#posts that are like. for alf.

[the-everqueen]

re: cocoposting, you might be like, "horse, isn't foucault's 'care of the self' about classical attitudes around (homo)sexuality?" and you're right, it's not about america at all, except i've done a LOT of early american history shit (happens when you write a diss chapter on 'hamilton') and foucault weirdly clarified for me how 18th c anglos understood sex/relationships as this extension of their understanding of what "republics" signified and the rights of the (State-sanctioned/legible) Human

[royalnavyart]

♰ ⋅⋆ ─── Comic Log 004 ─── ⋆⋅ ♰

Uhtred: You offered to trade what??

Alfred: Uhtred, let's not fight. Not now.

/jk that’s not the actual dialogue i have planned for this panel … but hell maybe it should be ( ‾̀◡‾́)✨

[theaterferret]

Iguana jumpscare

AWWW OMG?? hello little feller... are. are you francious's. did that kid bring home another creature.

..Okay sure we can play fetch lil guy

[ghostzzy]

what if i become a paralegal

[vee-vee-the-starchild]

I'll be upfront and say it...

There needs to be more Alf x Reader fanfiction...

[lukesalbumawheneverhefeelslikeit]

3642: "The Demo" by - ALF

[wiklm]

hi guys omg i have ocs!!! i have more but these are the ones i’m the most mentally ill about

introducing finnick (white hair!! my oc), alf (black hair w/ purple streaks!! close friend’s oc ) and aadhira (purple hair!! my oc + finnicks niece!!) the close friend and i share joint custody of all three of them. they are my sillies and i adore them so i’m here is all of the art i’ve made of them in the last couple months that i deem worthy of tumblr.com

they go in order from most recent to oldest!!!

[hershelwidget]

i just watched some Reba (the tv show) and there was an episode where one of the kids (Kyra) is going to move out to live with her dad (Brock) and mama Reba was in the attic with her son in law (Van) and

AND THERES A SOFT HEARTWRENCHING MOMENT WHERE REBA SUDDENLY BURSTS INTO TEARS AND HUGS VAN (which was built up from her refusing to hug him the past few episodes!!!) AND SHES JUST LIKE “PLEASE DONT LET MY LITTLE GIRL LEAVE” AND YOUR HONOUR IM CRYING

anyways erm remembered how much I love my mama :) fun fact she saw me crying while we saw this scene and teased me about it but I know DAMN WELL she was crying too don’t even lie mama

[littleapocalypsekitten]

I want to know what kinds of dishes, like what Hatian food is like. I've never tried it. I remember seeing Anthony Bourdain covering it once, but cannot remember specific dishes.

PLEASE REBLOG

[royalnavyart]

... Our prayers are not being answered ...

[james-harmony]

I refuse to belive anyone anyone actually liked Alf

[starry-bi-sky]

Oh for sure! Although it'd probably sound something like "Buss" since z is one of those consonants that's difficult for toddlers to say until they're older, which is like, a triple whammy for Bruce because Danny is TRYING to say Buzz and its just not coming out right, and its so cute hearing little kids try and say words. I'm imagining him saying "Beebee" too as some alternative to 'busy bee'/'bumblebee' which are two of the other nicknames i came up for him in WTNS, and Bruce is just. Dying over here guys. He's cried like three times.

Me 🤝 You Giving bby BB danny flare-ups

I was thinking of that while I was writing the tags too!! And I know it's a rhetorical question but it is SO hard to watch one of the babies in the infant room crying and screaming and nothing will calm them down, even if its for unrelated poison reasons. It's incredibly stressful but also just distressing to watch coz you wanna help but nothing works.

I absolutely think that, if de-aged Danny is physically, developmentally his age even if he has his memories, his pain tolerance and emotional control would be all over the place. Plus his pre-existing trauma too.

Lil Danny going through a flare-up would be inconsolable. Alternating between curling up into a ball on the floor wailing, and kicking around, trying to do something to distract himself from the pain.

And that's if he's not latched onto Bruce, absolutely refusing to let go and holding onto him tight enough that Bruce can feel his little nails digging into his skin. His face pushed into Bruce's shoulder or chest and rubbing his tears into his shirt.

There's this thing that infants and younger toddlers do where they cry so hard that they forget to breathe, and you gotta lightly shock em back into breathing again. Which is just lightly blowing air in their face or going "breathe" at them or touching them. But this would happen a lot with Danny, especially since, if he's having flare-ups, he'd have the same weak constitution as his older self, and his lungs would be weaker. Bruce very quickly has to learn that trick to remind him to breathe.

There'd be a lot of harsh coughing and gasping in between his crying, maybe even crying to the point of throwing up. Maybe, if he even has the air or thought to, wailing "maamaaa/daadaa" or even "baa/babaa" which would be him trying to yell for Bruce. There's not much Bruce would be able to do unfortunately other than wait for the flare-up to pass.

Afterwards? Danny just passes out, completely exhausted and his breathing all torn up and ragged.

no thoughts head empty de-aged blood blossom danny

if ONLY because i was at work yesterday out in the play yard and one of the babies from the one year old room walked up to me, held up her arms and went "up. up" and i caved like a wet fucken nOODLE and im inflicting that onto Bruce

so im just picturing like, roughly 18mo Danny, just absolutely teeny, walking up to Bruce in the Batman suit, grabbing his cape and pulling on it to get his attention or plastering himself to the side of his legs (<- real experience i've had) and when Bruce looks down at him Danny just goes "Bah-man, bah-man. Up."

and im teLLING YOU. Bruce would cave in a fucking heartbeat.

or if he crouches down, Danny will just crawl onto him anyways. wraps both arms around his neck and tries to raise his leg over his knee so he can wrap himself around his waist (<- ALSO A REAL EXPERIENCE I'VE HAD)

also he can't fully articulate himself yet, he doesn't have all of his teeth quite yet and phonetics are harD, so he can't say Bruce it just sounds like "boo" or "booce" like 'boost' but without the 't'.

[junipersenvelope]

Sunday Morning

Alfie Buttle x Reader

Summary: A rainy Sunday Morning in the life of you and Alfie. Inspired by/based on the lyrics of Sunday Morning by Maroon 5.

Warnings: disgusting fluff (aka possible cringe warning), inaccurate AB dialogue??

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: hello ukyt tumblr!! my name is em and im soo excited to be writing for the ukyt scene. i have been watching creators like the sidemen and willne since 2017 (you can find a few posts of me rooting for will to hit 1mil on this account lol) but have never ventured into writing for this fandom. i haven’t written in 3 years so any feedback is absolutely welcomed. my requests are open as well if you enjoy this work! sorry for yapping, onto the one-shot. happy reading!

Sunday morning, rain is falling

Steal some covers, share some skin

Rain pattered against the windows in Alfie’s bedroom, the room seeming darker than usual with the gray skies. A thunderstorm had woken you up in the early hours of the morning, but Alfie slept through it. He could sleep through anything, even his alarms. One morning before a shoot his series of alarms went off around 10 times before you nearly resorted to smacking him with a pillow to get him up.

Eventually, thunder cracked just loud enough for Alfie to stir next to you. You sat up on your elbow, leaning closer to him just to admire his restful face. You quickly decided you were bored waiting up for him so you placed a gentle hand on his cheek, tenderly dragging your thumb back and forth to coax him out of his sleep. This caused his long eyelashes to flutter against his cheeks, trying to fight to stay asleep. His hazel eyes cracked open, meeting yours as a soft smile grew on his tired face.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you whispered, leaning over to place a soft kiss to his other cheek.

“Good morning, love,” Alfie yawned, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand that was still on his face.

Noticing you had shimmied out of the covers in the night, he threw them back over you. In one fell swoop he grabbed your waist and pulled you flush to his side. Your leg rested comfortably over his waist, wanting to be as close to him as possible. His hand came up to your arm, fingers drawing slow circles as his lips came to your forehead.

But things just get so crazy

Living life gets hard to do

“I never wanna leave this bed,” he sighed, feeling content and relaxed with your body intertwined with his.

Since spring had transitioned to summer, Alfie had been so busy with brand trips, podcast shoots, and other videos that he hadn’t had much time to relax. Now that he was finally back at the grotto, he wanted to take full advantage of being able to do nothing, and especially being able to do nothing with you.

“Good thing you’ve got fuck all to do for the next week or so,” you giggled, squeezing your arms around his torso gently.

Your fingers tenderly caressed his soft skin, sending shivers down his spine. Just when he looked like he was about to fall back asleep, his stomach rumbled.

“You hungry, Alf?” You mocked, chuckling at the noise.

“Yeah, I am,” he exhaled with a small laugh. “And we’ve got about 1 egg and a monster in the fridge. Gonna have to ration like it’s war.”

Driving slow on Sunday morning

Eventually the two of you found yourselves out of bed, getting ready to head to the store for breakfast. You walked to the car, reaching for the passenger door handle, before a large hand beat you to it. You turned to look up at Alfie with a pleased grin.

“Feeling romantic today huh?” You teased as he opened the door.

You slid into the passenger seat allowing him to move into the door frame. He placed his hands on either side of your hips on the seat and leaned in close.

“Y’know I know how to treat my lady. Come on,” he winked, before leaning down to press a tender kiss onto your lips.

You shook your head at him before he moved away from your side and around the car to the drivers side, getting in quickly. The rain still poured, though it had lightened significantly from the storm earlier in the morning.

“Put a good tune on, love. Make it a movie y’know,” Alfie said in his classic joking voice, motioning to his phone on the middle console.

You scrolled Spotify before landing on Sunday Morning by Maroon 5. He seemed to like your pick by the way he began to sing along, his voice gradually getting louder as the song progressed. Driving with Alfie never lacked entertainment, as he always put on a grand performance to his playlist, singing his heart out to every tune.

He began to drive out of his small neighborhood, heading into town. His hand migrated into your lap, resting on your thigh. His fingers tapped along to the song gently, comforting you as you further settled into the car seat. Your hands got bored however, so you grabbed the hand holding your thigh and gave it a tight squeeze. Your other hand began to soothingly scratch at his forearm and he squeezed your hand three times.

The drive continued, rain still pelting down. You watched the town go by, including the grocery store.

“Uh Alf? You in there? We just passed the shop,” you inquired, wondering why he blew right past your destination.

“I’ve got something else in mind. Gonna be a great little motive, trust,” he said, looking over to you quickly with a small smile.

Before you knew it, you were pulling into a diner that you had been wanting to try. An appreciative smile pulled at your lips as you turned to look at Alfie, but he had already parked and hopped out to grab your door. He opened it with a grin, holding a hand out for you to grab.

“M’lady,” he joked, helping you out of the car.

As you sat in the quaint restaurant, you noticed the weather began to clear up. It seemed to know that your lazy Sunday was turning into something more. Alfie grabbed your hand over the table, intertwining his fingers with yours as he told you stories from all of the trips he went on.

“Only downfall was how far we were from Monaco, really. Like we weren’t properly in Nice or Monaco which was quite annoying. But other than that it was beautiful. Just wish you could’ve been there.”

He detailed his drunken adventures with Chip and Arthur in Monaco, his podcast experience with Arthur and Bach, and his most recent trip to Germany. He held your hand through each story, brushing his thumb back and forth across your knuckles, playing with your fingers, and squeezing gently during the most exciting parts of each.

Your breakfast eventually wrapped up and you began to head back. You stopped at the store for groceries, happy that you got to stock up on all of Alfie’s favorites, because it meant he would be home with you for a while.

Fingers trace your every outline,

Paint a picture with my hands

When you returned to the grotto, you began to put groceries away. You slotted the eggs in the fridge, snacks in the cupboard, and replenished his monster stash.

Just as you closed the fridge, you felt him walk up behind you. His arms snaked around your waist, and his chest was warm and familiar against your back. You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder, your chin up and eyes closed. You wanted to soak in this moment with him, quiet and close, appreciating the slowness of the day within such a chaotic life. Alfie’s hands ran up your sides and onto your arms, applying a soothing amount of pressure. Once his hands reached your shoulders he delicately turned your body to face him. From there, his hands moved to your cheeks, holding your face like it was an ancient artifact.

“Can’t express enough how happy I am to have you here with me. Genuinely. I don’t think I could do it if everytime I came home you weren’t here to be with me. To understand me,” he confessed, bearing his heart to you in a way he didn’t often do.

And then, before you could respond, he kissed you. Soft, but deliberate, his lips molding perfectly to yours, like you were made exactly for each other. It said everything he had just vocalized, and everything he wanted to but didn’t quite know how. It said that he loved you, he missed you, and he was grateful for how easy time spent with you was. This kiss wasn’t desperate, wasn’t trying to escalate into something heated. It was innocent and happy. It was there to remind him you were real and that he didn’t have to worry about losing you.

And he knew no matter where his career took him—out of town, the country, or continent—he would always find a way to bring himself back home to you.

[brazilian-girl02]

~ Vlogger!Reader and Future yandere!Batfamily Part: 2 ~

Warning: This is where some yandere stuff shows up.

🦇 It was another normal day at Wayne Manor. Tim was walking to the kitchen to get one, or maybe the fourth, cup of coffee;

🦇 He arrived in the kitchen and noticed the absence of the butler Alfred, as well as an old notebook on top of the kitchen island. curious, he turns on the notebook and an email addressed to Alfred appears on the screen;

-dear Alf... It's been two years since we've seen each other in person, two years since our last book club meeting and without your wonderful tea. I came here to say that everything is going well with my studies and I am adapting well in (city of your choice). and I continue to post my videos, I know you watch them, but anyway, I hope you come visit me one day. a big hug, {You}

🦇 Tim read the email again and again.... "who are {you}?" he asked himself as he went to his room. Once there he started going through the files and even found his college's files;

🦇 Tim was so immersed in taking in every piece of information that he didn't notice that someone was at the door watching him;

🦇 it was Bruce... they started talking and Tim asked incessant questions about you, but Bruce had no answer. soon Alfred appears, he accompanies Tim to your old room, with a mournful Bruce behind;

🦇 When they got to their old room, the walls were your favorite color but in a more worn tone and an old computer on the desk. Tim quickly stops the computer to search it;

🦇 while Bruce looked around the room in a daze, how he forgot about you, and soon he started searching the closet and with an Alfred watching;

🦇 At dinner, Tim was very focused on watching his videos, which he discovered by searching the room's computer. Dick asked him what he was watching and Tim started pouring information about you, sparking curiosity in the others, except Alfred;

🦇 Dick started watching all the videos almost religiously and he always comments on all the videos. If you have a public mailbox on your social network, it will certainly send Nightwing merchandise;

🦇Jason, I would read any book you recommended or appear reading in a photo or video... perhaps you noticed that classic books and a box set of Jane Austen's works mysteriously appeared in your apartment;

🦇Tim has scoured every corner of the Internet looking for information about you, from your Amazon account to an old social media account you no longer use. Maybe he hacked your phone and cameras from places you frequent;

🦇 Barbara would be a little like Tim, but in a milder way. if you have a disability of any kind, you can be sure that she would have researched it, perhaps she would have become a little more protective;

🦇 Cass was happy to be able to watch your videos, she even started to have some of her quirks that she sees in the videos. If you practice some dance, she will definitely improve in that dance while dreaming of doing a ballet duet with you;

🦇 Stephanie is so excited to have someone to share trends and memes with. if you are part of a specific fashion style or subculture, she will research everything about it, from the clothes to the political or historical views of it;

🦇 Duke is surprised how the others didn't notice you, he watches your video game reviews and plays them from start to finish. I hope you notice your energy bill dropping suddenly;

🦇 Now there is a very thoughtful Damian, how could you hide from him for so long. he wonders if you would like to paint with him or if you have a pet, he would love to introduce you to his clan of animals;

🦇 Bruce pondered many things. he really loves you, don't get him wrong but his duties as Batman were a property and he wasn't sure how to approach a civilian like you, his beloved daughter. but rest assured that he will protect you... so don't worry that he has researched everything about your friends and girlfriend, after all it is for your safety;

🦇Alfred is pleased, they finally noticed the amazing girl he created and maybe you'll come home;

-Don't worry Young Miss, soon everyone will be paying attention to you like you always dreamed of.

----------------------------------------------------------

This is chapter 2, I hope you all like it. And yes, my Barbara have a wheelchair. kisses

part 1:

[brucedefender4eva]

Re your Bruce can't cook post, I TOTALLY agree that Bruce SHOULD be wholly capable of being able to cook for himself like hello, he is literally Mr Capable, BUT!!!! Crucially, I think that food is one of Alfred's primary love languages and being able to provide in that specific way for his family is very important to him so I think he's likely responsible for ushering everyone out of the kitchen. This is why my personal headcannon is that the first time Bruce attempts to make a full meal after he comes back from his training, the look of quietly reserved heartbreak on Alfred's face prompts him to act clueless about the recipe "Oh Alf, could you tell me what to do here,," etc.

Awe!!

It’s like when you realize you put your child down for the last time. You don’t realize in the moment that they’re too big and you can’t pick them up anymore.

You can pry the fact that Bruce can cook from my cold dead hands, but whether or not he chooses to cook depends on how he feels

Letting Alfred cook for him allows him to keep a piece of his childhood still alive. Bruce would never tell Alfred he didn’t like his cooking, even if he didn’t particular like a meal that he made.

Whenever Bruce forces Alfred to take a break saying the he works too much (hypocrite) that’s when he’ll cook for himself and his kids.

But he just can’t stand the quiet devastation on Alfred’s face when he’s able to make his way around the kitchen. It’s his way of showing his dad Alfred that he will always need him, no matter what.

On really good days, Bruce can convince Alfred to let him help bake. Never full meals because Alfred takes claim and pride in that, but sweet treats. It reminds Alfred of when Bruce was just a little boy, barely coming up to his knee, baking together and making a mess in the kitchen.

What an absolute beautiful headcannon that I will be stealing for myself

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nikolai's appetite disappears over night and Price smells a rat.

cw: mention of body shaming, damaged relationship with food.

Nik loved food.

Not in the way that Johnny did, slamming an entire packet of Maryland cookies and then descending into a sugar coma, or the way that Gaz did, by seeing it as fuel to maintain a powerful and efficient body, so every macro counted. But in the way a wine taster did; there wasn't a city on earth where he couldn't steer John to the very best restaurant, be it tiny back alley taverna or sprawling five star hotel.

He loved sampling different cuisines, sourcing exotic dishes and sharing them with John (who had drawn the fucking line at sea urchin and puffer fish, because while he had never considered a rule about eating shit that could kill you in seconds, he made an ardent one in that moment). John reckoned it was a leftover from his army days when he would have had to survive on rat packs and mess food like the rest of them. He was enjoying it now he could.

So, when Nik suddenly stopped eating, it was bloody noticeable.

He'd still take John out, filling his plate and excitedly watching his face as he tried it, but he wouldn't eat himself. And if he did, it was some poxy salad or plain chicken that looked like it hadn't even glimpsed a spice rack. There were empty tupperware containers stacked in the co-pilot chair of the Black Hawk and Nik remained completely sober during a post-mission arse squeak celebration. (Where they had - in Ghost's words - bum squeaked their way through; Price wasn't sure it was technically an idiom, but he let it pass.)

"You watchin' yer figure, Nik?" Price asked finally, reclining in the wicker chair at the little café they'd stopped in. They were just outside Florence, and the tourists were just beginning to slither groggily into the sun.

"Da," Nik tapped his stomach, "I am, what do you call it, spreading?"

"You look fine t' me. More n' fine."

"I have lost some. But I still have more to do." Nik tugged at his sleeve, a self conscious gesture that John had never seen him do, and it set his teeth on edge.

"Did someone say somethin'?"

Nik swallowed and John wished he'd take those bloody aviators off so his eyes were visible. "Not recently."

"Well, this has been goin' on for months," John said, gesturing at the black coffee that comprised Nik's entire breakfast, while John had polished off the continental version of a Full English. "So out with it. Who said what?"

"I..." Nik cleared his throat, shifting in his chair. "I was not wearing a shirt on a beach in America, visiting Laswell, and a group of young women advised me to go to the gym."

"You can olympic press Ghost."

"Da."

"You can bench press over twice your own bodyweight."

"Mm, da."

"I think you go to the gym plenty."

Nik went silent. He wasn't looking at John, which meant he was embarrassed and not sure how to recover. Whatever this was, whatever had been said, he would have retaliated with his usual bolshy dismissal at the time, but up there in his Heli it would have buzzed around in his head in the quiet until it got its barbs in.

"Fer a smart bloke, you 'n' 'alf thick sometimes."

"That is what I am trying to fi--"

"Not what I meant, Nikolai." John sighed, rubbing a hand over his beard as he considered Nik's slumped shoulders. "You're good-lookin', fit, hotshot pilot with yer gold chain. This is the first time some horrid cow has said somethin' cruel, I bet."

"I might have let myself go."

"You're fifty. It's allowed," John said. "But you haven't. Yer just as built as when we first met."

"I was thirty, John. That is not possible."

"I don't think I stuttered there, but I might be wrong..."

Nik tsked at him and wrapped his arms over his chest. He tried to make it look nonchalant but it was absolutely a barrier. "I am feeling self-conscious. It will pass. I do not wish to talk about it."

"Tough shit, Nik. We're talkin' about it." John scraped his chair loudly around the table and crowded into Nik's space, leaning down with his elbows on his knees to look up into the forlorn expression on his lover's face. "If - and I mean if - I thought your health was at risk, or you were lettin' yourself go, you not think I'd get you runnin' laps with my new crop until you were fit to run missions with my team again?"

"Da, I would expect nothing less."

"Yer part of my task force, Nik. I don't accept anythin' but the best. No exceptions. Tell me I'm wrong."

"I cannot."

"And has my performance between the sheets been any less enthusiastic?"

"Nyet..."

"Right, so, engage that mensa level intelligence of yours and compute the obvious bloody conclusion."

John reached forward, continuing even when Nik tried to recoil, to run his hands beneath his shirt. Nik's belly was warm, the hair on it soft, and John wanted nothing more than to rub his damn face into it.

"I know it's gonna take time to rebuild yer confidence, Nik. Not sure yer tellin' me the whole story but whatever they said, they're wrong. Women like that, they're cruel for sport. You could look like, uh... whathisname, Chris Hemsworth, 'n' they'd still say somethin'. Gives 'em a way to cover up their own insecurity, right?"

There was a small smile of amusement and Nik's arms fell away, letting John run his hands a little higher. "I am impressed you remembered the name of an actor, captain."

"Yeah, I watched a whole film the other night..."

Nik smiled. "A whole film. Impressive."

"Cheers." John lifted his hand to cup Nik's jaw, one hand on his knee. "Still wet my knickers for you, Nik, but tell me what else I can do t' help."

"Nothing, I am... I will be fine."

"Not like you to let some bird get under your skin like that. Sure there's nothin' else?"

Nik cleared his throat, looked to the side and then finally at John's face. "You do not wish to trade me in for a newer model?"

"Jesus fuck... waiter, il conto, per favore."

"Where are we going?"

"Back to the hotel room."

"Why?"

"'M gonna shag your brains out, since they're not functionin' particularly well on the inside. Up. Double time."

Nik reached for his wallet to pay but John had already slapped his credit card on the scanner by the time he looked up. He grabbed Nik's hand and dragged him down the few blocks to their hotel, where he intended to spend the rest of the afternoon making Nik feel like the hottest piece of arse on the planet.