes. And for not asking me how I was doing even though I knew how much you wanted to."

Diana and Clark look slightly guilty at having been found out, but they expect nothing less from the World's Greatest Detective.

"I'm not sure I would have answered anyway if one of you asked...I probably would have brought up...my kids...instead." Bruce trails off and looks to Diana in surprise at realizing why she brought up his children in the first place, the woman smiling tenderly at the man and simply nodding her head at him, knowing exactly what he's thinking.

Bruce finds himself relaxing more into his seat, ignoring the tears gathering in his eyes at the thoughtfulness of his friends and family, his mind automatically going back to Alfred and all the ways he's been there for Bruce in his time of need and desperation. He really wished that he could do more for Alfred, but he knows he can't, he knows that all he can do is reluctantly follow Leslie's advice and simply stay with his dad...no matter how much it sucks to watch the man forget. 

Bruce looks down into the remaining tea in his cup, the painful heat from before now a cool sensation in his hands.

"I..."

Diana and Clark immediately look to Bruce at the slight tremble in his voice, both noticing the way his thumb caresses the glass nervously, taking in the way his eyebrows pinch together in thought of what he wants to say. Their friend has never been the best with words, at least when he thinks hard about it that is, but they know whatever Bruce desires to say must be something he's been thinking for a long time, he only ever gets this hesitant when he plans to be really vulnerable.

They know they could urge him on...but in this moment, it's best to let Bruce get himself together as best he can.

.

..

...

....

.....

......

After sitting in silence for a few minutes, Bruce clears his throat, letting Clark and Diana know he's ready now.

"I hate doing nothing. I've already had this conversation with Leslie before in passing-when we first visited the doctor to get Alfred checked out. And I...hate not being able to have a solution, cause to me, having a plan is a sign of structure, and if you don't have one then bad things usually happen-" a shrug-" at least in my life that's what it means. If I have....something-anything, to keep my mind focused on, then I won't be consumed with my thoughts o-or the worry." Bruce frowns and taps his finger on the teacup, "Though I think I fail at that. I end up burdening the people I don't want to burden in the first place, all because I'm sc-" at that, he cuts himself off, his throat tightening up as realization sets in.

Of course...

He's scared.

That's not anything that should be too surprising, especially as he confessed he was scared to Damian awhile ago.

But hearing those words almost slip out of his own mouth in a moment he's thinking relatively clearly, in a moment of peace and stillness with two people he trusts with his life, it hits different.

A gentle hand on his shoulder causes Bruce to look up into the eyes of Clark, the man's smile proud but wobbly as he squeezes his shoulder softly. "You're scared, Bruce. And I hope you know that it's okay to be...I can't imagine what you must be feeling right now, but I know it must be difficult." Bruce waits for the familiar feelings of bitterness and anger to rise up at Clark's gentle words, but it never comes, instead, he feels his eyes warm with the familiar presence of tears and allows them to fall. "I-It's nothing new. I told Damian how scared I was what feels like not too long ago, Clark, so I don't know why I'm-"

Clark waits patiently as Bruce searches for what to say, his heart warming at his best friend leaning his cheek against his hand, seeking out comfort.

"I don't know why it feels...so much in my chest right now."

Clark smiles bittersweetly, his large hand gently wiping Bruce's tears. "That's love, B. You love Alfred a great deal, maybe what's happening is just reminding you of how much you do, that's why it hurts." Something settles in Bruce's chest as Clark says that--acknowledgement perhaps--of his feelings and why he hurts as much as he does recently.

He doesn't bother responding verbally, he just nods and allows more tears to fall, accepting his best friends comfort as Diana closes in on his left side and wraps him in a warm hug.

XXX

It's a week after Bruce had that little heart-to-heart with Clark and Diana, he found himself trying to adjust to the reality of his feelings and why they are so strong, which is why he suggested having a picnic with his family. I mean, what better way to cope than surround yourself with people who love you?

Bruce, however, found himself taking a little detour to his parents graves, having to reassure his children a thousand times that he'll be just fine before slipping off to clear his mind before lunch. Now he's standing at his parents tombstones, staring at the stones as if they offended him-but they haven't-he just is in deep thought about what to say first. "Mom, dad...I...know that I haven't visited lately, but there's so much that's been happening these past few months and year, I sometimes feel as if I'm not even aware for most of it. It...feels as though I'm watching everything through a third person point of view, but I've been trying my hardest to come to terms with everything that's happened and is happening."

Bruce swallows around the lump in his throat, God, he's tired of crying.

A soft breeze blows, carrying the scent of roses from the garden nearby in the air, the wind gently caressing Bruce's face in the same way a mother strokes her child's face.

"You may be wondering what everything is-" a heavy sigh-"I don't think I fully know what everything is right now, but Alfred might be really sick...and I mean really sick, not the kind that one just bounces back from, but the kind where it has you get worse until the inevitable happens." Bruce kneels down between Martha and Thomas, his hands resting on the cold stone for comfort, "I think I've been thinking too much about Alfred-you know? And I know it's not healthy, but I'm tired mom, I'm weary dad. I wish-" Bruce's voice trembles-"I wish that you both were here to help me. You two seemed to always know what to do then, and I know you would know what to do now, cause I-I don't."

Bruce bends his head to rest on his mother's stone while his hand rests on Thomas's, his tears dripping down onto his mother's rock.

"I'm lost and confused, some days I think Alfred might be less confused than me. Which is saying a lot as he's the one suffering with memory loss, but I guess-I guess I'm still that frightened eight-year-old who doesn't know what to do next." Bruce sniffles, his hands trembling and shoulders shaking as he breaks down in front of his parents, "I-I don't w-want my family to die anymore. I don't think my heart c-could take anymore darkness, I just need...Alfred, I need Alfred to get by. I can't lose another dad, I just can't!"

The words are a plea as he says them. Bruce doesn't care if he looks desperate or childish kneeling at his parents grave, he isn't concerned about whether or not he sounds immature begging for his parents guidance-for their love.

He's very much the desperate child that he feels like.

Bruce only has one more parent left, and for Alfred to meet such a fate as the one he's getting fills the man with rage, sadness, despair and uneasiness in a way Bruce didn't even think was possible...not anymore than usual anyway.

The wind blows again, stronger this time, as though it's trying to dry his tears quicker. Bruce squints at the random ray of sunlight that pokes through Gotham's dreary sky and warms his face, he doesn't know whether to be angry or laugh at this cruel joke; when he said he couldn't take anymore darkness, he didn't mean literally. However, the wind carries a different scent this time; forget-me-nots, causing a memory Bruce thought he forgot to come back-

------

"Master Bruce, would you please slow down and be patient." Alfred sighs at the boy and his enthusiasm, though he finds himself humored at the fact the child is so much like his mother when it comes to hobbies she enjoys. "At least allow for me to put on your sunhat lest you go outside and burn." It's as though ice was poured down the four-year-old's back with the way he stiffens up, a worried frown gracing the young boy's face as he turns to look up at his friend.

"Burn? I don't wanna burn, Alfie! Why would the sun do that? We're friends."

Alfred smiles fondly down at his young master, unable to resist squishing the pudgy cheeks as finishes tying the hat strings underneath the child's chin.

"Oh? But you are friends, young sir. The sun doesn't wish to burn you, you know? But your skin doesn't react well to the sunrays for too long, which is why your friend wants you to take the measures to protect yourself from it." Bruce puffs his cheeks out further at Alfred's cheek squishing, his irritation replaced by worry at knowing the sun doesn't mean to hurt him but does. "Then why don't I not wear anything? Wouldn't Mr. Sun feel bad knowing that I'm 'specting to be hurt by him?"

Alfred grabs the gardening tools, freezing for just a moment at Bruce's logic before humming in thought.

"I understand where you are coming from, Master Bruce, but Mr. Sun doesn't feel bad. He knows and understands that everyone is different, which is why he's fine with you wearing your sun hat, he knows that your skin reacts to him differently than someone else who has darker skin. Now, while darker skinned people can still get sunburned, Mr. Sun understands that you're most likely to get burnt easiest because of your light complexion,." Alfred holds out his hand for Bruce to take as he leads the boy outside and to the flower garden, the child looking thoughtful as he processes Alfred's words.

"So...Mr. Sun really won't be mad at me then?"

Alfred smiles down at Bruce, giving him an enamored look, chuckling and shaking his head.  "No, I can assure you that he won't be mad at you. In fact, you've made our friend in the sky very happy by putting on your hat-he says it's very lovely by the way."

Bruce smiles happily and shouts his gratitude to the sun for its compliment, letting go of Alfred's hand when they enter his mother's private garden, rushing over to the roses-as he usually does-to sniff at them. "You think we can pick mommy some roses, Alfie? She likes roses, and this one is very pretty like mama is." His chunky hand gently pats the flower he just sniffed, the butler eyeing the flower approvingly at how full the petals seem to be, his young ward seems to have a natural eye for the best flowers to pick. "I think that flower is absolutely perfect for your mother. Do you want to help me cut it off?"

Bruce nods his head enthusiastically, extending his hands out obediently when Alfred pulls out his gardening gloves, his little brows once again furrowing in worry. "And you're really sure Mrs. Rose doesn't mind us taking her away from her friends?"

Alfred kneels next to Bruce with an amused smile on his lips, it's always the same question from the young boy whenever they come out to pluck or prune the flowers. "I assure you that she doesn't mind. It's not like we take flowers everyday from this garden, and when we do take them away, we are using them for a reason. In fact, our darling friend here is okay with us using her as a gift or decoration." He smiles and holds the boy's small hands around the flower shear, waiting patiently for Bruce to continue this tradition by asking another question, humor bubbling up in his chest as the child does exactly as expected. "You said that about Mr. Sun too! How do you know all that?"

Alfred knocks his head against Bruce's gently, leaning closer into the boy as though he has a secret to share, even though he'll reply with the same response he tells the child every other time he asks this question.

"It's because I can speak to nature-" he finally allows his chuckle to escape at Bruce's shocked gasp, nodding his head to confirm what the young boy is thinking-"It's true, sir! I really can. That's how I know they don't mind us doing these things to them. Mrs. Rose here actually symbolizes passion and love, so to not use her as a sign or gift of the very thing she's made for is like a crime. We must honor her both in life and in death by showing love."

Bruce looks thoughtful before nodding his head, "And to honor her is by giving her to someone out of love."

Alfred nods, "Exactly that. So, I do hope you'll pluck her with me? She's been growing her beautiful petal dress out just for this moment, Bruce, she knew you'd want to gift her to your mother." With all concerns cleared from Bruce's mind, he has a new determination and finally allows Alfred to guide him to the stem of the flower to cut it, an excited shout escaping him when the flower is in his hands. "It's so pretty, Alfie. I think mommy will like it like I did-" Bruce smiles proudly up at Alfred, his gloved hand caressing the rose petals-"Her dress is fluffy too. Maybe you can make mama's favorite food and I can give Mrs. Rose to her?"

Alfred softens at the boy's innocent request, humming in response. "As you wish, Master Bruce. I would be delighted to cook Mrs. Wayne's favorite food." 

Bruce shouts excitedly and gently places his friend into his little basket, whispering his thanks for her hard work growing while "tucking" the flower in. Alfred watches on adoringly before looking over the garden for what plants he needs to propagate before starting on his task, listening out for Bruce as the boy helps water the flowers while talking to them.

Bruce is whispering something to a flower when his attention is caught at seeing a small cluster of pretty blue-purple flowers, a curious sound rising up in his throat at the small things seemingly hiding in a slightly shaded little nook of the garden. Hopping over to the flowers and smiling down at them, he holds out his miniature watering can and tilts it down so the water can rain down on the hideaways. "Why are you hiding? Everyone needs a drink too, including you friends. May I know why you are all alone? You don't have other flower friends to keep you company?"

He crouches into a squat and leans towards the flowers, tongue poking out as he strains his hearing to hopefully hear the voices that Alfred seems to, a small frown appearing when he hears nothing.

"You don't have to be scared. I'm helping Alfie garden, I bet you guys love him, huh? He says that he can hear you speak to him...and I hope that one day I can too." Bruce pauses to listen to the voices and sighs when there's still nothing, he wants to feel frustrated...but he needs to be patient and gentle, they might be scared. "It's fine if you don't wanna speak to me. I hope you all enjoyed the water? If I didn't see you over here, you wouldn't have gotten any! And I don't wanna 'magine what would happen if you never got your sippy's. I'm Bruce Thomas Wayne, I wonder who you are? I've never seen you here before."

Looking closer at the flowers, Bruce feels a bit more relieved to see that they don't seem to grow alone, in fact, they are all pretty piled together in little clumps. So at least they aren't completely alone over here...though they have less friends than his mommy's rose bushes.

"Forget-me-nots, young sir."

Bruce jumps and turns to look at Alfred who is kneeling next to him, the man looking at the tiny plants with a smile.

"Forget-me-nots? I don't 'member planting these here with you or mommy, Alfie." Bruce tilts his head and looks back at the flowers quickly when realizing his phrasing could make them think they aren't welcomed, "Which is fine! There's always room in our garden for more flower friends! But it is more polite to let us know you'll be arriving so we can prepare in advance for your stay."

Alfred sits on the plush grass with a small grunt, leaning onto his hand as the boy reassures the flowers with a small smirk.

"Yes, forget-me-nots. They grow in many kinds of places, but they tend to thrive in moist soils really. Maybe this year's rain brought in a new flower friend? Your mother and I didn't grow these this year, though I think it adds a nice color amongst the red's and pinks your mother tends to gravitate towards, hm? All hidden away in this little nook, they are glad you found them, sir, they were getting thirsty." Alfred smiles wider at Bruce puffing his chest out in pride, giving the younger his undivided attention as soon as the boy turns towards him with a curious look on his face.

"What do these forget-me-nots mean, Alfie? You said that roses mean passion and love, and I 'member you telling me that mommy's Dahlias mean...per-se-ver-ance and stuff, but what do these mean?"

Alfred nods in praise for Bruce sounding the larger words out. "Good job, Master Bruce. And forget-me-nots are a symbol of a few different things as most flowers are: devotion, royalty, true love-but I love these two meanings; remembrance and eternal love. You see, young Master, these flowers are a symbol that you will never forget your loved ones and treasure each and every moment and memory you've spent or shared with them, even when they are gone." He watches as Bruce's eyes shine with wonder at the meaning, following the boy's movements as he gently touches the small flowers and smiles pleased. "Then these flowers must have appeared for me and you, Alfie. They want us to 'member each other forever and ever no matter what."

Alfred didn't mean to let the surprise show on his face as Bruce gently picks a small cluster of the forget-me-nots, turns towards him, and hands him the mini bouquet with a wide smile on his face.

"I'll 'member you and the flowers forever, Alfie. Will you do it too? We can't forget as long as they are here."

Alfred blinks rapidly as his surprised mind processes the young boy's words, gently grabbing the small flowers from the chubby hand while he nods gently. "Of course I will, young sir. I'll never forget you as long as these flowers exist, I promise." He places the small bouquet in his chest pocket, plucking his own bundle and handing it over to Bruce as an official binding of their promise to one another, the four-year-old quickly accepting the gift and cradling it to his chest while glancing back to Alfred with big, hope-filled eyes. "You really promise?"

With a nod and a soft chuckle, Alfred bumps his head gently against Bruce's for the second time that day, uncaring that their sun hats have been knocked backwards.

"You have my word, Bruce. You have my word."

------

Blinking his way out of the memory, Bruce sits in silence to think about everything. He doesn't know if he feels better exactly? But, there is something warm growing in his heart, maybe something more bittersweet? 

With a tired sigh, Bruce slumps further against Martha Wayne's headstone. "Mom...dad...I think-I think I broke our promise-" He doesn't care of the sob that forces it's way out of his throat, he's tired and emotionally full yet drained at the same time, he just wants to cry-"I...I forgot about the forget-me-nots--I forgot about Alfred when I promised him I wouldn't. He's not even gone a-and I broke our promise by forgetting the memories."

Bruce closes his eyes as the wind blows, doing his best to listen to nature...who knows? Maybe this time it will answer him like he hoped as a child.

"Bruce? Is everything alright?"

Alfred's concerned voice startles Bruce, the younger turning quickly to face the older man with wide blue eyes, the concern in him growing at seeing how his dad is alone. "Am I--Alfred! What are you doing alone? Where are the kids?" At Alfred raising his hand, the younger freezes in place, sitting halfway up on his knees while holding onto his mom's stone for support. "I am not a child that has to be watched, thank you very much! And the kids are just fine, no need to get your knickers in a twist about it."

Alfred sighs at seeing the shameful look on his boy's face, walking forward until he's next to Bruce and lowering himself next to him with a loud groan, chuckling as his bones pop and creak.

"I'm not as young as I used to be, hm?" At his son's silence, Alfred frowns. He admits it...he's scared, he feels...different, and not in a good way. Everyday feels as if he's in a haze, as though he is just a wanderer with nowhere to go or no idea where they are at, but, he still has eyes and can see the childrens faces whenever he says something in particular; he can see Bruce's pain whenever the man is staring right at him. "It's okay, Bruce. You're okay."

Bruce's breath hitches at those words, his brows pinching together on distress of the statement.

"It's not okay..."

The response was so quiet that Alfred almost didn't hear it, but after processing what was just said causes the older man to frown. "And why are things not okay? As far as I'm concerned, you are still breathing and so are the kids, if that isn't okay-." Bruce shakes his head, "It's not okay! It's not! Life is stupid and unfair! You shouldn't be-..."  Alfred raises his brow at the immediate tapering off, ignoring how his heart is racing as his child mentions this...thing that they both know and are aware of that's been happening with him lately. "I shouldn't be what? I...don't know what's happening, Bruce, and I don't know what to do." 

Bruce gasps and finally makes eye contact with the older man at his hesitant confession, feeling guilt and shame at the uncertainty in those gunmetal blue eyes.

Of course Alfred has no idea what's going on...Bruce hasn't even told the other he might have dementia yet. 

Bruce rests a hand on Alfred's aged one, waiting for the apology to come out of his mouth only to remain silent, the lump coming back full force in his throat when seeing the small clump of forget-me-nots carefully resting in the older man's front coat pocket. "A-Alfie." His voice trembles and shakes as he whispers the name, the tears flowing down his face like a river as he shivers with chills all of the sudden, when did things get so cold?

The warmth of Alfred's hand against his wet cheek is a welcomed comfort, the only sound around being that of Bruce's sobs echoing through the gravesite, not even the wind giving a gentle whisper.

Bruce doesn't know how long he sat crying, how long he spent gripping tightly onto Alfred's suit jacket in desperation. He doesn't know why he feels overwhelmed by a tiny blue-purple flower...maybe it's because Alfred didn't forget all these years when even he did? Maybe it's because despite all of Alfred's confusion, he still holds fond memories closely to his heart, while Bruce's first instinct is to forget the best and prepare for the worst.

After a few more loud sniffles and choked cries, Bruce quites down enough to listen closely to Alfred's heartbeat. When did he lean into the man's chest?

I guess it doesn't matter.

It feels nice to just simply be with the other, no anxious thoughts left in his exhausted brain, only the thought of how nice the other's heart sounds. It's a bit quick, yeah, but at least it's moving under there and strong; alive.

"What's going on, my boy?"

Alfred brushes his shaky fingers through the black hair, using his left hand to gently rub at Bruce's back and waiting patiently for the younger to collect himself.

"Your flower. It's a forget-me-not. Just reminded me of something I had forgotten a long time ago-" Bruce sits up to stare at the other, his grip still tight around Alfred's suit jacket-"I'm sorry I forgot, Alfie. You...I don't know if you can recall? But, you told me once that these flowers are a symbol that one will never forget their loved ones and treasure each and every moment and memory they spent or shared with them, even when said loved one is gone...a-and I forgot that despite promising you I wouldn't."

Alfred 'ah's' quietly, chuckling softly and gently wiping Bruce's tears, smiling slightly at the younger man's displeased expression from his laughter.

"You silly boy of mine. I admit that I...can't mentally recall such a thing happening-" at Bruce's demeanor growing discouraged, he squeezes the other's pale cheek in the hand still cradling his face-"Stop thinking for one second, please, Bruce. I may not remember it in the ways one usually does, but from the promise we made, it seems as though you kept the promise as well as I. You still, after all these years, remembered such a promise and I-" he plucks one singular forget-me-not from the cluster in his pocket and places it on top of Bruce's hair-"did too. I remember how I felt during that moment...because when I look at this flower, I feel love and affection. Not for the flower itself, but for what I know in the depths of myself is attached to said flower."

Bruce's lip wobbles and he reaches up to grab the flower on his head, looking down at the tiny thing in his now much larger hands, letting himself feel the memories of his youth.

It's odd; the feelings he's getting. 

He feels amazement and joy looking at the plant, something he remembers feeling when he was younger and Alfred told him the meaning of this tiny flower, but he also feels love and deep affection...not for the flower in and of itself, but because of the feelings and person associated with said plant. Bruce hates that his eyes are watering again, but there's something oddly scary-yet extremely calming-about letting himself simply feel and remember the good times.

He guesses that maybe he got so used to the pain, death and darkness that he started to identify with it instead of simply acknowledging it's there and releasing it.

Alfred tilts Bruce's chin back up so that the younger is facing him head on, his smile loving and kind just like all those years ago. "I think that something is wrong with me, Bruce. I don't know what or why it is...but thank you for remembering our promise, thank you for never truly forgetting us. And while I may not know what's going on now...this old man asks that you keep remembering when I can't? That you-that you treasure every memory and feeling that comes with them."

Bruce lets out a weak chuckle at the renewed promise. "I promise I will, Alfie."

This time it's Alfred that looks at Bruce with big, hope filled eyes. "You really promise me?"

Bruce allows the tears to fall at the familiar words repeated right back to him all these years later, nodding his head and squeezing Alfred's hands in his.

"You have my word, dad. You have my word."

XXX

Ever since that day at his parents gravesite, Bruce found it easier to try and remember the good things, cause if nothing else, than because he made a promise to his dad. 

Of course, there were still days that were worse than other's, but for the most part, it felt as though a large weight lifted off of Bruce knowing he still had feelings to remember for him when his mind forgot goodness. Yes, it still hurts to see Alfred slowly deteriorating before his very eyes, forgetting mental images and things he's loved, seeing him forget even the most basic of life skills, but he likes to think he's learned to not only feel and process those heavy emotions, but how to share them with his friends and family.

And now.

Now Bruce stands in the doorway of Alfred's bedroom with watery eyes, watching as each of his children say goodbye to their granddad for the final time, processing the sadness as he watches his babies cry over the man who loved them just as fiercely as Bruce did. Everyone looks at him after they finish their own goodbyes, his body automatically tensing at the attention before he remembers this is his family; people he loves dearly, and that he can loosen himself up...that he can look just as heartbroken as he feels.

Bruce swallows down the tightness in his throat as he approaches Alfred's bedside, lowering himself slowly onto the edge, surprising himself at how he manages to look the dying man in his eyes.

"A-Alfred-" in and out, just as Leslie taught him-"Thank you f-for everything you've done for me...for all of us. When I was in the darkness you came in after me, it didn't matter how dark it was...s-sometimes I think you were even braver than I was." Bruce lets the tears fall freely; unashamedly, grasping Alfred's hand in his own. "I know you don't know what's going on, maybe even unaware of the words I'm saying. B-But I hope that even in these final moments, you know how much I love you? You taught me how to l-live, how to enjoy goodness in my life by you being good to me...sometimes-sometimes I felt like I didn't deserve it."

Bruce sniffles and shakily reaches into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out a small bouquet of forget-me-nots, his smile wobbly as he holds them up in Alfred's line of sight.

"I really, really p-promise that I'll remember you as long as I live, as long as these exist. Y-You taught me that love is a simple thing; something genuine that can never be touched, warped or replaced when it's true-" Bruce feels his calmness crumbling, his shoulders shaking as he releases a loud wail, bending his head onto Alfred's shoulder as he cries for his dad, "I just--I'm gonna miss you and see you in everything, and I thank you for loving someone like me."

Bruce sniffles and sits up to look Alfred in his eyes, it's been so long since he or the family has seen clarity in the gunmetal blue orbs, but to everyone's surprise, the older man slowly looks down at the little flowers almost fondly. He feels frozen in place at the warm gaze being directed towards him, his heart pounding harshly at the small smile the older man gives before whispering. "Love...y-...ou...t-oo." Bruce's eyes widen in shock, his shoulders shaking in a mix of the overwhelming happiness as he laughs and cries harshly.

Something settles inside of Bruce's chest after hearing those words; acceptance.

It seems Alfred never truly forgot after all, his thoughts were just repressed. Bruce kisses his dad on the cheek one last time, his hands running through the very thin hair as his kids surround their grandfather in various colors of forget-me-nots, all promising to never forget him as long as they can love and feel.

Bruce smiles at his dad, surprising himself with how...genuine it feels. "You can go to sleep now, dad. You deserve the rest, we love you."

Alfred looks over his family one final time, a smile gracing his face as his eyes drift closed, his heart full with the love of the people surrounding him and the scent of an everlasting promise carrying him into a restful sleep.

(

"-when deep down he's that eight-year-old boy in a bloody alleyway, the red clinging to his legs and hands like a second skin." I'd like to point out how before that part I stated, "-maybe that's why death clings to him like an insecure child seeking affirmation from an adult or loved one?" I mention that because my intent was to show how Bruce compares death like a clingy child, but then I describe as death (the blood on his clothes and skin) clinging onto the eight-year-old him. 🥲🥲🥲

The part where Bruce admits to Clark and Diana that he's scared is supposed to be the moment he TRULY realizes he's scared. Maybe I don't need to explain it? But I don't know if I wrote it well enough to be understood that while he mentioned he was afraid before, that moment with his friends was a time and space where his mind could actually process his fear.

Okay, now that that's out of the way (I wanted to mention it before I forgot). I want to truly thank anyone and everyone who stops by for this story...I apologize if this is horribly written? I tried to take my time with this (it's been in my drafts since August) as I based this off of my grandma who has dementia.

This story was born out of the constant fretful worrying and sadness I felt at truly realizing my family and I are watching her slowly deteriorate before our eyes. But don't worry! I didn't have Bruce's severe denial about it though (and I'm not shaming anyone who struggles with similar thoughts either, you are loved and seen 💛) XD, I just wanted to write from a mindset of someone who does constantly agonize over the what-ifs of the possible future.

It was also based on my thoughts of wondering how my mom feels watching her mom forgetting everything and such, wondering if her inner self is scared and uncertain about these things as well. Not saying my mom does worry this much, but again, this story was based off of my curious thoughts and basing it off of someone who might be extremely anxious about the future of those they care about.

The situation is sad no doubt...but my optimism and hope shines through as I wrote Bruce slowly coming to terms with things, whereas at the beginning of this story, he was super angry, in denial and anxious. That is just my thought process about it I guess? I admit it's very hard and saddening to witness...especially as said sick person can grow anxious and scared cause they don't remember or know anything, but it's best to live everyday treasuring the memories and feelings you have of one another rather than stressing about tomorrow.

I want to encourage you as my readers to treasure your memories and feelings too ☺️. Even if one day your mind forgets...you ALWAYS remember how you felt, and those feelings are a kind of memory in and of itself, it just doesn't have the mental images to go with it.

The ending made me really sad when writing it 😭. I didn't realize how deeply this story got to me until I wrote Alfred passing on, especially as my own grandma is the grandparent my siblings and I have left-- Anywho! I'm probably sharing TMI, sorry my lovelies.

I hope the medical examination was written okay enough? I made it that way as I wasn't present when my grandma got her scans done and based the results out of my grandma's own, that's why I never went back to mentioning if Alfred has Alzheimer's specifically or anything...cause our grandma still hasn't gotten a very clear diagnosis rn. And I'm sorry if the speed of Alfred getting symptoms is maybe quick or odd? My grandma just kind of quickly declined in her memory after our grandad (her husband) passed, so that's why I also wrote and implied that Bruce thought it was caused from past (most likely undealt with) grief.

Also, I did my best when researching flower language ☺️, I hope I did okay? I chose the ones I really loved best as most flowers have multiple meanings anyway. I know there is more I wanted to say to you all here...but I speak too much as is 😂. Again, any and all who stopped to read are truly treasured, thank you so much!

Oh! Something I wanted to mention is how the ending isn't meant to glamorize Dementia/Alzheimer's (at least I hope it doesn't seem that way?), I just wanted something slightly hopeful and sweet to end on. I also based it off of some people's stories of their loved one having a random moment of lucidity before passing away.

That's truly all I wanted to share, so, thank you for reading my long notes always!

I hope everyone stays safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛💛💛💛)

[frmamnac]

Theory about considering that Marco and Toffee were connected

Do you remember the theory that Marco and Toffee are connected? It is a theory with a lot of negative opinions, but I tried my best to think about it.

Marco and Toffee both have a planned and meticulous personality. I think... their gestures are sometimes similar, I was making comparisons (1-5).

Besides, The following are the ones that appear in Toffee's first appearance episode.

Star's penstand with holes. I think it's similar to the symptoms of victims of Solaria's magic.

Dead End signs, Star and monsters.

A fortune cookie message that Toffee sent to Star says "Love is always the answer".

Toffee sees Star helping Marco.

Toffee say that "You're not the only one who is the victim of magic" to Ludo's gang.

What if these are things that foreshadowing something? When Marco is involved in magic, he often combines with purple things. The monster arm emits purple liquid, Marco's corpse in the closet (with Mewberty Star's hearts) has purple skin, his hands turn purple when he touches Mewberty Star, Princess Turdina wears a purple dress, and the purple cloth he wears has nothing to do with magic, but look at the shape. Doesn't the drape look like a Septarian's tail?

Purple-ish black unicorn stabbed Marco. What if Toffee and unicorn's dark magic (I guess) were related to Marco's monster arm?

Toffee said he knows the future. What if Star, her friends, and monsters are killed by Mina's forces' magic, when Star won't destroy magic? (In fact, most of her friends and monsters were almost killed) Then, What if Mewni was destroyed in the battle between Mina and Eclipsa?

Daron Nefcy said Toffee as Magneto-type villain. Magneto was Professor X's best friend, Marco was Star's best friend. So, if Star fails to destroy the magic, maybe Marco'll shapeshifted to Septarian by unicorn's dark magic and time-traveled to the ancient Mewni. (It may sound silly) Glossaryck may have created a weird time loop. (He had access to the River of Time) so, Toffee could have been Other Marco who come from such bad future timeline.

Toffee may knew that he would be killed as Star's first enemy, so he probably decided to give Star the idea of destroy the magic for change the wrong future, but in the process, probably he entered Realm of Magic and went crazy, and died as like "Toffee" who was in his original timeline. Glossaryck may has seen Marco as Toffee's 14 year old version. When they first met, Glossaryck said he wouldn't let Marco read magic spells book. I feel like he disliked Marco until day that Star rode the bike.

Even if Marco was influenced by evil monster arm, he is not necessarily evil. In this case, Toffee wouldn't kill Comet, but his subordinates would do it at their discretion. Glossaryck's been acting like a pet for a while after Toffee's death, Maybe that was because he felt guilty about making Star killed "Marco".

Well, Marco is just a boy from Earth, but he tried to become a knight because he wanted to get close to Star, the princess of Mewni. Marco's exploits with Toffee's death gave Marco the idea of ​​becoming a knight. I wrote that about Toffee was acting like a knight. And what if Marco's Blood Moon's nightmare warns his fate that he will be killed by Star when he falls in love with her? Toffee lives in Star's past, and Marco lives in Star's future. Star and Marco, who are tied by Curse of Blood Moon, will be bound in weird time loop forever, untill Cleaved canceled bad future.

I don't know why Toffee stole Ludo's castle and his gang. He manipulated Ludo a lot but it also made Buff Frog a Star's friend, it triggered that Star wants Mewni to stop the monster abuse and protect monsters.

I think Toffee's apparent age is 30s. Marco at Neverzone is still child with an adult body. too childish. Star and Toffee's mental age is too far apart, he maybe saw Star as his old best friend. Throughout the show, Star and Toffee barely had a chance to speak. Marco is the type who is into the role he plays, and he is good at hiding his emotions. If he felt responsible for Star's grandma's death, he wouldn't be able to tell the truth. He may have been acting like a crazy, cruel man to Star and her friends on purpose, in order not to kill his childhood. "Surprise" is a word when the Diaz family celebrates Star every day, so it may be a symbol of friendship.

Toffee has existed since he was a teenager. The reason why he was shocked when Marco said, "You're boring" would because he had the time he was able to live as his true self was too short, and he forgot what he was like living as himself. On the other hand, he may have despised his past self who had no power or knowledge to protect the important things. Toffee's last words were probably a warning or mocking to his past self, and were probably the answer to "boring".

"Code name is Sailor V", a spinoff of Sailor Moon came to my mind. The villain in this story was just a common soldier who wanted to become a knight to get closer to the princess of Venus, Minako's previous life. However, after everyone died in the war and the queen of the moon let reborn everyone with magical powers. Even though he was Minako's enemy, he tried to help her grow, but he died when doing fortune-telling that Minako was destined to kill the person she loved. Minako will ended up killing her boyfriend who became an enemy. Daron loves Sailor Moon, and Mina's name is taken from Minako, but Minako looks like Star a bit.

But how can Marco be so dark and conspiratorial?

I think Marco knew very little about monster abuse in Mewni. He would be angry if he knows that, and he will try to protect the monsters from Mewmans as one of the earthlings because he knows Mewmans were earthlings, and would be thoroughly research magic and Mewni's history. And Marco's charisma will be gather the support of Septarians. In order to protect the existence of Star, he may had to keep Butterfly family alive while dealing with the monster's hatred for Butterfly family, and he would have been afraid of losing the support of the monsters.

Marco was once unable to oppose princesses in St. Olga for fear of losing the support of them. Perhaps his harsh environment has made him ruthless. He may have been bound by his past as Septarian and had limited things to do. I think he has reason for hating Glossaryck. Glossaryck made Star's ancestors, the colonists of Earth, into Butterfly family and Mewman.

The reason he wore a suit instead of a general's uniform in front of Star and Marco was because that's the style of Earth politicians, and he wanted things to be resolved by negotiation, not fighting. And he didn't stand in the way of Marco (his past self) going to Blood Moon Ball and getting cursed with Star by curse of Blood Moon.

Unfortunately, Dark magic that Toffee was melting in Realm of Magic will strengthen the desire for revenge. He may have wanted to inactive MHC and Moon because them empower Mina's rebellion. What if the magic and Star's family destroyed his life? What if magic doesn't exist? What if the colonists from Earth, the ancestors of Star, didn't go to Mewni? What if Star was born as an earthling? What if Marco chose Jackie instead of Star? Almost everything he has experienced could give him reason to hate magic.

His purpose in S1 would to protect Star, but in S2 may have changed to save Marco's life from Star. The reason he was so obsessed with his lost finger was probably because it was the only point of contact between his past self and his present self. The motivation in that case will be self-love. Realm of Magic will not kill Star, but there will make her suffer. He may have locked Star there to teach her his suffering, instead of telling her who he is. In my native language Toffee said "bye-bye" to Star. it is the farewell word between Star and Marco. (in English that's "bye") If Marco's destiny is tied to magic, then Star would be right in deciding to destroy magic for Marco.

(I think this has a "you're fired" kind of nuance, but Marco does something like this when comforting his friends. What's interesting to me personally is that Buff Frog will soon be a father to babies.)

Edit:2024/07/17, Fix

[borderlinebrooke-bpd]

The 5 Stages of Abandonment

Whether formed in childhood, or through life experiences, abandonment is something that affects just about everyone, and in different ways.

Understanding what is happening is the first step to coping with and overcoming your individual abandonment "issues."

The following are the #5StagesOfAbandonment:

Note, the stage lengths vary greatly depending on the individual. Some can last weeks, months, or even years..

1. Shattering: This is the first stage that comes as soon as you receive the initial shock of the act itself. (Your lover informs you they are leaving, a loved one passes away, a close friend says they are moving away, etc.) Your sense of identity has been rocked, and with that comes a variation of feelings, like, pain, shock, hopelessness, and panic, to name a few. Suppressed, old feelings, will resurface at this time, triggered by the new similar experience.

Due to feelings of overwhelming despair, suicidal thoughts are very common during this temporary period.

2. Withdrawal: Just like a drug or alcohol withdrawal, you crave the connection you are now missing. You yearn and ache to have it back, fueled by the strong human instinct of attachment. The loss actually temporarily intensifies our need for connection. Redirected correctly, this energy can be life-changing.

Inability to sleep, fatigue, weight changes, and anxiety are common symptoms of this stage.

3. Internalizing: This is the stage that can be very damaging long term, if not addressed correctly. During this stage, there's a tendency to turn the anger towards your partner inward and critique yourself and all the things you "could have done differently." You begin to belittle yourself and end up idealizing the person who abandoned you. You believe them when they say it was your fault and agonize over regrets.

It's most important to maintain your sense of self through this process. Remember, this experience doesn't change who you are as a person.

This is the stage where you begin to develop a whole new sense of self. Make sure it's an accurate one.

4. Rage: This stage won't be the first time you encounter anger, but initially it was useless "victim rage." In the 4th stage, your sense of self is tired of the beat down and is finally ready to fight back. This rage is of the far healthier, empowering kind. Fueled by your natural survival instinct, this rage comes to defend and solidify your new sense of self.

Be mindful not to let it get directed inward, in a sort of "agitated depression" but instead use it to fuel achieving the new life you desire and deserve.

5. Lifting: As your anger helps direct your energy outward, you begin to emerge into this new life with a sense of fullness and freedom. You feel your soul lifting to new heights as you transcend through and grow wiser from your journey through life's lessons.

Everything is as it should be, and everything happens for a reason. One far greater than our minds can currently comprehend.

The first letter of each of the stages spells out S.W.I.R.L. Like the endless swirl of a cyclone, our grief process is never-ending. A continuous cycle of highs and lows. However, with the right mindset and determination, you can make the length of the low points a lot shorter.

These feelings are very normal and completely natural. In fact, absolutely everyone should feel them to some extent, and in their own way. It's an instinctual human (living) need for connection, that evolved with us to ensure our species' survival.

We may not be able to control Mother Nature, but we can control our mindset while Mother Nature runs her course.

Find and embrace your most important connection, to self. It's the connection that will bring you more fulfillment and joy than any other connection in the universe. It will also never abandon you.

-Borderline Brooke

[keithbutgay]

the silly guys (and yes, they're gay :P)

(much info under cut)

okay so main worldbuilding--- i havent actually really thought this through but the idea is that basically its this really unoriginal kinda dystopian-ish world where there was this government created robotic spore, something that would go into your bloodstream through open wounds. the spore would then corrupt your body, and there was no way to stop it.

the idea was to keep it among the higher-ups of the country, using it as a sort of punishment for criminals but after all these victims inevitably re-entered society, questions started getting asked. eventually someone anonymous hacked into the blueprints, the information was released and the spore began spreading, infecting hundreds and hundreds of people.

(and yes, i realised after creating all this that its basically just the plot of wilder girls. do i care enough to change it? not really)

ghost (he/she/they)

-actually the silliest of guys

-gay disaster

-trans guy, would only like to be referred to with masc terminology despite their pronouns

-eye and entire arm had to be amputated after a car accident

-eye was filled with an amber-like substance that hardened over time as a result--- while it was still soft a bug flew inside and became trapped

-shoulder blades and arm became much more veiny and translucent, which is why he always covers his arm

-has a lot of scars on his arm, they show up more on the translucent skin

-constantly changing hair color. because she can

-adhd be upon ye

-asexuality be upon ye

-demiromanticism be upon ye

-is really energetic most of the time, gesticulates a lot while talking, but will sometimes forget about their arm and be confused about why its not moving

-experiences phantom pains in their missing arm, and also experiences chronic pain in their wrist and neck because they got really fucked up in the accident

-really normal about the ocean /lie

-struggles with obsessive-compulsive disorder and severe bipolar 1 disorder, and experiences hallucinations and other symptoms of psychosis because of that

-dont really like people standing on their blind side, which is partially because of their paranoia and partially because they're self-conscious about their arm (and because holding hands)

alright moving on cause i said a fuck ton about them so now its time for smoke

i dont have that much for them sadly

i designed him second which means that he doesnt have that information on him but its okay because i love him

smoke (they/he)

-they're SUCH a guy. like. the most guy. in an agender way

-autism be upon ye

-also a disaster gay

-got into a lot of fights because of where he was brought up and the people they interacted with. this ended in their face getting cut up a bit at a really unfortunate time, and they were infected

-he cant actually fully zip or unzip his face--- instead they can feel their skin being stretched apart constantly

-its because of this that he doesnt talk or smile often because it often hurts to move his face. he will sometimes use asl, but doesnt know that much beyond finger-spelling and they prefer to just listen to other people

-if they do talk, its really quietly and slowly. they really only talk to ghost because they know he wont judge

-anxious boi

-definitely has bpd but no he will not be unpacking that today, thanks, that is getting shoved deep down along with his probable autism, depression, and panic disorder

-also getting shoved down along with his sexuality, he does not have the time or energy to think about that right now

-never really had many friends ever, and its historically been really hard for them to really get along and get close with others so they dont approach people very often

-really normal about space /lie

[magnumdays]

Magnum PI - S05E11 - Hit and Run review

We're back. I guess. It feels strange knowing these are the last ten episodes it seems likely we're getting but judging from just this first one it's going to keep on being one heck of a ride at least for that :P

(Full honestly, something is wrong with my internet so I watched this with like 1 million little lags and annoying loading bits so... may have affected my viewer enjoyment. Also gotta go to bed because I gotta work tomorrow so this is a little short and 5% spell checked...)

Miggy

Wham-bam, thank you, ma'am. It would have been more shocking if we hadn't gotten the "I'm late in the promo" but still, it was fun to explore this for an episode. They didn't touch back on what Juliet said about not being sure if she wanted a baby or not, but from how the discussion went today she seemed to have changed her tune. Would have been good to have addressed. I thought the would with Magnum being incredibly award when she told him. (This was low-key a favorite part of mine because not knowing what to say Magnum is pretty rare.)

Loved that they're keeping the Miggy banter and Thomas Magnum logic going strong even with big life-changing-ish news looming on the horizon.

"Yeah but if you are pregnant you will be more pregnant tomorrow."

"Just like how you said you weren't scared of spiders?"

I think this was a big set-up for how the series is going to end. Which I think is going to be very Mentalist and we kind of needed to have them talk about and want a baby, even if not right now. (Seriously, if the show doesn't end with a Miggy wedding and baby on board I'm going to be annoyed.)

So yeah, I'm glad they had the baby talk and that it leads to Confessions! (have I been watching too much K-drama? Maybe. Yes.)

And is it weird that I cried there with them being all "I love you" at the end? Like I thought, kind of that I'd gone through my mourning process for this both with thinking season 4 was the end and during the past few months knowing season 5b is the last. But apparently, I was wrong. I still have tears left.

Watching this episode just kind of made me realize how much I love this show (all over again) and that I'm going to miss it and my babies sooo much.

TC being sad = sadness

It's was kind of hard to watch our favorite guy going through tough stuff. I feel like the *protect TC at all cost* society will sue someone :P no but I was really thankful things seem to be going in the right direction for him both with emotionally dealing and getting some feeling back!

Rick + Piper...

So Rick's got a new GF? I feel like she gotta have some connection to something bigger. Like she's for sure a spy or something right? Wasn't her being all "that dump never" just too great of a start? I mean Rick is cute and all, but just introducing her as a love interest would be a little frivolous? Though they have done that before with Ethan and Lia.

Anyway, Piper is cute and I can't wait to see what happens with it.

The Case!

I really liked this case, even if it the excitement was somewhat lost because my internet kept lagging. It's pretty classic "hitman decides to save victim" only with a Magnum and Higgins twist. It could have gone a lot of different ways and in a way it felt a little too quick for it to end. (I think this might be another K-drama symptom where most things just keep going throughout the season.) I was hoping/thinking when I heard "boarding school, sick mom" that we'd get a Juliet/kid bonding moment.

I would have liked Mr. Hitman to not have died so unceremoniously. I mean this poor kid, her mom is dead, her dad is dead, her brother just tried to kill her with 2 hitmen and now the guy who saved her (even if he was a hitman to start) dies? I mean come on! Couldn't he have gotten caught and she'd be like "I'll come visit you in jail" or something?

The Jin + Book

Are we going to get more flashbacks of Jin imagining the White Knight with superpowers? Because that was so weirdly hilarious. I was like? What? What? WHAT? Then I totally cracked up.

But yeah, hope we have something more with the TR Bell + White Knight. That kiss back from early season 4 is still one of my faves of theirs (even if it wasn't actually 'them'.)

Next week seems fun! Like, repo a fish? What a strange world, but it sure going to be amusing.

[owlsandwich]

Alphabet Superset - Week 2

B - Betrayal

Again, I am having to post this via my phone as Tumblr's browser version won't let me make posts. No idea why! The "Post" button is just always greyed out.

Anyway, It's week two, and this short story is set a good few hundreds of years before The Mechanics of Magic starts, with characters never seen or heard of in the narrative so far. It's one I've had in my mind for a while, and this event will have some small knock-on effects in book 2 and also if I ever write my epistolary of Ewen's life.

I really love the scene, and I hope you do too!

@teacupsandstarlight :)

***

The coach juddered as it sped along the dark road. Aelricus pressed his fingers into his temples. Every hoofbeat seemed to throb through his head, and he dimmed the magelight floating above him until its light barely showed his thin, pale hands. Even this simple magic proved a strain. It had been a day and a night since he’d last slept. Deep bags hung under his eyes, and his brown hair tumbled loose around his ears.

Those who had been struck by the new illness fell suddenly, and he’d been called from Ademeer’s Palace to various country manors and back again with barely a pause to eat. If he hadn’t used enough magic healing, the rest had been spent fighting his own exhaustion. Only a champion could have done it, and even he was reaching his limit.

“It makes no sense.” Turbert’s words floated through Aelricus’ mind. “Yes, there are diseases that display these symptoms, yet there have been no signs in the general population. Those taken were not in close proximity. In fact, the cases could not be a further distance for us to travel.”

The voice was more an impression of idea than a sound, though the tone held the same staccato as his mentor had demonstrated in life. Emotion flowed from Turbert’s presence; an anxiety that sparked through Aelricus’ own heart.

“There is no proof of malicious intent.”

Aelricus sent the thought back, but he knew Turbert would sense that he didn’t believe it himself. Generations of experience had taught him what to look for, and had it been just one... But what motive was there for these specific victims? What foolish poisoner could think he wouldn’t see the signs? Not after Emeline.

“It won’t be a matter that concerns us much longer.” Aelricus thought bitterly.

Another bump rattled the window shutter despite the passive spells he sensed woven into the wood for strength and soundproofing. He gripped the cushioned bench he sat on as a wave of nausea overtook him.

Not much longer. Then he could rest.

From his cousin’s home, it would be a small matter to acquire a fresh horse. By dawn, he would be among allies. As for the King... By the time King Silvester and the others knew he had gone, it would be too late.

His eyelids drooped. The floating magelight flickered as the onset of sleep stole his concentration, and his dulled senses only picked up the foreign burst of magic a second before it struck.

A bolt of energy slammed into the side of the carriage. Strong enough to blast through any defence, it exploded through the wood. A splinter sliced across his cheek before he could think to generate a shield. Then he was tipping, falling, weightless as the coach swayed to the side. The door hit the dirt, and Aelricus crashed against it. His head cracked against the panel, and he was plunged into darkness.

Panic dripped through the fog of unconsciousness.

“Aelricus! Aelric! You must get up!”

Aelricus groaned. He blinked, but no vision of the carriage swam into view. His limbs screamed in pain as he forced himself up, and he rubbed at his eyes before realising his magelight had died with his loss of focus. He was shaking. Cold. Damp? He plucked at a billowing sleeve that now clung, wet and heavy, to his skin, and sucked in a breath. Not blood. A stagnant smell permeated the confined space. River water. Seeping in through the buckled door beneath him.

As he noticed it, the coach lurched, and he lost his footing once more. Broken wood tore across the palm of his hand as he braced himself. He cried out and instinctively reached for his magic to heal it. The effort made his head spin, but Turbert’s presence flowed in close beside him.

“Leave it,” Turbert ordered. “The water- We need to get out.”

“I can’t!” Aelricus exclaimed out loud. The door was jammed. He barely had the strength to move.

“The other door. Climb! Hurry!”

Aelricus crawled across the carriage. With no light, he had to grope for the handle. Finally, his fingers touched smooth brass. He forced the door up, feet slipping in the slick damp, until finally it swung open. It was only with Turbert’s encouragement that he managed to drag himself free.

They had crashed where the forest met the river. Long grass tangled his clothes as Aelricus pulled himself towards the path. Night insects chirped through the gloom, like screams of warning, deafening in the calm night. He was filthy with sludge. From here, he could see a sharp bend in the road ahead. The sight made him shudder. Had they gone over there, he doubted he’d have had time to escape.

The mud was soft and inviting. Aelricus felt his arms give way, and then he was lying down, gazing towards the upturned, sinking carriage. Broken wheels, like the bones of some long dead creature, jutted out against the gap of sky. The horses were gone. Their harness lay loose on the ground where it had fallen. It seemed a minor curiosity at first; his addled mind unable to comprehend the sight. Then he saw his driver, crumbled and unmoving, against a tree.

No living body could have bent into that shape. Acid burned his throat, and he rolled over to vomit onto the wet grass.

As he did, light illuminated the surrounding space, followed by a familiar voice, deep and smooth.

“I’d have thought you to have a stronger stomach, Aelric.”

“Randall?” Aelricus croaked. It turned into a fit of coughing as he spoke. He gasped for breath, blinking through the bright glow of the magelight to find its source. “I can’t... Help. Please.”

Randall emerged from the trees. A tall man, though surprisingly slight for his voice. He moved silently over the leaf littered road until he was standing close enough that Aelricus had to crane to look at him. His green doublet seemed bleached white by the night, and the ruff of lace at his throat danced in the faint breeze.

This close, Aelricus could feel the weight of magic radiating from him. As strong as his own at full strength, his fellow Champion appeared unconcerned by the circumstances around him.

“So you do live.” Randall spoke as though talking to himself. “Good.”

“We were attacked, Randall. It is only by luck that the carriage didn’t plunge fully into the river. My driver-“

“Yes, my timing could use improvement.” Randall tilted his head, and his eyes seemed like deep pools of darkness as they met Aelricus’ own.

Dread settled into his empty stomach. In his mind, he felt Turbert’s own exclamation.

“No!”

“Where were you going, Aelric?” Randall said.

“I...” Aelricus’ thoughts moved slowly. The story... He couldn’t remember.

“Your cousin!” Turbert spoke urgently in his mind. “She’s expecting us.”

“Do not keep me waiting,” Randall prompted sharply.

“My cousin...” Aelricus replied. “I left a note with Jacob to expect me back in a few days.”

“At least do me the courtesy of honesty,” Randall replied. “Do you truly think I don’t know?”

Another coughing fit stole Aelricus’ voice, but Randall made no offer of assistance. Of course he knew. Of the four Royal Champions, it was Randall who presided over intelligence. A spy. One who tracked his own people. As the coughing subsided, so did his fear. He was too weak. There was nowhere to run.

“I go to seek justice,” Aelricus spat.

Randall narrowed his eyes. “You’re a traitor, Aelric. Of all people, you are his Friend!” He said the word as the title it was.

“And he was supposed to be mine!”

The burst of anger left him dizzy, and Aelricus tried to slow his rapid breaths. “How could he? Emeline-“

“Should have been of no concern to a Champion.”

“She was innocent!”

“As innocent as her conspiring family?” Randall replied. “Your naivety makes you an easy target, my friend, but your affection would have doomed her either way.”

Aelricus paled. The cut on his hand carved a line of burning pain across his palm, but the guilt stung harder. “I would have done nothing,” he whispered. “It was harmless. Sylvester had no need to order her death. He is no king, but a tyrant, and I will have no part in it!”

Randall gave a thin smile. “Perhaps it will comfort you to know the King did not know.”

Aelricus’ mouth fell open.

“We all do our duty,” Randall continued. “Such things are messy and unpleasant. It is my line who spare his heart.”

“You!” Aelricus growled. He tried to force himself to his feet, but his legs slipped out from beneath him. Tears stung at his eyes until his vision blurred. Tubert was speaking to him, but his presence was far away, pushed back by the turbulent emotions that overwhelmed him.

“You are messy, Aelric,” Randall spoke from somewhere above. “A Champion turned traitor. Betraying your own King.”

“I never wanted this...” Aelricus croaked.

“Can you not see that losing you that way would have broken his heart?” Randall crouched down, and Aelricus could hear the steady flow of his breathing. “It is lucky that he never needs to find out.”

Aelricus’ head shot up. “You would let me return?”

“Oh no, you misunderstand. It’s far too late for that.”

Magic flared from Randall as he called his power to the surface.

“You can’t!” Aelricus scrambled back, as though distance would protect him. “I will inform the next in line when they awaken. You cannot hide this.”

Randall paused in his movement. “Ah yes, the potential. We all know it’s most likely to be Jacob. It will grieve you to learn that he has been taken ill. Without you in the palace to tend to him, it is likely he will not survive the night.”

A chill wind sucked any remaining heat from Aelricus’ body. He spoke through the shiver that wracked his frame. “Please, Randall! Were we not children together? If I have destroyed any love you once had for me, then for Silvester’s sake, do not harm Jacob. I swear I will say no word of tonight. I told him nothing of my plans.”

“Be grateful you did not, or you would have further blood on your hands.”

Any emotion faded from Randall’s face. His magic flared once more, choking the cry from Aelricus’ throat as it gripped him.

The last thing he heard was Turbert calling his name. 

[prying-pandora666]

My Azula Diagnosis Analysis Part 8: Identification With the Aggressor

As the master post I wrote was too long, I’ve divided it into parts. Find them all here.

Sick of bad armchair diagnosis for Azula? Me too! So in this thread let’s discuss Azula’s most commonly “diagnosed” illnesses and disorders, and find out what she actually meets the criteria for, if any.

“Identification with the Aggressor is one of the forms of identification conceptualized by psychoanalysis. Specifically, it is a defence mechanism that indicates taking the role of the aggressor and his functional attributes, or imitating his aggressive and behavioral modality when a psychological trauma brings about the hopeless dilemma of being either a victim or an abuser. This theoretical construct is also defined as a process of coping with mental distress or as a particular case of zero-sum game.”

In other words, it’s a coping mechanism to deal with abuse where a victim mimics the abuser’s actions and beliefs to escape being further victimized.

Does Azula display Identification with the Aggressor?

Identification with the Aggressor Claims

—Azula reflects whatever Ozai wants to hear

—Azula is both afraid of and dependent on Ozai and will do terrible things she doesn’t even want to do to stay in his good graces

—Azula would prefer to act like her abuser than be viewed as the victim, even if it means going against her own desires and goals

So Does Azula Demonstrate Identification with the Aggressor?

As always, symptoms can present in a number of ways. People are all different. But diagnostically significant symptoms include:

—Mirroring the Abuser: The most obvious case is with Ozai. Azula parrots his political beliefs and grievances since early childhood, something that makes her come off frightening for such a young child. Interestingly, her manipulative and scheming qualities seem to come from both her parents, as Ursa is the one who came up with the plan to assassinate Azulon to protect Zuko.

—Concealing Vulnerability: Azula’s breakdown is the most dramatic reveal of her hidden internal vulnerability, but it isn’t the only one. In The Beach, Azula deflects from her own emotional wounds with a joke (“My own mother thought I was a monster… She was right, of course, but it still hurt.”), but we later learn how real this trauma was for her. She also conceals how much she cares about others, often couching advice or help behind a veneer of mockery.

—Enmeshment with the Abuser: Azula displays a concerning lack of agency or personal desires outside of Ozai. We never are given any motivations for her that don’t serve Ozai (or occasionally Zuko) except for when she wants to flirt with boys her age. The moment she tries to act on her own desires, her incredible confidence and aptitude vanish. Even then, she attempts to woo Chan by offering the very thing she knows her enmeshed abuser would want: world domination. To tragically disastrous results.

—Kicking the Scapegoat: When desperate to protect herself, Azula will turn on the scapegoat child (Zuko), no matter how much she loves him, hoping to deflect the abuser’s ire to a more acceptable target.

—Deflecting and Transferring the Blame: As confronting the reality that their abuser, whom the victim is both afraid of and desperate to please, is the source of the problem may be too painful or frightening, victims often subconsciously transfer the blame to an easier target. Both Zuko and Azula do this to avoid directing their grievances at their true abuser: Ozai. While Zuko tends to pin the blame for the abuse he suffered on Azula, Azula tends to pin it on Ursa.

Conclusion: Azula does identify with the aggressor.

An interview with the head writer only drives it home even further, where he overtly states that Azula was trapped doing worse and worse things to please Ozai as she had become alienated from her mother and had no one else.

The book 2 novelization also makes it concrete, spelling out Azula’s fears of vulnerability and rejection.

This may also perfectly explain Azula’s reaction to Zuko being burned.

[kitsu-katsu]

Ok, but people who say that dro horrible is bad because Billy is kinda an incel are missing the point

He never knew Penny, he was in love with the idea of her, he didn't have a solid core of beliefs to even fall onto

I very much believe that he did want to change the status quo in some nebulous way and realized the world is shit and attacking a symptom of the problem won't fix it. HOWEVER, he did say a lot of what he said to either impress Penny or to justify his actions as righteous as he was acting out of spite and a thirst for revenge because captain hammer got to actually date Penny

He was eight about hammer being a dick and not good for Penny, but not because of the factual shittiness of hammer, rather just by chance while he said stuff oit of jealousy (and a vendetta against hammer cause he beat him up all the time)

Hammer was not a good person by a long shot either, Penny stayed with him as she hesitated because he got her all she wanted to help people and because he was attractive and seemingly what she should want, while denying herself the fact that she didn't want him. Hammer meanwhile, only did good for attention, got her the shelter to look even better and brag about his goodness on the news again, saw her as "the girl I might have sex with twice this time", he saw her as an object and never got her real objective of helping people because he's just selfish, he just wants attention

Them both being dicks in a sense is part of the point

Penny's the only real good person thoroughly in the whole musical and she's purposely a flat character

When Billy kills her, he's confronted with more of a dilemma. He was the cartoony mad scientist archetype, he never did a murded, that's out of cartoony bad guy logic. He only got the motivation to commit to the murder because of jealousy, hammer beating him was not what got him over the edge, it was taking Penny whom he saw as "rightfully his" (if you need this spelled out: just because hammer was bad towards Penny, this doesn't make Billy's reaction actually righteous either). His plan backfires, he almost gets killed himself for parttaking in basking in glory and getting his name out there for the league, and in the end, the real victim is still Penny. He kills her and he's shellshocked, because he's gotten everything he's ever wanted but it's empty, not because he killed Penny and they actually had a connection, but because he never actually made a connection with anyone, he betrayed what up to that point seemed to be his moral compass and now he's going to move forward because this is supposed to be what he wants, Penny or not, Bad Horse noticed him

It's the fight between his two idealized loves: The girl he barely knows but has idealized in his head and the greates supervillain who is finally seeing him as a worthy asset to his group, if he only becomes more drastic

And the last frame shows us he regrets his decision

His idealized life plan is hollow

He's mourning Penny, even if he never knew her. Her death still affected him

Amd the most tragic victim is Penny. Never seen, objectified, defined by her partner, killed by whom she'd started to see as possibly a friend, and rememberes as what's-her-name

And she was the only one with actually rightful intentions

[grislyintentions]

||Personal Depiction: Aha (HC) ||

It is easy to perceive Aha as an agent of chaos and be distracted/annoyed by their joy-seeking antics but dismissing their capabilities would be a grave mistake. At their core, they are cruel in the same way children are cruel to their playthings and what out of all life would be the most entertaining to subject to the teachings of chaos? Humans.

Aha toys with the extreme emotions of intelligent creatures (love, joy, sadness, sorrow) and delights in subverting/shifting/changing the fate of others (regardless of what happens to them in the end), oftentimes with drastically devastating or different results than how they were supposed to go. They have been shown to hold a lot of influence over the movements of all living things, being able to imperceptibly and delicately manipulate their reality. But is this all a calculative approach to things? Not really. They simply do things on their own whim. [Reference: Making a Noblesse worm an Emanator to see if they can enter the Genius Society then discarding it, playing ‘pranks’ by blowing up an entire planet along with half of Akivili’s Express, interfering with the Simulated Universe and loaning their path’s blessings to those seeking to end the Aeon of Nihility and granting his blessings to the Mourning Actors because they found it ironically funny.]

All in all: Aha’s unpredictability and chaos is only a part of what their path embodies. The true crux lies in causing changes in life, be it minor or massive effects. That is what truly entertains Aha. And even if they were to be killed or defeated one day, they too would find pleasure in the unexpected nature of it all.

Demeanour

Aha’s expression of emotions are exaggerated, extreme and intense. To witness the Aeon is to be subjected to a rollercoaster of unpredictable mood swings and the sensory overload that follows. Prolonged meetings with this Aeon can often result in fainting spells, dizziness, temporary hearing loss, headaches and more.

Those who are blessed with the Elation and subsequently had their blessings stripped from them are likely to fall victim to symptoms of mania (loss of impulse control, aggression without reason, sudden onset paranoia/anxiety, delusions etc) and depressive episodes. In severe cases, it can and will lead to death.

Emanators

While Aha chooses their Emanators willy-nilly, those who are given access to the knowledge and power of his path tend to be capable of inciting large changes by instinctively knowing what, where and how to meddle with things. (One good example, given the theory and implication that Sampo is affiliated with the Masked Fools, would be how he doesn’t directly play a part in Cocolia’s confrontation or Svarog’s conflict with Wildfire. And yet he was somehow always the key to leading to the sequence of events and got to reap the rewards by watching it unfold).

His Emanators excel in their ability to disguise and can even impersonate others. They will be granted the unique understanding and perception that life is but a play and a joke: that there exists an entity (us, the player) out there, watching them go through things impassively. Some wound up losing their minds to existential dread and breakdowns. Others willingly accept that and lose their reservations about going along with what they truly wish to do.

There are, however, elements of risk when it comes to being Aha’s Emanator as well. For while it grants Emanators the power of being able to assimilate, change and disguise, the human psyche really isn’t meant to do so at an extended period of time. It could lead to the gradual diminishing and blurring between realities. As well as the inability to remember who they themselves are.

[tsunflowers]

I started drawing more outfits for kris and luke. I keep thinking about them

kris grew up in a lightly spooky manor house deep in the woods. all the women in her family are psychic mediums for real and people come from far and wide to hear the dead through them. most people with magic get it through the maternal line and every family has a specialty, with some talents appearing only once every few generations. kris is the only living member of her family to specialize in necromancy, physically raising the dead rather than just channeling them. her mom and aunts and grandma all hate it bc it is not marketable. they're not con artists, they really can speak with the dead, but they're businesswomen first and foremost. the people who come to them are Not interested in seeing what kris can do. for most of her teenage years she got put on entertaining the clients' kids duty and learned a lot of sleight of hand magic tricks (many of which she cheats at using blood magic bc if her blood is on something she can call it back to her)

but kris's true passion was always reading necromantic tomes and forbidden spells and raising squirrels in the woods and her family was like STOP!!! so they sent her to spend time with the youngblood family as a diversion and it was the worst mistake they ever made. although it did end with her getting out of their hair so maybe it was good

luke's family moved to the country for him to convalesce bc he's dying of fictional disease that has only the symptoms the writer wants it to. he loves reading but has been losing his eyesight due to this mysterious disease. his mom is old friends with kris's mom so they hatch a plan to keep kris out of trouble by having her come read to luke. they hit it off and started hanging out without being forced but eventually kris started talking about necromancy bc shes crazy for the stuff

luke's condition gets worse but kris's skill at necromancy improves and the topic naturally comes up. does luke want kris to kill him and raise him as a zombie. zombies have excellent night vision so he would be able to see and read again. they don't feel pain and they have enhanced strength. in a lot of ways it would be very cool to be a zombie. there is the problem of being entirely dependent on the person who raised you for continued survival but kris swore a blood oath that she would keep him alive for the rest of her natural life or until he wanted to pass on, and a blood oath from a blood mage is serious business. they really thought they had thought everything through and they hadnt but, young love, you know

kris's specialty returns the soul to the body in the condition it was in at the time of the ritual. since she and luke plan everything together and she's the one to kill him that means his body returns to about 30 seconds after his death at the age of 19 every month when she re-ups the ritual. they did not really consider how this will work out for them in the future but since luke looks like shit he can probably continue to pass for the same age as her into his 30s

they run away and join the circus where kris uses her charisma, sleight of hand skill, and dark magic to wow the crowds. luke as her handsome assistant mostly helps by showing off props and getting cut into pieces before "miraculously" standing up whole again. they put makeup on luke when performing so he looks a little more alive to the audience but I think everyone who spends any amount of time with them realizes that theres something wrong with them. but necromancy is a big taboo and most people wouldn't think of it so they're just like oh there's kris and her gaunt greenish boyfriend with the dead black eyes that don't reflect light

after they get tired of the circus they settle down in a big city with lots of crime and solve those crimes by reanimating the victims and asking them who did it

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

hi hi hi little gayboy please please please elaborate on The Sickness -Sculk

HI SKULK ILY HIIII OK!!!

Context: I'm gathering asks about my Life Series [/Hermitcraft] Fantasy AU (tagged with #kingdoms au)

So the concept of The Sickness comes in several forms, I'll be super happy to explain them cause they rot my brain completely.

Mage Sickness: Magic users who overuse or misuse their magic, or use a lot of dark magic such as necromancy, become corrupted by the magic. Sorcerers are particularly susceptible because of their innate magical ability and general lack of self-control. Mage Sickness is pretty obvious physically, as it takes over the body slowly with a skulk-like disease. The skulk can be removed early on to slow down the process but there is no known cure, only preventative measures like potions. Mage Sickness takes over the mind last, and tends to make the victim swing to using dark magic if they didn't already. It makes dark magic more powerful but comes at the physical and mental cost of the magic user. Anyway this is Scar's entire deal as a Sorcerer. He's had Mage Sickness for ages and he's kind of owning it.

Inherited Sickness: some magic users inherit Mage Sickness from their parents. They are actually more resistant to showing symptoms and less likely to get full-blown Sickness, but it's in their genes and they can pass it on to others if they cast magic upon another person. For example, this is what happened to Bdubs when he was still a student of Life Magic. He didn't know he was carrying the gene and his magic backfired, killing two people and getting himself hurt instead of healing them like he was supposed to.

Mismatching: this is when someone's magic does not match up with their body's physical ability, causing them to basically short-circuit and gain Mage Sickness. For example, if someone gains demonic magic while being in a human or hybrid body, the magic will corrupt them. This is what happened to Doc, as he was turned part-demon and his magic registered as demonic, but his body is still non-demon enough that it hurt him, basically an overload of power. This also spreads like skulk across the body!

Soul Loss: if someone loses their soul (or it is taken from them) they will become corrupted with skulk-type stuff as if they have Mage Sickness. This doesn't kill the affected person but it makes them physically weaker and can alter them mentally. It also makes the user unable to perform magic, if they could before losing their soul.

Spreading Sickness: Mage Sickness can be passed on to other people via magic. For example if an infected person tried to use a healing spell on another, they run the risk of either getting the opposite effect (harming) or infecting them. The Sickness can also be spread willingly, if someone understands their Sickness well enough.

Other effects of long-term Mage Sickness: if you have Mage Sickness for a long time (like Scar) you can adapt to understand it a lot better. It can act as a new sense, as it links you with the world's magic, and eventually you can learn how to not spread it when casting magic on other people. However, it can also cause bodily decay in the long-term and eventually results in death. There has been no record of a cure as of yet.

I hope these tidbits are interesting! I love this au a lot haha.

Asks about the au are welcome and wanted! Check the tag #kingdoms au for everything so far :)