So before I say what I think about Lego Batman, I wanna be a sap for a moment and say that I, a stranger on the internet, made a simple post of saying I’m gonna watch this and it’s just heartwarming to see a bunch of people come up and like cheer me on and are excited for me to see it??? I mean?? You’re all more excited than I was lmao. You guys are the best for real.
ANYWAY, if I have to be honest, I rly initially thought it’d just be a lol movie with a ton of references and brilliant jokes but the plot actually holds up srsly damn. But now I get why that Alfred father’s day post got tagged “Lego Batman” so much cuz HOLY BATCOW HE’S LITERALLY GRAND BATDAD IN A 60s BATSUIT I AM WEEPING. PARENTAL LOCK. EVERYTHING.
ALSO!! DICK IS THE PUREST THING. I AM!! SO SO HAPPY!! My blossoming lil ray of sunshine! My innocent acrobatic darling! He’s excited about having 2 dads, and he also calls Alfred Grandpa!!!! aaaAAAAAA
There’s so much I wanna cry over like Batman and Joker’s….. ship. And Barbara’s badass-ness (I even had her sign a balloon on that father’s art lol). Also the robot? I forgot its name, is so cool being able to hang on and climb onto things like an actual bat.
So, since both the Lego Batman Movie and The Batman (2004) sorta ramped up Alfred’s ‘Britishness’ (”You just got union jacked!” Lol, I need a gif of that asap), I ended up getting this random thought: Do you think Alfred ever uses British terms without thinking and accidentally confuses the Batkids?
“Hmm, It looks like the light to the cellar went out… Well, I’ll have to just get a torch from the Batcave.” *Jason hears this and does a double-take* “Wait, Bruce has torches now? Geez, I know the guy likes to be dramatic but, isn’t that overkill even for him?”
“Oh, Master Dick. While you were out, I went ahead and picked up a couple of new jumpers for you since it’s supposed to be cold tomorrow.” “Thanks Alfred. …Wait, new what?”
“Pennyworth, I thought you said we were having chips as a side for lunch today.” “Those are chips, Master Damian. Or rather, they are to me, at least.” “No they’re- Wait. …Nevermind, I understand now.”
Bruce is the only one who never gets confused, just because he’s grown up hearing all these terms, lol.
Y’know when he grows up I’m thinkin Damian might have some sort of cat daemon…I love the catterpillar symbolism of that post alot but…of course I’m thinking of it in daemon perspective…I’m stuck on cats…….
Feral or Domestic I’m not sure. Maybe one of those domestic cats with strong feral blood, with the spots? Maybe that!
Ivan paces in his room. He’s been doing this for roughly an hour now, grumbling angrily in Russian, occasionally bursting out with some enraged exclamation. On the other side of the locked door, his sisters and the Baltics stand with their ears nervously pressed to the wood. Every shout, every slammed fist makes them flinch.
“S-so, what’s he mad about this time?” Toris asks, voice hushed in case his former boss decides then to acknowledge their eaves-dropping.
Eduard is blessedly calm in his response: “I think it was something Alfred did.”
“The idiot used big brother’s vodka stash as fuel for a fire.“ Natalia, meanwhile, looks downright murderous. “He wanted to put big brother on a quitting plan, despite big brother’s wishes.”
“Shhhh, I think something's happening!” Yekaterina says none-too-quietly.
Indeed, something is happening. Ivan, still taking deep breaths, turns on his phone and opens it to contacts. A dark aura around him, he presses the call button of one particular contact.
The phone rings.
Ivan smiles innocently. "Hello, Alfred.“
"Oh, hey, what’s up?” The American perks up.
“Not much.” His eyes slip closed in content. “Just looking through old knick-knacks. It's funny how many special objects get left in some forgotten box in some forgotten room.”
Alfred laughs awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, I guess I see what you mean? Like, why keep something if it’s just going to sit there and collect dust?”
“I’m very glad you agree with me.” Ivan raises a hand, a lit match delicately held between pointer finger and thumb. Before him is a pile of every last object of Alfred’s that had been left at Ivan’s house, whether mistakenly or purposefully.
“Out with the old and in with the new-”
“Whoah, whoah, can you hold on a minute? I’m killing zombies.”
Alfred scowls, speaking into his headset, “Kiku, I thought you said you were covering me?”
“I am. There are too many.”
“Well, make them stop existing!”
A sigh, “Alfred-kun, I’m trying.”
“Well, try harder!”
“Alfred?” Ivan’s eye twitches.
“Yeah, just give me a few. Kiku! I said to cover me! Don’t shoot me!”
Soft laughter from Kiku’s end.
“… You’re doing this intentionally, aren’t you?” Alfred groans, “Kiku, dude, my main man, quit it.”
Seeing an opening, Ivan cuts in, “You mean like how you’re making me quit vodka?”
“You’re still pissed about that? Sheesh, talk about relentless.”
The dark aura grows.
Alfred lowers his controller, expression deadpanned. “Relationships need to be balanced. I gave up McDonalds, so you have to give up vodka. Deal with it.”
“It took me months to put together that stash!”
“Alfred, I will burn everything you love!”
“What, so you’re going to set yourself on fire?”
Kiku’s heard muttering a “Lol, wut?”
“… Can you repeat that?”
Red-faced, Alfred swallows before starting, “I, um, I said, ‘what, so you’re going to-’”
Ivan throws the phone out the window.
Natalia slams the lock-picked door open. “BIG BROTHER, DID HE JUST-?”
“Harry Potter, Mr. Jones.” And Peter rolled his eyes, pushing his blond bangs up to expose the rather neatly-drawn lightning bolt on his forehead.
Alfred didn’t need to see the scar to believe that the boy was meant to be Harry Potter. In fact, he could see it in the very obvious Hogwarts Uniform and the wand Peter clutched in his little fist, yes, it was apparent enough.
But Lord forgive him for wanting to see that adorable little pout on Peter’s face, or the look of pure annoyance in Peter’s eyes as he informed the dumb adult in front of him, it was precious, really.
It reminded Alfred of the look he strived to pull out of the little boy’s father- A look, and really just any look from those eyes, that sent Alfred’s heart racing.
A look from the man who stood behind Peter with a similar, annoyed, green-eyed gaze, one hand on his hip, the other on Peter’s shoulder.
“You know, Peter, I actually have a wand that has a light-up tip. Call me to remind me the next weekend I go to my parents’ place and I’ll go get it for you.”
“Mr. Jones, you know I don’t have a phone,” Peter said with a giggle.
“Ah, well, you could just give me your dad’s number-”
“It was a good effort.” Arthur Kirkland said with brows that bounced up in tandem with the curve of Alfred’s abashed grin. “But no cigar. Try again later.”
Alfred laughed it off, watching as Peter shot away from Arthur’s side to play fight with Alfred’s own little angel, Amelia.
Alfred was grateful for the fact that she was still so young. Amelia was still obedient, still respectful, and most delightful of all, she still needed a chaperone to take her Trick or Treating, which meant Alfred would spend the next few hours attempting to woo Amelia’s best friend’s father- the man Alfred had been shamelessly in love with since he and Peter moved into the neighborhood a few months ago.
wait, so only jason he sees as a son?? this makes me want a series with jason and damian even more!! just imagine this two idiots having to deal with each other because both are bruce's only sons lol.
“just imagine this two idiots having to deal with each other
because both are bruce’s only sons”
you know anon. This reminded me of this panel:
which pretty much sums up Jason and Damian relationship lol (Batman was talking about Jason and Damian here)
It’s pretty funny how Bruce, Jason and Damian are too similar to each other (and I really want a fanfic with these three having awkward family dinner together with Alfred rolling his eyes in the background :D).
A/N: I hope this somewhat makes up for my small hiatus lol I still have some major school projects coming up so I don’t know when I will have time to write again.
“Remind me again why you are throwing a ball.” Dick grunted as he dodged Wally’s punch. They were sparring in the palace training room. Many of the advisers had originally been shocked when Bruce took up martial arts as part of his daily exercise. They thought it brutal and common, but the young lord had not given in and his main adviser Alfred had not forced him to.
He had continued to fight and to learn many techniques. When he had adopted Dick, he had made sure the boy learned as well. It helped to invite the young Earl of West to visit and train with him. The boys got along really well and they were helping each other gain skills.
“We,” Bruce said in amusement. “Are throwing a ball so that you can find a bride.”
The words caught Dick off guard and Wally managed to land a punch on his torso, knocking the wind out of him. He wheezed and doubled over.
“You alright?” Wally asked, worried that he had injured his friend. Dick nodded as he sat on a nearby bench.
“Why do I have to find a bride?” He asked once he could breathe comfortably. “You never married.”
Bruce sighed as he sat on the bench next to the boy he had raised. “I want what’s best for you, Dick. My advisors want me to force you to marry some duchess or lady that you have said maybe three words to. There is no way they will let you grow up and take my place unless you are married first and I would prefer that you love your wife.”
“So you are throwing this ball in the hopes that I meet a girl I like well enough to spend the rest of my life with.” Dick asked thoughtfully.
“So what happens if I don’t meet her that night?” Dick asked.
Bruce sighed and combed his fingers through his son’s sweaty locks in the hopes of taming them. “Then we’ll throw another. And another. Right up until the day I die.” Bruce teased. Dick smiled and wrapped his arms around Bruce. He smelled awful and his sweat was seeping through both of their clothes, but Bruce couldn’t be bothered to care.
“Thanks, Bruce.” Dick said as he jumped up and strode across the mat to the training hoops hanging from the ceiling.
“Do me a favor, Richard.” Bruce called out. Dick stopped and looked at him in question.
“Take a bath before the ball.” Bruce said with a slight frown. “You smell like a dead animal.”
Dick lifted the fabric of his shirt to his nose and winced. “Will do.”
He watched as Bruce left the room before walking up to the rings. He grasped the rings and lifted himself into the air.
“So how are feeling about this whole thing?” Wally asked as he watched his best friend move through a series of complicated moves. Dick thought about it as he finished his short routine.
“I’m not sure.” Dick panted as he dropped back to the mat. “I understand why I have to do this and part of me wants it to work out, but another part of me is…” He trailed off, unable to find the word he was looking for.
“Scared? Intimidated?” Wally supplied.
“Nervous, I think.” Dick said uncertainly. “When I think of marriage, I think of my parents. My birth parents, that is.” Wally nodded as he waited for Dick to continue.
“They were so in love. I can remember the way they used to talk to each other, the way their eyes would light up when they looked at each other, the way my dad treated my mom so tenderly.” Dick’s eyes were soft as he closed his eyes and thought of his parents. They had been poor, but they were happy. His parents had been desperately in love and that made their small home seem like a castle. Sure, there had been hardships, but everyone has troubles in life. Dick’s had been the day his parents both died. He guess he was lucky that Bruce, Lord Wayne to him at that point, had been passing through that day and seen him crying. He could have taken him to an orphanage or thrown some coins his way, but instead the man had taken him in, made Dick his son and for that he would be eternally grateful. Dick sighed. “I don’t want to marry unless I am as in love as my dad was with my mom.”
“Well,” Wally said quietly. “Looks like I better learn to get good at dancing because we are going to have a shit ton of balls before you finally make up your mind.”
Dick huffed and threw a towel at him. “Don’t complain. You might meet someone you like.”
“And with my luck, she will be someone who likes you better.” Wally muttered as he used the towel to wipe the sweat off his neck.
Dick smiled as he walked out of the training room and into the bathroom. He could feel a spark of hope light in his heart. Maybe the ball was going to be fun after all.
there was a headcanon about the bat girls with dresses, so how do the batboys wear suits (and don't say Jason doesn't like to wear them)
I assume you’re referring to @giganticfrenchtoast‘s amazing headcanon, which I adore and would be absolutely happy to continue with the boys even though I know literally nothing about suits.
Dick Grayson wears his suit like a classic British spy, and has done since the age of nine… he was destined to work for Spyral. He usually wears a classic, black tuxedo and bow-tie, with the jacket buttoned up to show the deep “V” of his white shirt; but often he’ll undo it to perform acrobatic manoeuvres as a means of getting to the punch bowl. The sight of Dick Grayson with his jacket undone, bowtie hanging loosely around his neck as he leans down to whisper to a beautiful red-head in a stunning high-neck dress, smiling coyly from behind her glasses, is very common.
Jason Todd doesn’t just “not like” to wear suits… he hates wearing suits. As a boy entering the glitzy extravagance of billionaire Bruce Wayne’s galas, suits and fancy dresses always represented exactly the kind of stuck-up, haughtiness of Gotham socialites that he had learned to despise. But Alfred insisted. And when Alfred insists, you don’t say no. So wearing suits became a habit, as did stepping outside to escape from the crowds into the cool night air. He would strip himself of his jacket with a scowl, tugging his tie loose and unbuttoning his cuffs as he leaned over the balcony and looked up to the stars in silence, breathing them in, allowing the buzz of the crowd to fade away into the back of his mind. These days you can still find him with his jacket slung over his shoulder, laughing as Tim chokes on a glass of champagne he thought was water.
Tim Drake can be a bit of a snob, we all know this. He was born into a well-off family and got excited at seeing a rare Erte statue in the Manor the first time he visited. But we also all know that Tim does not have a fashion-conscious bone in his body. Luckily for him, his parents and Bruce (and Alfred of course) ensured that he knew how to properly wear a suit for formal occasions, and it tends to be the one item of clothing he “gets”. Tim usually goes for nice Italian suit brands, but has been known to choose ties that are either ugly or completely clash with his suit. Nobody knows whether he does it as a joke, or if he honestly thinks a psychedelic orange and green paisley tie would go with a classic blue Brioni (it is the latter), but Alfred prioritises catching him on the stairs and switching his tie before the press can snap any photos.
Damian Wayne would honestly rather be in his Robin suit, but the older he grows the more he finds that suits have at least one beneficial use: helping him to appear older and taller than he is. He took advantage of this and chose styles that optimised the effect such as going for a three-piece suit, and styling his hair a certain way (he wouldn’t let Alfred or Bruce help him because he wasn’t a child). In the early days, Damian was all scowls, stiff and tense and hating every second he was there, but he would always secretly watch his father’s mannerisms and movements and copy them as best he could. It was honestly adorable to watch. These days, you’ll be more likely to see him stuffing canapés in his mouth in response to a dare, the crumbs getting all over his tailored suit, or hanging around Cass, Duke, or whichever sibling he happens to be getting along with at the time.
Duke Thomas doesn’t know the first thing about suits, and honestly has more important things to worry about (like does “Jedi” in the new Star Wars’ film title mean singular or plural?!) but he kind of enjoys taking a break from reality and wearing a suit. It makes him feel like a secret agent, as he put it once, and Dick leaned over to his ear whispered “I have contacts”, winked at him, then tossed back a glass of champagne… (he regretted it the next morning.) After the novelty of fancy, expensive suits wears off, Duke ends up making the suit more casual by swapping out dress shoes for sneakers, or accidentally “forgetting” his tie. But as Alfred puts it with a sigh “the family no longer has a reputation to salvage, so you may wear whatever you deem fit, Master Duke.”
In conclusion, Alfred deserves a very long holiday.
downloaded Tinder because he was feeling sad and lonely. That drove
him to do a lot of things, actually, but that was an issue he was not
willing to deal with just yet. The point was he was 23 and he had
never been in a real
He was starting to get desperate.
Tourist!Alfred and Student!Ivan in the city of Moscow
Alfred F. Jones – doesn’t know any Russian; a young adult
who decided to take a trip to Europe after being fired for the first time.
“Y’know what, fuck this. I’ve been working my
ass from the day I graduated and it’s time for a ‘me’ time.” - Alfred F. Jones, 2017
Ivan Braginsky – a Russian college student** who’s kinda bored with
his monotonous life. Crime scenes? Accidents? Chaotic shenanigans? Lol, that’s
normal in Russia, what’s new? One day, he took Alfred for a tour because why the fuck not. This foreigner is
обаятельна af (too bad he couldn’t understand him.)
*Ivan is a freshman; a closeted horny teenager; yes he’s younger
They’re having the time of their lives. *insert awesome montage of them in Moscow here*
…and then they fuck while muttering things they don’t
understand, and that’s okay.**
**Yep, this is actually smut. (Because the first thing I actually thought of is, what if they fuck while they don’t understand each other?)
Well, it kinda adds up to the mood because somehow they’re
turned on by each other’s languages.
“я никогда не думал, что английский может быть
сексуальным” - Иван Брагинский, 2017
Now this is what I want to see! Slowly converting the fandom to RusEng, one drawing at a time! >:)
I actually have another Cardverse comic in the works, but it’s really long so it’ll probably take me three million years to finish, ha. You mentioned you like USUK, so hopefully this will tide you over until then:
remember when I said I wasn’t going to post fic to tumblr anymore lol yeah me neither let’s pretend that didn’t happen ANYWAY HAVE SOME SLEEPING BEAUTY SHEITH
title courtesy of alfred lord tennyson
Autumn, pt 1
The air was sweet with a few late roses, and the afternoon was softly warm, like a well-worn quilt. Keith crouched in the space where the hedges were thinnest, bare feet tucked under him, leaves and flowers caught in his tangled hair, three ladybugs crawling lazily across his shirt sleeves. The little cottage at the eastern edge of the forest was aglow in the afternoon sunlight, thatched roof glinting gold, glass shutters twinkling silver, thrown open to the pleasant air.
But Keith was watching the garden swing, creaking wood and iron with a trellis of climbing roses, only a few blooms clinging to life in the lingering remains of summer before the frosts set in. It sat near the plum tree that shaded a corner of the kitchen garden, ripe now with early squash and the leafy tops of root vegetables. From this space in the hedge, Keith could see the garden, the woodpile and chopping block, and the swing, where a boy was sitting now, one knee drawn up, a bit of wood and a carving knife in his hands, humming an idle tune.
He was older than Keith, taller, broader in the shoulders, his voice deep when he spoke; his eyes were dark and so was his hair, cropped close to his head except for the tuft of white in the front, and his name was Shiro. Keith knew this because the three women who lived in the cottage called for him with that name, asking him to cut more wood or bring in some radishes or come inside for dinner.
One of the five pixies who followed Keith at all times buzzed in his ear, and he absently swatted at it—the blue one, as the glow in his peripheral vision confirmed. They didn’t like it when he strayed this close to the edge of the forest, scolding him in quiet chirps and tugging at the laces of his tunic, but Keith was accustomed to ignoring them. And he had an important mission this time, a small treasure clutched securely in one hand. He just had to wait.