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oneoftheextras · 3 months ago

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lockjaw | j.t six

masterlist | help me fund my top-surgery?

paring: hybrid puppy!jayce talis x f!reader

summary: after a recent breakup you find yourself adopting a hybrid to keep you company, but he's more feral than you can handle

series warnings: 18+, hybrid jayce (ears and tail), slight a/b/o traits (could argue alpha jayce), eventual smut, protective jayce, size difference

words: 8k

chapter warnings: tension, almost fight, fluff

proof-read by my girl: @madschiavelique

want a handwritten letter from a character? / join the discord for updates

“Hello! What can I get for you both today?” the barista beamed at you both, her smile radiating the warmth of genuine welcome.

She handed you both a laminated menu which you took, but Jayce hesitated slightly before he accepted the double-sided paper, not quite enjoying the feeling of the plastic against his skin.

“Oh, hello!” you greeted her back and let out a long “Uhhh,” of thought. You’d been so concerned about whether this café was suitable that you hadn’t even thought about what you wanted to eat.

You glanced up from the menu and saw that Jayce was having as much trouble as you. “If you would like a moment to decide that’s okay!” the barista continued her kind smile, “Just find a table and come up to the counter when you’re ready.”

Jayce moved the menu towards you and pointed to the drink he wanted and you nodded, “I think we’ll need a minute for food but drinks are good to go,” you spoke to the barista but your eyes flitted to Jayce, awaiting his nod of confirmation, which he provided.

You gave her your drink orders and paid, then walked through the small cafe looking for somewhere cosy for the two of you to sit.

Considering it wasn’t that big of a building, there were quite a few tables for its potential customers - small circular tables with only two chairs for intimate exchanges, ranging to large booths for a gathering of people, the options were overwhelming.

“Where do you want to sit?” you whispered to Jayce as if it were a secret between the two of you, the pressure of wanting to make this outing perfect making you recede within yourself. As if all your confidence had been used in the previous confrontation.

Jayce shrugged and glanced down at you with a tilted head, his expression changing slightly when he saw your shy demeanour. He surveyed the room for a second and then started walking towards a four person table by a wall of bookshelves, peeking over his shoulder to make sure you were following him; you were.

He pulled out two of the chairs on one side, giving you the option of which of the two you wanted to sit on, before walking to the other side and sitting in the one he’d chosen for himself.

Whilst the chairs themselves were aged and made of hardwood, the owners had arranged an assortment of cushions and pillows on top of them to make the surfaces more comfortable for longer stays. You picked up the pillow from the chair you didn’t sit on and put it behind your back, sighing with the relief that it brought.

Jayce didn’t seem that bothered by the hardness of his seat as he pulled the plush cushion out from under his body and presented it to you. You laughed gently and shook your head, “Two is enough for me, but thank you,”, at your words, he placed it on top of the seat next to him and gently pushed it down as if he were telling it to stay put.

There was a beat of silence between you, the only noise being the busy ambiance of the people around you. The subtle ‘Psst’ of the coffee machine nozzle blowing out fresh steam. The clattering and clinking of cups and cutlery. It was just enough to keep the awkwardness away from your table.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” you apologised, finally breaking the silence between you. Jayce gazed up at you, his forehead wrinkled at the raise of his eyebrows and his ears bounced at the sound of your voice; his head still tilted downwards as he inspected the menu but his attention was now on you.

His eyes searched yours, possibly looking for where your sentence was going. “In the other cafe-” you clarified, even though you didn’t need to, Jayce knew what you were talking about, “-I didn’t think it through properly, and I should’ve checked beforehand to make sure it was okay for you,” your eyes lost contact with his, the guilt you were feeling forcing you to look anywhere but him.

“I just didn’t expect it from them,” you pulled the sleeve of your top up over your knuckles and played with the fabric, “I’ve been going there since I’ve lived here and they’ve never been like that with anyone,” you knew you were rambling but you couldn’t stop the words from coming out.

You cleared your throat, you were unintentionally making excuses for them, and they didn’t deserve that. Jayce didn’t deserve that.

“They were assholes to you, I’m sorry,” you said firmly and regained your confidence enough to look back at him. It was as though his eyes had never shifted from when you’d started talking; he studied your expressions as you spoke as if he was going to have a test on it later that day.

You felt visually dissected by him, and you could tell he was searching for something specific beneath the word vomit that was being expelled from your mouth, but you didn’t know what.

He blinked slowly at you and you felt a wave of reassurance flitter over you, but before you could verbally dig yourself deeper into this apology hole the barista appeared at the end of your table.

“Got those drinks for you!” She put the two mugs down on the table with such delicacy that the ceramic clicking against the wood was almost inaudible. Just as quickly as she’d arrived, she left again with a happy “Enjoy!”.

Then it was back to the silence. Even though you’d already apologised, and everything in your gut told you not to linger on the subject and to move on, your heart couldn’t let it go.

The urge to bring it up again teetered on the edge of your tongue and you weren’t sure if you could balance it well enough for it not to topple over and fall out of your mouth.

His attention had returned to the laminated menu, reading every item with a curious intensity. There was a perfect excuse to change the subject onto what he wanted to eat, if he liked the music that was playing, or even if he was warm enough where you were sitting, but the roots of guilt were too deep into you that you felt like you needed to rip them out before the infestation was incurable.

“Why did you leave?” You asked before you could stop yourself and his body stopped moving at the mention of the situation, as though the thought of it turned him into a statue like a memory-medusa.

His vision went from the menu, to you, to the table, then back to you again.

He put the menu back down on the surface and laced his fingers together in front of him, seemingly in thought.

You should’ve left it alone, moved on with the afternoon and allowed him peace, but you were being selfish. The need to remove this guilt off of your shoulders had overpowered the conscious thought to let him move on, and that only pushed the stone of anxiety deeper into your stomach.

“It doesn’t matter, sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” you quickly tried to erase the question ever coming out of your mouth, but no matter how hard you inhaled, the words wouldn’t go back into your body.

You read the menu in front of you with such forced focus that you weren’t actually reading the words on the page, the same thoughts swirling around in your mind and overpowering any cognitive ability you had left to take in the letters and form any coherent sentences.

Out of your peripheral vision, you could see his fingers unwrap themselves from each other and his arms lift from the table. You locked your eye line onto the menu, actively ignoring what he was doing, feeling as if you had done enough damage for one day.

After a few moments he tapped the table and slid a napkin over to you, the white square landing diagonally over the text you were pretending to read. In black ink, the word ‘Safer’ was scribbled - parts of the tissue had ripped from the force of the pen tip, but it was legible.

You took the napkin in your hands, holding it delicately as if it would rip apart if you moved too quickly. “Safer?” you read it aloud and returned your gaze to him. His eyes flicked to the napkin and then to your face, nodding once.

“As in, it’s safer here?” you queried, the tight knot in your chest and your incessant need to overthink apparently making you forget the question you’d asked him.

He closed his eyes and exhaled with, what you regarded to be, annoyance. His shoulders relaxed as he opened them again and jutted his chin towards the exit. “Outside? Do you want to leave?” your heart sunk at the prospect that you’d only made the situation worse, making two mistakes in one day.

He shook his head side to side, his brown locks mimicking the motion in front of his forehead. No. He tapped the napkin twice with the ballpoint of the pen, harder than he had before and widened his eyes with his mouth slightly agape like he was mentally repeating what he was trying to say but the wavelength wasn’t reaching you. Your brain was too full of everything you’d done wrong today.

“I-” you started, looking down at the word and back to him as if viewing it another time would somehow rearrange the letters into a way that would form the sentence he was trying so hard to get to you. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” your eyebrows raised with sympathy from their previous state of confusion.

He reached forward quickly and spun the napkin back towards him, clicking the pen with his thumb and starting to scrawl more words onto the fragile surface. One letter in and you watched the delicate fabric tear from the force he was pressing down, making it completely unusable.

The hand that was holding the tissue in place swiftly scrunched it up in his palm, the same hand coming to massage his nose with frustration. His shoulders rose with a deep inhale, he held it for a second, then pushed it out of his nose as a way to calm down.

A minute of you watching him rub the indent between his eyes with his index finger and thumb felt like hours. Multiple times you had opened your mouth to say something but closed it again, not being able to find any words that would comfort anyone but yourself.

The usual comfortable silence between you was tainted with tension you didn’t know how to relieve. The pangs of nostalgia picked at your heart with involuntary memories of weaponised silent treatment.

But Jayce wasn’t him. It wasn’t like that with him, his silence was not a battle against you but one within himself and you needed to be patient with him.

“It’s okay,” you finally said, and he opened his eyes to meet yours again, his fingers still connected to the bridge of his nose. A cautious smile strained onto your lips, “I’m sorry I pushed, and I’m too much of an idiot to understand,” the second part of your sentence was supposed to have humour to it, but the moment it left your lips his frown deepened. He shook his head at your self-deprecating remark, clearly not liking the way you were speaking about yourself, but he softened his gaze and lowered his hand.

“We can talk about something else if you want?” you spoke with a new gentleness, trying to navigate the situation properly. You didn’t wait for him to answer before you threw another question at him, “Have you decided on what you want to eat?”.

Jayce stares at you and blinks as if he’s trying to keep up with the barrage of questions coming his way. He lowers his head to the menu again and exhales out of his nose twice in a mixture of a sigh and a chuckle, a ghost of a smile twitching on his lips.

He appreciated how hard you were trying to make him comfortable, it made the thrums of his own frustrations fizzle out into a calmness he wasn’t yet used to.

He laced two of his fingers through the handle of his mug and sipped his drink, reeling back for a moment as the hot liquid burned his top lip unexpectedly. His tongue ran over the sensitive flesh to soothe it as he looked down at the foam like it had done it intentionally.

As if watching him sip his coffee made you remember that you too had a drink, you mimicked his movements, lifting your cup to your mouth and blowing on the top layer of foam, not wanting to make the same mistake he did.

His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, he turned the menu with his other hand and pointed at what he wanted.

A loud grumble sounded from across the table, Jayce’s stomach seemingly agreeing with his choice. “You must be so hungry, I’m sorry!”, you said as you collected the menus off of the table and stood, the legs of the chair audibly creaking against the floor from the speed your thighs had pushed it backwards.

“I’ll go order the food and I’ll be right back,” you tapped the table twice with your knuckles and headed for the counter.

You stared at the words on the page, repeating what Jayce wanted over and over in your mind as you stood behind an older man. He was taking his time querying all the different syrup flavours that they had to offer.

You didn’t mind waiting. It gave you a moment of reprieve to catch your breath and slow your thoughts. Jayce was patient, but you couldn’t help but feel like you’d pushed that patience to its limit already, and this was your first real day together.

It wouldn’t surprise you if you woke up tomorrow morning and he was nowhere to be found with how badly today had gone. Your chest cramped at the thought.

“Hi, are you ready to order?” The barista’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Hi, um, yes!” You stepped forward and put your hands, and the menu’s against the counter, relaying what Jayce wanted and then your own choice.

You were pretty sure you’d remembered his order correctly, you prayed you had.

“Great, we’ll bring it over to you when it’s ready,” she finished scribbling on her notepad and punctuated it with a full stop, “You’re number six,” she handed you a wooden spoon with the number six drawn onto the convex side with black sharpie.

You took the spoon and started to turn when you spotted a pile of whiteboards and pens behind the partition that separated customers and staff.

“Excuse me?” You called out to her as she reached through the gantry, a hand - who’s owner you couldn’t see - took the paper slip containing your food order from her fingers.

She twisted her head around to you, giving you her attention once more, her face expectant and awaiting your question.

“Are those whiteboards for customers?” You asked, the inquiry feeling a bit silly now that you’d heard your own voice make it audible. “It’s just-“ you continued, over-explaining yourself again “-Your companion is mute?” She finished your question for you with an expression of understanding and sympathy.

“Uh, yeah,” you confirmed, a little taken aback that she knew what you were going to say before you could vocalise it, “That’s why we have them!” She grabbed one of the whiteboards and individually picked up a black, blue and red marker.

As she handed them to you, she must have noticed your surprised expression, or it was extremely obvious that you were out of your depth as she started to explain in more detail.

“It’s common for our hybrid friends to choose not to speak, most of them have been through a lot, it takes time for them to re-find their voice,” there was a sad but hopeful lint to her words, as if she’d experienced it personally.

The implication that Jayce may speak one day made your heart thump an extra time. You’d heard him chuckle and clear his throat multiple times, so you knew he had the itinerary needed, but hearing someone else say it filled you with optimism.

“Although, not all of them do,” her interjection dampened your internal celebration. She must have seen the excitement on your face and not wanted to give you false hope, “My nana had a hybrid who never spoke a word to her for her whole life, but she was the funniest person she knew, apparently.”

Whilst you wanted to stay and chat to the young girl, you glanced over your shoulder to make sure Jayce was still content while he waited for you.

He was sat sideways in his chair, one arm on the backrest and the other on the table as he observed his surroundings in more detail. You could spare a few minutes to maybe learn something that might help you make him more comfortable.

“She never spoke to her?” You asked, encouraging her to continue her story, “Not a word! All their communication was written,” she grabbed a cloth and started to wipe down the nozzles of the coffee machine as she spoke.

“My nana is the one who opened this place around 30 years ago, I think? And she was adamant we have enough whiteboards and pens for every table, that’s what mom said anyway,” she grinned as she retold the memory. It was nice to know this was a family owned business of people who genuinely cared for hybrids.

She dropped the cloth onto the counter, “I won’t keep you from your afternoon, but if you want more info about hybrids we have a couple of books,” she pointed to the bookshelves by the table Jayce had chosen.

“Is it that obvious I’m new to this?” You laughed and rubbed your elbow with your hand, the girl raised her hand and made a pinching motion with her fingers, “A teensie bit,” she played along with your humour.

“But it’s okay, we all start somewhere! You’ve made it harder for yourself by starting with such a large breed, but if the connection’s there, that’s all that matters!” She reassured you, the cadence of her voice carrying that of someone much over than she seemed.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you smiled at her with gratitude and left her to her job, returning back to Jayce.

Waiting for the food to arrive was much less awkward than before you’d ordered. Whatever tension you were feeling you’d seemingly left somewhere on the journey between your table and the counter.

The two of you sat in silence, taking turns to sip your drinks and take in your surroundings.

Jayce’s attention was on the ceiling where there was an intricate painting of ivy vines and leaves intermingling with, what you presumed to be, fake ivy pinned to the same surface. It gave the interior a more at-home-in-nature type of vibe.

Meanwhile, you were observing him. The way his curious eyes followed the trail of greens and ambers from the corner of the room to the expanse of the ceiling above you. The way his throat bounced with every swallow of his coffee, and his lips turned up into a satisfied and content smile.

His side profile was angular; the slope of his nose just after the slightly raised dorsum emphasised the tip nicely - it would wrinkle intermittently whenever a new scent found its way to his nostrils. His rounded lips, although scarred with harsh lines, were outlined almost-perfectly by his coarse beard.

The strands of hair from his moustache were beginning to peak over a bit too much, and you realised he would probably need to shave soon if he didn’t want to be eating it with his food.

As if he knew you were analysing the shape of his mouth, his lips parted slightly as he continued to admire the artwork above him, giving you a glimpse of the canines that you’d seen in different context this morning.

You couldn’t help but wonder what his voice sounded like. It wasn’t something you could rush, nor could you hold onto the expectation that you would hear it. But you could still wonder nonetheless.

Would it hold the same soft, patient, gentleness that you’d seen in his eyes?

Before your thoughts could take you any further, your plates were set down in front of you and you began to eat.

You hadn’t realised just how hungry you were until the first morsel of food connected with your tongue, your tummy immediately grumbling as if you weren’t actively feeding it.

He ate faster than you, and you realised he had the same sensation. The last time either of you ate was last night, and you were most certain that he hadn’t gotten proper rest.

“I’m sorry it took us so long to eat, I shouldn’t have dragged you around town,” you covered your mouth as you spoke to make sure no stray food flew at him despite having an empty mouth.

While he chewed the last few bites of his meal, he reached for the whiteboard marker and popped off the lid, scribbling on the board’s surface much easier than he had the napkin.

‘Stop apologising’ he’d written in hurried handwriting. You read it as you swallowed your mouthful, your instinct was to say sorry again but as you opened your mouth to do so he gave you a scolding look.

He didn’t need to write it down for you to understand he was saying ‘Don’t you dare’.

“I do that a lot, don’t I?”, he closed his eyes and nodded as he put the last piece of his food into his mouth and savoured the flavour. He didn’t seem annoyed, but you made a mental note to not say it as much.

“Okay, I’m never going to apologise to you again,” you joked, trying to fight the curl of your lips, but his raised eyebrow made you crack.

It was nice, sitting there with him. Comfortable.

When you’d finally caught up to him and cleared your plate, he picked it up and slid it on top of his, placing them both towards the end of the table so the server could retrieve them easier.

It was moments like these that you forgot what his file said about him. Feral tendencies and behavioural trouble seemed like the furthest thing from his repertoire.

Instead, he replaced where your plates had been with the whiteboard, rubbing out where he’d chastised you with the same napkin he’d ripped earlier and drew two horizontal lines and two vertical lines over the top of them.

As you were tipping the last of your drink into your mouth to wash down your food, you hummed excitedly as you recognised what he was doing. Tic-tac-toe.

He picked up all three of the pens and presented them to you with a gaze that said ‘Choose your weapon’, for this battle, you chose blue. He put the black pen down, having selected red as his sword for this tournament.

He gestured to you to start and you realised he was letting you go first. You twirled the pen between your fingers as you looked over the whiteboard, trying to decide which space to put your circle in.

“It’s been years since I’ve played this,” you recalled as you observed the grid. From your memory, going first almost always guaranteed a win because the other player would always be on the defensive, trying to counter the first player’s moves, it seemed like he was almost doing you a favour by letting you begin.

With an air of confidence, you put your blue circle in the top middle box. Before your pen had even lifted from the board he’d put his cross in the top right box, next to yours, with two swipes of the pen.

You narrowed your eyes with a sly smile, and he returned your expression with a raised eyebrow. Oh, it was going to be that type of game.

You had learned your lesson by underestimating him previously, but you wouldn’t make that same mistake again. Readjusting your posture so your elbows were on the table and your back an unhealthy arch, you inspected the board.

The circle and cross next to each other stared back at you as your brain mentally drew all the different moves you could make, he would be the one blocking your victory after all.

He watched you think. The way you chewed your bottom lip and your eyes darted to each square then back to the scribbles already on the board, the light crease in between your eyebrows whenever you reached a conclusion where he would win, and the subsequent shake of your head to erase the invisible game you were playing with him in his head.

He liked seeing you serious about a game, it sent a rush of adrenaline through him, finding a worthy opponent was difficult.

He could probably guess where your next circle was going to go just by how often your eyes locked onto the square, and he was already planning his own measures to stop you succeeding. He was correct in his assumption when he followed your pen to the middle left box.

You hoped your tactic would work - cutting off the middle box of the left and top so he wouldn’t be able to predict where you were going to go next, and so he couldn’t win on those lines.

He would surely take the bottom left so you couldn’t complete a trio on the left column and leaving the middle box unprotected for your taking - then you would have the option of winning horizontally or vertically.

The red pen drifted towards the left corner and you couldn’t help the grin that started to creep its way onto your face, soon victory would be yours.

Then, with a quick flick of his wrist, he swiped two lines in the bottom right corner.

Your smile dropped, your plan had failed. But then your mouth parted as your eyes finally relayed the information you were seeing to your brain, the middle right box was blank and he was one move away from winning.

Promptly, you drew your circle in the space, blocking his pesky red cross from triumphing over you. Although you hadn’t given yourself time to think about your move, it was the only one you could make that wouldn’t end the game immediately.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating in his throat and causing you to glance up at him. His lips were parted and his tongue caressed the tip of his fang for a moment before resting back in his mouth, the glint in his eye was almost identical to the one he had once his food had arrived. Hungry and ready to pounce.

You swallowed the saliva that had built up in your throat, the few microseconds it took for him to raise his pen building the suspense of your fate in a way that made your heart race.

You’d lost. Even though the game was still in motion, you could tell by his eager expression that he had you exactly where he wanted you. With threads of hope that you could still turn this around, but he was three steps ahead of you on a hill you couldn’t see over.

Eventually, he slowly drew his red cross in the centre square. Ironic, you thought you were being clever by not taking that one to begin with, but now it was your downfall.

The tip of his pen was still against the whiteboard when he raised his eyes to lock with yours, his golden irises held anticipation but not for how the game was going to conclude. No, he knew that from your first move, it was more so for your reaction. He wanted to consume your realisation of your defeat, and drink in the helplessness of knowing that whatever move you made, he had won.

You blinked rapidly, breaking the eye contact with him and taking in your situation. It took you a moment to register what had happened, but then you saw it. The only spaces blank were the top left, and the bottom and middle left - he could win with either the top or bottom left by making a diagonal red trio.

When you’d understood you’d lost you thought it was just by one space, but knowing that he had a selection of ways that he could claim his victory made you comprehend exactly who your opponent was.

One square would’ve been an honourable loss. However, the way he’d not only given you an advantage by going first, but so swiftly pulled that advantage out from under you and given it to himself was nothing short of impeccable.

“You win,” you straightened your back and spoke softly, starting to put your pen down in defeat. He tutted and you didn’t need to see his face to know that he was telling you the game wasn’t over yet. To surrender so close to the end would be to rip his reward from him.

Your fingers hadn’t left the pen yet and you’d already conceded to his wishes, drawing a lazy circle in the bottom corner and securing his success.

He folded his arms on the table in front of him and watched you pull your pen away hesitantly, as if the longer you took the longer you could live in the moment where you hadn’t lost.

The hand that was holding his pen came up to rest on his face as he tapped his cheekbone in mock deep thought, he smirked smugly as his eyes went from the whiteboard to your face, his lids slightly hooded but you could still see the gold of his irises piercing you with indiscernible contemplation.

He’d already won, so why was he dragging it out? You squirmed in your seat under the pressure of his gaze, and you saw his smile deepen. Ah, that was why.

Deciding that he’d tortured you enough, he put his cross in the top left box and drew a diagonal line through his three territories, signalling him as the winner.

You exhaled deeply and leaned back in your chair, examining the board to try and figure out where you went wrong, how he’d so quickly gotten the upper hand on you, but you were coming up blank.

He erased the whiteboard and re-drew the grid and you were all too happy to try and even the score.

The rest of the games were draws. As much as you wanted to win, the mixture of overthinking his moves and second-guessing your own meant that, no matter how hard you tried, he beat you. But the flash of his teeth and curl of his lips made it worthwhile - you didn’t mind losing if it made him happy.

You tapped your phone screen, having noticed that the cafe was starting to quieten down with empty seats, it was getting late. “I think they’re closing soon,” you said with regret, watching him wipe the previous game off of the board with the napkin, “Is there anything else you want?” you asked as you stood from your chair.

He thought for a moment and shook his head as he continued to clean up the board and put the pens on top of it in a neat line.

You picked it up and put your hand over the pens so they wouldn’t roll off as you walked and returned it back to the counter. You began to turn back around to the table and make your exit when you saw a cupcake in the bakery cabinet, vanilla sponge with a little bit of frosting and a strawberry, cut in half, nestled on top.

Immediately you asked the barista for it, you remembered in Jayce’s file that he liked strawberries and his favourite type of cake was vanilla - although, the document did state that vanilla was the only flavour they were able to get him to try in the short span of time he was there, but at least you knew he didn’t hate it.

You paid and she passed the treat to you on a little ceramic plate, you held it like it was the most precious thing in the world; this was your cargo to carry to its destination. However, as you slowly spun to return to Jayce, your shoulder collided with someone walking quickly behind you.

A sudden gasp left your lips as the cupcake wobbled but remained standing, and you gazed up at the moving target you’d accidentally hit. Another canine hybrid. His hair was a gradient of black to white from the roots to the ends, but with no uniform pattern, light grey being the dominant colour you could see - emphasised by the pointed grey ears sticking out from the wavy mess. A husky, if you had to guess. “I’m-”, “I’m so sorry!” you both spoke at the same time, but you were the one to finish your sentence first. He regarded you with icy blue irises, slightly obscured by the playful but curious hood of his lids.

“It’s fine, shit happens,” he shrugged with one shoulder, ironically the one you’d collided with, his voice was melodic with a slight raspiness to certain words. If this had been the first hybrid you ever encountered you would’ve never second-guessed if they could speak.

Internally, you scolded yourself. Automatically assuming that every hybrid was incapable of dialogue because they were different from you is not what they deserved.

Whilst you were in thought, you must’ve been staring at his shoulder because his hand came up to grab it dramatically, “I mean, ah!-” he bent his knees to dip as if he’d just been hit, “-I think it might be broken, you really did a number on me!”

There wasn’t a single drop of sincerity in his voice or his features as he scrunched up his face and grit his teeth in faux pain, the bridge and nose piercing bobbing with the sudden contraction of the muscle.

He opened one of his eyes to see your reaction, his face still a performance of agony, and his bottom lip pouted as if it took a lot of concentration not to break his character.

Then you laughed, hesitantly at first, but when he joined you it flowed easily.

You thought an awkward silence was going to follow, but his voice filled your ears again. “I haven’t seen you here before, first time?” he lowered his hand and his genuine tone returned.

You nodded, “Yeah, only found out about this place today. It’s nice!” you glanced around the cafe as if you were seeing it for the first time again, mainly to avoid his eye contact. Whilst he had a comforting aura about him, the light blue of his eyes felt like they were boring into your very soul.

“Well, I don’t get to come here often, but I’ll certainly remember a face like yours,” he wasn’t subtle in his compliment, but if there was any doubt of the intention of his words, the mischievous one-sided grin would’ve been all the evidence you needed.

You exhaled out of your nose as a bashful laugh escaped you. Despite his forward nature, this man was charming, you could tell he wasn’t serious in his advances but his playfulness was a breath of fresh air.

The man’s eyes trailed behind you and up, his smile remaining but his eyes lost their joyful lint. You turned your head to glance behind you but felt a tug on the back of your sweater, pulling you backwards and making you take a few steps back.

Jayce moved one step forward, placing half of his body in front of yours and between you and your new acquaintance.

The atmosphere shifted in a bubble around the three of you, the rest of the cafe unaffected by the unspoken argument between blue and golden gazes.

You didn’t need to see Jayce’s face to know his features were hard and apprehensive as he stared down at him, you could tell by the way he adjusted his shoulders. The smaller man tilted his head to the side, chin raising and back straightening to try and make himself look bigger.

It was like watching two peacocks bristling their feathers at each other. You reached your hand out to touch Jayce’s bicep but refrained from making contact, afraid that it might make the situation worse, “Jayce, it’s okay. He’s friendly,” you spoke softly but strongly. Maybe sounding confident would put him at ease that you weren’t in danger.

Jayce’s ear twitched towards you, hearing your words but his body language didn’t change. “No harm meant, big guy,” the husky reinforced your statement with his own, but folded his arms over his chest defensively. You swore you caught a glimpse of redness on his knuckles, but it could’ve been from the cold weather.

The tension in the air wasn’t fading and you could feel that both of them weren’t willing to back down anytime soon.

“Jayce, stop!” you called his name, this time not shouting but firmly and direct as an attempt to get his attention away from his potential opponent. “Listen to her,” the younger man jutted his chin towards you without his eyes leaving Jayce.

You flicked a stare towards your new friend, a gaze that told him that he wasn’t helping the situation, but before you could vocalise your thoughts to him a man came jogging towards the three of you.

“Abraxas!” His voice carried a command that you could never dream of speaking to Jayce with. Once he was level with you all he looked between the two hybrids, “Is he causing trouble?” The man panted, clearly out of breath from his speedy approach.

The husky - who must have been Abraxas - turned his head to the man with offense, unravelling his arms from his chest and extended his arms out either side of him with annoyance, “I didn’t do anything! We were chatting and this guy-” he raised his arm to gesture at Jayce but his sentence was cut off by the man’s hand pushing against his chest sharply to make him stand behind him.

You noticed how Abraxas’ ears drooped slightly at the action, but it had done the job of silencing him.

“He always does this,” he shook his head disapprovingly, “These bigger canines are hard to control sometimes, you turn your back for one second and they’re starting fights,” he spoke with a cadence of comradery with you, as if he was talking to someone who would mutually understand.

But it made you think. If Jayce got out of hand, would you stand a chance at calming him down?

Your gaze drifted back to the side of Jayce’s face as you cautiously stepped in front of him again so you could converse with the man. The fabric of your sweater was still pinched between his fingers and you felt the resistance of his gentle tug once he’d deemed you were close enough.

“It was all a big misunderstanding,” you explained, trying to portray with your voice how silly this whole altercation was. “At least your one is quiet, I can’t get him to shut up most days,” he chuckled, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at Abraxas, who seemed just as offended as before at the comment.

“I’m Henry, by the way,” the man extended his hand for you to shake and you resisted the urge to check with Jayce before you shook it and gave him your name. “Us canine owners have gotta stick together,” there was a noticeable crease beside his eyes when he spoke, showing his age. “Well, this is actually our first day together,” you corrected him and gestured to Jayce, who was still tense. “Ah!” Henry glanced between the two of you as if he had secret information of events you were yet to experience, “They can be a handful, but looks like you’ve got a good one,” his eyes trailed over Jayce as if he was examining him.

“This is Jayce,” you introduced him, missing the side eye that Jayce gave you as you freely offered up his name to this stranger, “Nice to meet you Jayce, sorry about the trouble,” Henry extended his hand for him to take as well, but you weren’t surprised when it was left hanging in the air.

“Well,” Henry dropped his hand and turned back to you, “I wish you luck! I’d offer you my number as a support line, but I wouldn’t want to impose!”, “Yes, please, that would be great!” you waited for him to finish speaking before you interjected with your acceptance out of politeness.

The truth was, after the events of today, this was going to be hard. You didn’t want to keep making mistakes that would backtrack any progress the two of you were making. The man took out his phone and passed it to you so you could input your number, “I’m very new to this, so any help is appreciated,” you gave him his phone back once you were done and felt your own phone vibrate with a text after he’d typed you a quick message. “You’ve certainly made a bold choice for your first hybrid,” his eyebrows jumped as his eyes lifted from his phone and to Jayce, again looking him up and down, “Any questions, shoot me a text.”

He said his goodbye and made his exit, grabbing the sleeve of Abraxas’ jacket and forcing him to walk with him, you could hear the muttering of scolding fade with them.

Jayce seemed to relax when it was just the two of you again. You thought about doing the same thing Henry had done and reprimand him for almost starting a fight, but the sympathetic expression he held told you that he already knew.

“I got you a cupcake,” you changed the subject and his features softened as he regarded the plate you’d been holding in your hand the entire time, “I hope you like it.”

He took the cupcake off of the plate, picking the strawberry off of the frosting and holding it in his palm. He bit into the sponge, almost eating the whole thing in one go, and you held your breath with anticipation.

His tongue wiped away any traces of the frosting that had attached themselves to his moustache and he hummed whilst nodding his head, showing his enjoyment. You let out your breath.

“Are you okay to eat it while we walk? I think they’re closing,” you twisted your head to see the members of staff wiping down tables and putting the chairs on top. Jayce didn’t give you an answer, but started walking towards the door instead.

The evening air was much colder than when you’d arrived, the sun having set a few hours ago and the only illumination you had was the streetlamps.

Jayce had finished his cupcake before you’d even caught up to him outside. He picked up one half of the strawberry and placed it into his mouth, the red berry seeming no bigger than a small candy in his palm as he presented the other half to you. You shook your head, “No, I got it for you,” but he moved his hand closer to you, insistent on you having it. You reached up and hesitantly took the strawberry half between your index finger and thumb, the tips of your skin gently brushing against his palm; it was warm, really warm, with a roughness to it that you didn’t want to question.

Placing it into your mouth, you chewed with a thankful smile as he licked the part of his hand where the sticky residue of the fruit had leaked and brushed his hands off against each other.

“Shall we go get some snacks for home?” you said once you’d swallowed, the word ‘home’ seeming foreign to say to someone other than yourself, reminding yourself that it was now his home too.

His nod certified your next plan of action and you led him to the closest store you knew would be open. He stayed close to you as you roamed the aisles, picking up what snacks you wanted and encouraging him to do the same. As you approached the register you passed the stationary section and an idea came to you. It would be impossible for you to pick something up without Jayce noticing, so as casually as you could, you picked up a sketchbook and a metal tin of drawing pencils. You remembered how interested he was in the artist earlier and wondered if he wanted to try it himself.

By his unchanged expression, you assumed he didn’t notice, or thought it was for you.

You paid and continued your walk back to your apartment, the inky black night sky now hung fully above you, it really was getting late. There was too much light pollution in town, all the neon signs of bars and restaurants, with the bright street lamps, meant that any attempt at observing the stars would be pointless.

Has Jayce ever seen the stars? You thought to yourself. He must have, from his years of not having a roof over his head. But had he ever stargazed without the fear of what the dawn brought? You made a mental note to yourself to take him further out of town one day to do just that, maybe even camping?

You were so deep into your mental to-do list that you barely noticed when Jayce had stopped walking. His head was tilted towards the high rooftops of the tall buildings, drinking in the LED lights that you’d seen so many times since winter hit.

You shuffled next to him and stuffed your hands into your pockets to protect them from the chill, taking in the bright white snowflakes and tinsel that draped from roof to roof. In some sense of it, this was probably the equivalent of Jayce seeing the stars for the first time, under different conditions.

To you, it was a simple and repetitive thing that the council organised every year, but to him it was the first time seeing the festive lights. You thought about how it must feel, to have a moment of wonder so late in your life, one that you had taken for granted as a child, but a glance at his face answered your question.

The pulsing glow radiated in the glossy surface of his eyes, as if the stars themselves had nestled into them to twinkle and shine, recognising another celestial body. The soft hue of the whites, green and reds reflected against his skin, illuminating him like he too was a celebration to be marvelled at.

It astounded you how anyone could treat this man so poorly. His features were so full of longing and affection that he wasn’t yet ready to share with another living person, an adoration that begged to be allowed to the surface. But the festive lights were an exception, they couldn’t hurt him.

You opened your mouth to usher him along, to mutter a quiet “Let’s go home,” but you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt this moment.

So, you patiently waited for him until he was ready. Viewing the lights you’d seen in various different places throughout your life, they were always similar designs, but this time through a new lens. Appreciating them from a new perspective, the perspective of Jayce.

lockjaw:

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rikudaa · 19 hours ago

Text

₊ ⊹ ᶻz !! The Ones Who Weren’t There !! ␥ Part 2

[BatFam x Alien Stage] x Reader | <<< You are here!! >>>

✮ WARNING!! Contains Themes Of Violent Death, Grief, Psychological Trauma, Body Horror, Emotional Breakdown, Survivor’s Guilt

Again, this is part two for the earlier post SO READ THE FIRST PART FIRST, UP YOU GO🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒

The low murmur of keyboards and coffee machines faded into static the moment the newsroom screen flared to life.

Dick, now just another name on an HR payroll in Blüdhaven’s safer corners at day—was elbow-deep in quarterly reports when his coworker’s voice slithered through the haze of workday monotony.

“God, Gotham’s a cesspool. Did you see the news? Gala turned massacre. Whole damn city’s cursed—wait, isn’t that your sibling?”

The air collapsed.

He blinked. Once. Twice. Like rebooting a jammed system. His pen dropped, clattering loudly against the laminate desk, but it sounded like it came from underwater. A dull echo. The noise of a world beginning to warp.

He turned to the TV.

The news chyron bled across the bottom of the screen:

“BREAKING: Unidentified Body Found After Gotham Gala Massacre. Brain Removed.”

His eyes snagged on the footage.

A stretcher.

A body under a black tarp.

Boots. Flashbulbs. Officers shouting.

Plastic gloves smeared with something dark and glistening.

“That can’t be—no. No. No, no, no—”

Not you.

His chair screeched as he stumbled to his feet. He was shaking and didn’t even know it. The room swayed. His vision tunneled. Somewhere behind his ribs, a war began—a fight between every breath he couldn’t take and every scream he wouldn’t let loose.

The screen cut to a slow replay: the tarp lifting. A gasp from the bystanders. The gloved hand reached into the body bag—just for a second. A sliver of exposed jaw. Pale skin. Bloodless. Too bloodless.

The top of the skull—

Gone.

A void where a mind should be.

And Dick’s mind broke open with it.

He gasped—violently—as if the TV had just punched air out of his lungs. His hands gripped the sides of the desk. The wood under his fingers warped, melted into the phantom feeling of a gala wineglass. The memory struck like lightning: your laugh under chandeliers, the rustle of your formal wear, the way you’d said, “Bruce is impossible, but he backed out. I’m handling the gala instead—wish me luck, Dickie.”

The memory shattered into blood.

He staggered backward. A chair toppled. Someone called his name but it didn’t reach him.

“They got it wrong. The press—always fast, always messy. It’s a mistake. It’s a mistake. That’s not you. That’s not you, that’s not–”

But it was the coat.

The color.

The cufflink—his cufflink, one he’d gifted you last winter, gold and black and one of a kind.

And that’s when the spiral began.

It wasn’t just horror. It was a fracture.

Denial wasn’t a wall—it was a flood, tearing through every cell in his body.

He couldn’t breathe. His chest caved in on itself. His vision pixelated. He clawed at his tie like it was a noose, a foreign object choking him.

“They’re wrong. You’re alive. You’re probably pissed Bruce bailed on the gala and now you’re hiding somewhere, sipping scotch, sulking over bad press. You always hated the spotlight—this is a prank. A test. Maybe Jason’s idea of a sick joke. Or Scarecrow—maybe this is a fear toxin flashback. Yes. Yes. That’s all it is.”

You weren’t-

…missing a brain.

His heartbeat thundered so loud he didn’t notice he was crying until a drop fell onto the back of his hand.

He was halfway out the office before anyone could stop him, breath ragged, lips moving to a name he didn’t dare say aloud.

Not yet.

Not until he could prove the universe wrong.

Because if that body was you–

If your eyes would never open again–

If someone had reached into your skull and stolen the part that made you you–

He wasn’t just going to mourn.

He was going to burn Gotham to the ground to find the monster that did it.

──── ୨୧ ────

Jason had been close.

The sensor tripped—a flicker of red on his gauntlet HUD. Hidden panic clenched his gut, but he was already on the bike. Already tearing through Gotham’s streets like a bullet ripped from the barrel. He’d always told you to keep it low profile, but you insisted on finishing Bruce’s gala.

Always trying to hold the damn family together, even when it splintered.

He was close.

But never fast enough.

When he got there, Crime Alley was already swarming. Flashing red and blue strobed across the soot-stained brick, casting monstrous shadows down the corridor of Gotham’s most cursed street. It looked like a wound split open in the city’s ribs. Blood-slick asphalt. Sirens howling like eulogies.

He ditched the bike two blocks away.

Walked the rest of the distance like a man descending into his own grave.

Jason didn’t blink. Didn’t ask permission.

He walked past two rookie cops. Shaking. Crying. One vomiting against the side of the ambulance, hands braced on his knees, the other whispering frantically into his wrist mic, “It’s like a butcher shop… Jesus Christ…”

He stepped inside.

And the smell hit first.

Iron. Burnt ozone. Copper. And something rotted.

The crime scene was centered under the crooked old lamppost—half-lit, the bulb flickering like it couldn’t decide if it should expose or mercy-dim what lay beneath.

He saw drag marks. Two trails. Long. Panicked.

Someone had fought here. Desperately.

The sidewalk bore impact cracks, as if something—or someone—had been slammed into it, again and again.

The blood trail was wide.

Wide and dark and too much.

The stench nearly took him to his knees.

He didn’t throw up.

Didn’t breathe.

He just moved, slow, controlled, rage tightening in every joint, his gun already drawn because this wasn’t a rescue anymore. This was a fucking hunt.

Then he saw it. The ping zone. Right at the mouth of the alley.

Your last stand.

Your watch was there–the screen cracked, but the signal light was still blinking—pathetically, like it didn’t understand it had failed.

“No.”

His voice rasped, caught between fury and a breaking sob he would never admit to.

“You were supposed to ping me. You did. I came. I was here—I WAS FUCKING HERE.”

He crouched beside the watch, blood squelching under his boots. One gloved hand hovered over it—shaking.

There was no body.

Only pieces.

Pieces.

Not enough to say for certain. Not enough to kill hope.

But the blood told him the truth anyway. The kind of blood loss no one walks away from.

And the skull–God, your skull.

Or what was left of one.

The top of the cranium was gone—scooped out like a jack-o’-lantern.

Blood seeped around it, pooling under where the brain should have been.

But there was nothing.

Nothing inside.

They didn’t just kill you.

They desecrated you.

This wasn’t a crime.

It was a statement.

Jason’s throat closed around a scream he didn’t let out. Not here. Not in front of these bastards who’d arrived too late. Not in front of the blinking camera feeds. Not where someone might see the Jason Todd on his knees, shaking like a child and staring at a broken watch like it was a headstone.

“I should’ve been faster.”

The guilt gnawed instantly.

He thought of Dick—what this would do to him.

Of Bruce—how he’d fold it into another stoic silence.

Of himself—and how he wouldn’t survive this. Not again. Not you.

You were his tether. The one person who still called him “Jay” like it didn’t taste like ash. The one who gave him shit about overkill, but still patched his wounds when he came back bloodied.

Now there was nothing.

No you.

No face to hold onto. No soft body to bury.

Just the red blinking light.

And blood.

So much blood.

Jason stood slowly. Every movement hurt.

He holstered the gun. But not the rage.

“I’m gonna find them,” he whispered.

“I’m gonna find whoever did this. I’m gonna look them in the eye. And I’m gonna carve their fucking names into the devil’s guest list.”

Behind him, the lamplight flickered once, then went out completely.

Because someone had taken his tether to humanity—

And now?

He had nothing left to lose.

──── ୨୧ ────

Wayne Manor had gone silent for the night.

No operatic soundtrack echoing from the study. No clink of decanter glass. Just the whisper of firelight crackling in the hearth, and the rustle of papers as Bruce Wayne read through an intelligence report that had been sitting unopened for three days.

He hadn’t attended the gala.

You did.

And instead…

His phone rang.

The line that never rang unless it was bad.

Worse than bad.

Bruce froze.

His hand hovered over the encrypted comm.

Then it rang again.

He picked up.

“Wayne.”

The voice on the other end was tight. Measured.

GCPD.

“We… Mr. Wayne, we need you to come to Crime Alley.”

He didn’t respond at first. Didn’t move.

“There’s been… an incident. We believe your legal signature may be required to identify… remains. It’s your ward. We found credentials. We—please, sir.”

Bruce said nothing.

He hung up.

He didn’t throw the phone. Didn’t scream.

Just stood.

Rigid. Straight-backed. Like a soldier receiving orders from a war he thought was long over.

Crime Alley had never changed.

Still dark. Still narrow. Still reeking of old tragedy and new ones waiting to happen.

The Batmobile didn’t come. Bruce Wayne arrived alone, in a nondescript black town car. His coat sharp. Face pale. Movements exact.

He walked through the barricade tape, not even looking at the officers who parted for him like water.

Some recognized him. Some averted their eyes.

Most said nothing.

One detective—a younger man, freckles, eyes red from crying—met him halfway.

“Mr. Wayne. Sir. This way.”

He was led past the alley’s mouth, to where the cleanup hadn’t even started yet.

Jason’s silhouette stood off to the side. Still. Bleeding at the knuckles. Blood that wasn’t his. Or maybe it was.

His mask was off. Eyes vacant. Rage burned out into the kind of grief that could kill gods.

Bruce looked down.

There was a metal cart draped in a white sheet.

There was the watch—your watch—bagged beside it, cracked but blinking.

And there was a clipboard.

The words “LEGAL GUARDIAN / IDENTIFYING RELATIVE” printed at the top.

Bruce reached for the clipboard. His hand trembled once. Just once.

He forced it still.

The sheet was lifted.

And for a moment, time stopped.

Not because of gore. Bruce had seen worse.

Not because of the horror—though it was there, oh God, it was there.

But because there was nothing behind your eyes.

Because there were no eyes.

No skullcap. No brain. Just a hollow cavity.

A mind stolen.

A child erased.

He didn’t flinch.

He didn’t cry.

He just stared.

Long enough for the fire behind his eyes to ignite.

Then—

He signed.

B. WAYNE

Block letters. Neat. Final. The same way he signed every mission log, every will, every authorization for body disposal from the League.

But this was different.

This was you.

And paper wasn’t enough.

Jason approached slowly. Quiet. Like even breathing wrong might crack the world further.

“I was late,” he rasped.

Bruce didn’t answer.

“I came as fast as I could, but—”

“I know,” Bruce said. A voice carved from stone.

He looked at the remnants of your watch.

“I should’ve gone myself. It should’ve been me. Not you.”

Jason turned his face away, fists curling again.

“What do we do now?” he asked.

Bruce’s eyes sharpened. Cold. Focused.

“We bury what’s left.”

He looked toward the blood stains drying under the lamppost where his life had once changed.

Then back to yours.

“Then we hunt.”

He didn’t speak the entire ride back to the manor.

Didn’t change.

Didn’t sit.

He stood in the center of the library, coat still soaked from alley rain, the silence heavy like a shroud.

The clock ticked.

4:29 a.m.

He reached for the secure comm device on the desk. His fingers trembled, just slightly.

He called her.

Selina answered after the first ring, her voice still velvet with sleep.

“Bruce? That you?”

Silence.

Then—

“You’re calling late, or early—I guess depending on what disaster you’re cleaning up. What’s wrong?”

More silence.

She sat up. He could hear it—the creak of silk sheets, the shift in her breath.

“Bruce. Say it.”

He stared at the floor.

Where you once sat with a cup of tea and tired jokes about how the manor was too quiet without Damian’s brooding and Dick’s bad coffee.

I should have gone.

It should’ve been me.

He exhaled through his nose. A single sound. Broken.

Then finally, he spoke.

Low. Guttural. Final.

“It’s Y/N.”

Selina didn’t respond right away. But he knew her silence. It wasn’t confusion—it was comprehension. The kind of silence that comes only when the floor drops out from under you.

“How bad?” she whispered.

He closed his eyes.

“No body.”

“…”

“Just blood. Pieces. Skull damage. Brain’s gone. They took it. Left the rest.”

Another silence. This one hurt more.

“Bruce. I’m coming over.”

He didn’t stop her.

Didn’t say “No” or “Don’t.” Didn’t do anything but drop the comm back onto the desk like it weighed a thousand pounds.

He stood there alone.

The man who taught Gotham to fear the dark now stood powerless against the shadow it had stolen.

He could handle blood.

He could handle death.

But this?

This was void.

And Bruce Wayne had no contingency plan for grief shaped like a missing mind.

──── ୨୧ ────

The sun rose without permission.

Across Gotham, the city exhaled into its usual chaos—sirens, taxis, coffee cups, the sleepy grind of another morning that didn’t yet know someone was gone.

But at 9:06 a.m., Tim Drake did.

He was half-dressed in his dorm room, one hand mid-reach for his tablet, when he noticed the missed calls stacked on his phone screen like a silent scream:

4:52 a.m. – Bruce (4 calls)

4:56 a.m. – Alfred (1 voicemail)

5:03 a.m. – Jason (text: “Answer your damn phone.”)

5:08 a.m. – Unknown GCPD number

He hit play.

“Master Timothy… it’s Alfred. I… I’m sorry. There’s been an incident. It’s Y/N. They were found in Crime Alley last night. We need you at the manor. You were one of the last to see them—please come home.”

He stopped breathing.

Memory rushed in like a flood he wasn’t ready for.

Last night.

You stood just outside the gala entrance, eyes tired but warm. You tugged Damian’s tie loose and made some dry comment about him learning fashion from Bruce. Tim had laughed, and you’d grinned at both of them. Just for a second. That grin.

“Go,” you said. “I’ve got this. I need to head back to my dorm anyway—last gala dance of the season, right?”

So casual. So safe.

He and Damian had taken that as their cue to leave.

And now?

Now Alfred was telling him you never made it home.

•

9:29 a.m. | Gotham Academy Grounds

Damian had only just arrived.

His ride had dropped him off near the Academy gate, and he was heading toward the east wing when he noticed something… wrong.

His communicator buzzed in his coat pocket.

Then buzzed again.

Then again.

He scowled, annoyed at the interruption. Until he saw the message.

“Come home. It’s Y/N.” — Alfred

He froze.

Right there in the middle of the walkway. Students brushed past him, laughing, shouting, alive.

His mind played back your parting words—“I need to head to my dorm anyway.”

He had nodded at the time, smug and satisfied that you’d handled the gala despite Bruce flaking.

But now…

Something in him fractured.

He turned on his heel and began walking back toward the school’s gates without a word.

10:04 a.m. | The Batcave

The manor was too quiet.

Tim entered through the upper floor and instinctively followed the hum of tech down the hidden elevator shaft, down into the heartbeat of the house.

The Batcave lights glowed cold and clinical.

Bruce stood in front of the main console, cowl discarded but armor still on—shoulders heavy, jaw locked.

Jason leaned against a table to the side, helmet in hand, eyes bloodshot.

Alfred sat stiffly on a chair nearby, hands folded, a glass of untouched tea beside him.

When Tim stepped off the platform, no one said anything.

They didn’t need to.

“It’s real,” Tim whispered.

Bruce only nodded once.

Tim’s knees buckled.

He gripped the nearest workbench to stay upright, blinking fast, vision swimming. His backpack slipped off his shoulder with a thud. He didn’t bother picking it up.

Then—

Footsteps.

Rapid. Sharp.

Damian.

He stormed off the elevator like it had offended him.

“What the hell happened.”

His voice cracked halfway through, though he tried to bury it under rage.

Jason moved to intercept, but Bruce raised a hand. Let the kid come.

Damian stopped in front of the console. Saw the footage playing in silent loop.

Crime Alley. Blood. The blinking watch. The dragged smear of a body that wasn’t whole.

His jaw clenched. Fists balled.

“We left. They told us they had to go back to their dorm. We didn’t argue. We left.”

No one responded.

The silence was a verdict.

Damian shook his head—hard, as if trying to rattle the truth loose from his brain.

“No body?” he asked quietly.

Alfred answered, voice gravel-rough.

“Only fragments. Part of the skull. The brain… was removed.”

Tim turned away, a hand over his mouth. He was shaking.

Damian just stood there.

Still.

Staring at the watch on the display.

Your watch.

Still blinking red.

“They were fine. They were laughing. They were—whole.”

He looked at Bruce.

“Why weren’t you there?”

It came out like a blade.

Jason inhaled sharply, but again, Bruce said nothing.

Damian turned away, but not fast enough to hide the wet sheen in his eyes.

“We were the last to see them,” Tim whispered, hoarse. “Do you know what that means?”

No one had to say it.

They all knew.

It meant the memory of your smile would be the last one they’d ever have.

It meant your voice would live in their heads like a ghost.

It meant they had let you walk alone into the dark.

And now all they had left was blood, silence, and a blinking watch that wouldn’t stop calling for help.

──── ୨୧ ────

It was the day after.

The news hadn’t broken publicly yet—not fully. Gotham’s media machine was still running on speculation and half-formed headlines.

“Violent Crime in Crime Alley — Sources Say ‘High-Profile’ Victim.”

“Massive Blood Loss, No Body, GCPD Investigating Ritual Angle.”

But at 10:46 a.m., the truth hit the rest of them.

And it hit hard.

Steph was in the middle of a coffee run when she saw the Bat-signal flare faintly across the WayneComm emergency line.

“Wayne Manor. Cave. Now.”

She rolled her eyes. No context. Typical Bat-style.

Still, something gnawed at her gut.

She balanced her tray of coffees all the way to the manor, boots crunching on gravel with every confident step, humming some dumb pop song under her breath. Just another meeting, she thought. Maybe a mission brief. Maybe B had finally figured out who was sneaking cookies from Alfred’s tin.

Then she walked into the cave.

The air was ice.

Bruce stood still by the monitor. Jason wouldn’t look up. Tim was seated, face buried in his hands. Damian was statue-still beside the watch console, fists clenched so tight his gloves creaked. Alfred stood near the elevator, red-eyed.

And in the corner, a large display screen—

Crime Alley. Blood. Markers.

The Watch. Still blinking. Still searching.

Steph blinked.

Then blinked again.

A step back. Then forward.

“Wait. Where’s—where’s Y/N?”

The silence answered.

And just beside the elevator—

Selina Kyle.

Black coat. Red lips. Arms crossed, but jaw clenched like she was chewing glass.

She hadn’t said much since arriving. Just showed up after Bruce’s call like a shadow at the door.

She didn’t need directions. She knew where the pain lived.

Everyone noticed her.

No one said anything.

But the thought hung in the room.

Why were you there and not Y/N?

You were supposed to host the gala because Bruce pulled out. You were supposed to make the appearance, smile, keep up the illusion of a still-standing family name.

Selina should’ve been with you.

Should’ve escorted. Should’ve backed you up. Should’ve noticed something.

But no one asked.

Not out loud.

Because grief in this family wore too many masks.

The tray of coffee hit the floor.

And then she was on her knees beside it, sobbing into her gloved hands like it would bring you back.

•

Duke had a sense for things—light, shadows, the moods that lived between words.

When he arrived at the manor, the stillness gave him his answer before anyone said it aloud.

He walked into the cave, scanned the faces, and his chest seized.

“What happened.”

No one lied.

Not even Bruce.

They told him the truth.

Crime Alley. No witnesses. No camera footage. Too much blood to survive. No body.

“The brain was removed.”

That last detail—

That’s when his hands trembled.

Not because of gore. He’d seen worse.

But because you weren’t just another sibling. You were present. You listened. You made time for his questions about identity, legacy, shadows, and light.

You had a mind that made space for others.

And now someone had stolen it.

He didn’t cry.

He sat down, quietly, and started flipping through surveillance feeds, timestamps, power outages.

“If they left nothing,” he whispered, “that means they wanted it that way. That’s a pattern. We’ll find it.”

Grief would come later.

For now, he’d find the gap in the light.

•

Cass knew.

She’d felt it hours ago.

The ping. That cold, sharp, too-late red light.

She’d checked the location instantly, heart already racing before the data finished loading.

Crime Alley.

She knew you’d been at the gala. Knew you weren’t supposed to be there.

Knew something was wrong the second it flared.

She called the comm line.

Then another.

Then tried again.

But she was already too far—in Hub City, two hours out even with the fastest route.

She had screamed once—short and sharp—and launched into motion, already suiting up, already on the bike.

But by the time she got the second update, it wasn’t a rescue anymore.

It was a cleanup.

The guilt wrapped itself around her ribs like wire. Still hadn’t let go.

She crouched now by the dimmed display, one gloved hand still resting where the last signal pulsed.

Steph sat beside her, quiet now, eyes raw.

“If I had just—if I didn’t leave…”

Cass didn’t answer.

Didn’t say you told them to go.

Didn’t say you were proud of them.

Didn’t say you joked about dorms and deadlines.

Instead, she stood up. Movements stiff. Precise.

Walked straight past the console to Selina, and stood in front of her like a statue built from everything unspoken.

Selina met her gaze.

No flinch.

No apology.

Just mirrored pain, just as sharp.

Cass didn’t say why weren’t you there.

She didn’t have to.

Her body said it.

Selina didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Just clenched her jaw harder and nodded, like yes—she knew she should’ve been there.

She always knew.

Bruce stepped forward, voice low.

“We’ll find them.”

No one questioned who. Everyone knew.

This wasn’t a mugging. It wasn’t random. This was surgical.

A brain stolen. A body desecrated. A message sent.

“This wasn’t about opportunity. This was targeted. Someone knew Y/N would be alone. Someone waited for the right moment.”

“And someone,” Jason said, voice shaking, “knew how to get past us all.”

Steph looked up. “You think they’ve done it before?”

Bruce nodded once. “Or… this is only the first.”

Cass moved back to the center of the cave.

Her voice—quiet, but firm—cut through the room:

“No more delays.”

“We hunt now.”

──── ୨୧ ────

You wake with a gasp.

Air floods your lungs like water after drowning—sharp, cold, wrong.

Your body arches against the grass beneath you—soft, too soft. The light above is too bright, and it doesn’t feel like sunlight.

You slam a hand against your forehead as pain lances through your skull. Blinding. Like something hot was carved into the inside of your brain and then scraped out.

You can’t breathe for a second.

You squeeze your eyes shut and see red behind your lids.

Panic flares in your chest. You remember—nothing.

A color. A sound. A shape, maybe. A scream—

Then it’s gone.

Your fingers brush something cold and metallic around your neck.

A collar.

You blink. A red dot flickers at the center—glowing. Watching.

You barely have time to register it when you hear the voice.

Soft. Familiar. Somewhere to your left.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

You turn.

Your vision blurs at the edges.

Someone’s sitting beside you—legs crossed, concern etched on their face. Familiar. Maybe. But your head is too full of fog and static to name them.

They tilt their head at you.

Your heartbeat’s still trying to climb out of your ribs.

You don’t answer at first. The words feel far away.

But something else answers for you. Something instinctual. Buried.

You shake yours. Lightheaded.

You force a breath.

“Nothing, Mizi.”

The red light on the collar pulses once.

And you smile.

But the pain behind your eyes doesn’t fade.

<<< You are here!! >>> •Note: GUESS WHO’S HERE

And again grief time, more reactions lol, I combined Steph, Cass and Duke parts together (and cut out Babs–) but it seems too rushed but well, it’s too long and make my literally phone lagging. And this is my inspiration if you feel familiar, word count is 7k for both parts what the helly!!

Tagging: @lizzyzzn, @whaaaaaaaaat111, @hai-there-how-are-you, @1abi, @dreamzaremyrealityy, @bugsfruits, @alishii, @ememgl, @cssammyyarts, @kaeyasrose, @cebrospudipudi, @cupid73

#dcu #dc x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #batsib!reader #stephanie brown x reader #bruce wayne x reader #alfred pennyworth #tim drake x reader #duke thomas x reader #cassandra cain x reader #batfam x neglected reader #neglected reader #riku’s writing #no beta we die like jason todd #alnst mizi #heavy angst #Rose of Gotham series

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marimondart · 7 months ago

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Online Shop: Launched!

Hi everyone, I have some exciting news.

I just launched my online shop if anyone is interested in prints. I also sell them directly through paypal and I am able to print anything, laminate anything and create stickers* of any of my works in-house (so long as they're within letter size :), just DM me.

Stickers are vinyl and waterproof, but I will only be offering square or rectangular options (since I don't own a cricut nor outsource creation to anyone else).

Any print or photocard can be backed with high quality paper or laminated with clear holographic paper.

Photocards come with plastic cover.

Sizes I currently offer (again, message me and I can print larger (up to 12 x 9 IN)

Sizes below are approximations, but generally I will abide by the measurements provided in "mm". Each print is hand cut, hand backed, hand-laminated and the corners are all cut by me. I am not a a machine but I will mail good work.

Standard Photocard Size (55x85mm, ~A8, ~2x3 inch)

Mini-Print Size ( 105x148 mm, A6, ~4x6 inch)

Standard Size (48x210 mm, A5, ~6x8 inch)

Links and other options below (images redirect to listing).

(Hyuna / HyuLuka prints, available in A8/Photocard, A6, A5)

(ALNST Girls (Sua, Mizi, Hyuna) prints / photocards, available in A8/Photocard, A6, A5)

These images are also available as NSFW photocards (available in this link)

ALT: Image of the laminated photocard option

ALT: Image of the backed/mounted photocard options.

I will do mounting / lamination / rounding for free (for a limited time). Just add a note in your order

#alnst #sua #hyuna #mizi #alnst luka #alnst hyuna #hyuluka #mizisua #suamizi #lukahyuna #merchandise #commissions open #digital art #art #artists on tumblr #fanart #commissions

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psatalk · 8 months ago

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Bambrew’s range of eco-friendly packaging alternatives

Bambrew, an Indian startup specializing in sustainable packaging, is making strides in the fight against single-use plastics by offering a range of 'eco-friendly' alternatives, says Vaibhav Anant, founder & CEO. The company provides packaging solutions made from renewable, biodegradable materials such as bamboo, seaweed, banana fiber, and agro-waste. According to Anant, these materials are fully compostable and serve as viable alternatives for businesses seeking to reduce their environmental footprint.

“Our solutions are governed by four core principles of sustainability—eco-friendliness, functionality, cost-efficiency, and scalability. These guiding principles enable us to deliver packaging options that are not only environmentally responsible but also commercially viable for businesses of all sizes,” Anant says.

Bambrew offers a range of packaging alternatives, including mailer bags, flexible pouches, rigid boxes, and custom solutions, all designed to meet the functional needs of various sectors while remaining scalable. It has developed solutions for industries such as FMCG, CPG, fresh fruits and vegetables (F&V), food and beverages (F&B), and e-commerce and retail packaging.

Notable clients include Amazon, Nykaa, Hindustan Unilever, Mahindra Logistics, and Tata 1mg.

Material-Agnostic Company

Anant explains that Bambrew is a material-agnostic company, meaning it develops solutions using various materials, all adhering to the four core principles of sustainability as mentioned earlier.

Bambrew prioritizes sustainability not only in its products but throughout the entire product development lifecycle, from sourcing and compounding to conversion processes, says Anant. The company works closely with raw material providers and maintains complete control over production with the latest technology machines for in-house manufacturing. It also operates tech-assisted warehousing and logistics to ensure timely delivery to customers.

“By reducing our reliance on fossil fuels through the use of biofuels and solar energy, we are significantly lowering our carbon footprint. Equally important is the well-being of our workers, and we are committed to maintaining a healthy work-life balance. We adhere to an 8-hour shift structure and offer a range of benefits to ensure a supportive and positive work environment, with a strong emphasis on mental health,” Anant states.

The company has its manufacturing facility in Bangalore and collaborates with several contract manufacturing units across India to expand its reach and capabilities.

Rapid Growth

According to Anant, the company has made big progress over the last 12 months, with growth exceeding 8x.

“This momentum has been incredibly encouraging, and we’re excited to continue building on it in the years to come. As the demand for sustainable solutions grows, we’re committed to scaling responsibly and staying focused on our mission,” he says.

New Offerings

Bambrew is actively working towards the continuous development of advanced meta-materials. It has been extensively researching materials such as Biophil, a home-compostable bioplastic alternative, while also exploring other renewable resources. These materials are designed to offer high performance while being environmentally friendly.

In August of this year, the company introduced a new category of rigid boxes that utilize Kappa boards produced from post-consumer recycled fibers. The product features components like non-animal-based glue, recycled paper cladding, plastic-free Biophil lamination, and plant-based inks. Each element of this product is designed to meet Bambrew's environmental goals and contribute to a fully sustainable manufacturing cycle.

“Additionally, we are actively developing alternative solutions for pharmaceutical packaging, as well as advanced barrier films for food packaging within the FMCG sector. While these are only a few examples, all our efforts are directed towards the broader aim of pushing the envelope of what’s possible within the realm of sustainability and delivering solutions that meet the highest standards of quality while supporting a greener, more sustainable transition into the future,” Anant concludes.

#Bambrew

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krishnaengineering25 · 4 months ago

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A Heavy-Duty slitter rewinder machine is an integral part of converting wide rolls into smaller widths of material with high accuracy. The heavy-duty type is meant to deal with tougher materials, processing those smoothly while maintaining the best quality.

the Heavy-Duty Slitter Rewinder Cylinder Machine cuts and rewinds materials such as paper, plastic films, laminates, and foils with unmatched precision. Krishna Engineering Works the reputed name worldwide as a manufacturer and exporter of industrial machinery-supplies the best Slitter Rewinder Machines with excellent durability, precision, and ease of operation.

#krishnaengineeringworks #slitter rewinder machine #machine #manufacturer #machinemanufacturer #industry #export #supplier #machinery #industrial #heavy duty slitter rewinder machine #packaging industry #paper machinery #paper industry

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no-stupid-questions-official · 8 months ago

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i laminated something and a small part of the edge is open. not from peeling, it just didnt seal. it was a small thing i laminated and i cut it out of the larger sheet, but when i cut it i guess i cut into an unsealed part of the plastic and now its open slightly.

would it be safe to run it through the laminator a second time? not using another sheet of plastic to laminate it, but just running the currently laminated item through the machine.

#question

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cashcountingmachinebybankomat · 11 months ago

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Bankomat Lamination machine

Laminators are essential devices used to apply a protective layer to paper and other materials, enhancing their durability and appearance. This article explores the various types of laminators, their applications, and considerations for selecting the right laminator for specific needs.

Types of Laminators

Pouch Laminators

Pouch laminators are the most common type found in homes and small offices. They utilize pre-sealed plastic pouches that contain a heat-activated adhesive. The document to be laminated is placed inside the pouch, which is then fed through heated rollers. This process melts the adhesive, bonding the plastic to the document, thus providing protection against wear, moisture, and fading. Pouch laminators are ideal for smaller projects, such as business cards, menus, and photos, and they are available in various pouch thicknesses ranging from 3 mil to 10 mil.

Roll Laminators

Roll laminators are designed for larger-scale projects and are commonly used in schools and print shops. These machines use rolls of laminating film, which are fed through heated rollers. Roll laminators are more efficient for high-volume lamination tasks and can accommodate larger documents. They are typically more expensive than pouch laminators and are not as portable due to their size and weight.

Cold Laminators

Cold laminators operate without heat, using adhesive-coated films instead. This method is beneficial for materials sensitive to heat, such as certain inks and papers. Cold laminators can range from simple manual devices to complex motor-driven machines, making them versatile for various applications, including signage and artwork.

Applications of Laminators

Laminators serve multiple purposes across different fields:

Education: Teachers use laminators to protect educational materials, such as worksheets and flashcards, ensuring they last longer and can be reused.

Business: Companies laminate documents like ID cards, menus, and marketing materials to enhance their professional appearance and longevity.

Art and Craft: Artists and crafters use laminators to preserve artwork and create durable projects that can withstand handling and environmental factors.

Choosing the Right Laminator

When selecting a laminator, several factors should be considered:

Document Size: Determine the size of the documents you will be laminating. Pouch laminators are suitable for standard sizes, while roll laminators can handle larger formats.

Volume of Use: Consider how often you will use the laminator. For occasional use, a pouch laminator is sufficient. For regular, high-volume tasks, a roll laminator is recommended.

Film Thickness: Laminating film thickness affects the flexibility and rigidity of the finished product. Pouch laminators offer a range of thicknesses, while roll laminators typically use thinner films.

User Accessibility: If multiple people will be using the machine, a roll laminator may be more appropriate for shared environments, whereas a pouch laminator is better suited for personal use.

Budget: Laminators vary significantly in price, with pouch laminators generally being more affordable than roll laminators. Consider not only the initial cost but also the ongoing costs of laminating supplies.

In conclusion, laminators are versatile tools that enhance the durability and presentation of various materials. Understanding the types of laminators and their applications can help users make informed decisions based on their specific needs and usage scenarios.

#cash counting machine #fakenotedetector #laminationmachine #cashdrawer #papershader #bankomatautomationprivatelimited

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chibikinesis · 11 months ago

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I'm finally getting serious about freshening up my table setup for cons and shows - ordered plastic cubes, got my little gacha machine, gonna work on some consistent signage to print and laminate, etc. But I'm also thinking of maybe making a logo and coming up with a proper name for my "business" might be helpful?

I guess I'm asking if a name/logo makes any difference to you guys when you see a table at a con or an event?

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invoitplastmachinery · 1 year ago

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High Speed Mixer Machine Manufacturer

High Speed Mixer Machine https://www.invoitplast.com/granules-mixer-machine/plastic/high-speed-mixer-machine/ Application Of High Speed Mixer Machine: To manufacture any Plastic components or product it is must require that plastic raw material will be moisture free to eliminate the defects like black dots, pins, holes etc in final component or product. So to eliminate this problems we’ve designed the best solution for that which is High Speed Mixer machine.

It is also used to preheat the raw material like LD , PVC, EWA, HDPE etc before inserting into Extrusion process. Industries Cattered : Blown film plant, Lamination Plant, Packaging Industries, PVC pipe Plant, HDPE pipe Plant etc.

#High Speed Mixer Machine

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adinathinternationalindia · 7 months ago

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Plastic LAMI Tube Filler

youtube

Plastic Tube Filler Machine (plastic tube filler and sealer) including Laminated tube filling and sealing machine is uses to fill all kinds of semi-viscous and viscous products into soft plastic or flexible compound tubes. This tube filler is an ideal machine for use in the pharmaceutical, chemical, cosmetic, foodstuff and other industries.

Tube filling machines are versatile machines, designed so as to fill viscous and semi viscous products such tube-filling-machine as ointments, cosmetics, toothpastes, adhesives, shaving creams etc. in plastic, laminated and metallic tubes. These machines are competent of handling special tube sizes and are also equipped with ‘No tube no fills’ feature almost similar to the functioning of vial filling machines. There is manual, automatic and high-speed tubes filling machines used in the pharmaceutical industry.

All machines conform to GMP standards. Speedy, simple & proficient changeover is the leading quality of the machines, which helps in responding to the faster-time-to-market era we live in. The optional equipment available with the machines adds to the versatility. Apart from LAMI Tube Filling Machine, we also produce Aluminum Tube Filling Machines. Easy to use and competitive price machines made us leading tube filler machine manufacturer in India.

#plastic tube filler and sealer #Laminated tube filling and sealing machine #tube filler #Tube filling machines #Youtube

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mellowstory · 2 years ago

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3 Beautiful Ways to Use Pressed and Dried Flowers | DIY Crafts You’ll Actually Keep!

I started working with dried flowers and pressed botanicals a few years ago, and it has taught me a few things.

Delicate dried flowers can burn or disintegrate in epoxy resin.

Glossy Mod Podge however much we love it, can make you cry (and even ruin your floral project).

Depending on your project, pressed flowers MUST be chosen as carefully as you would choose fabric, paper, or paint colors.

So how can you still work with these lovely mediums and create long lasting, archival art that you can be proud of? Read more to learn about 3 of the most botanical-friendly crafts.

Framed Glass Art

What you’ll need:

Double sided glass frame. (any size)I buy mine on Aliexpress or Amazon.

Clear glue, glossy mod podge, or a tape runner.

Pressed flowers

Scissors

How to make it:

Start by selecting your botanical specimens and arranging them in your frame. Use scissors to trim and refine your arrangement until it is to your liking.

Remove all of the flowers, and strategically place dots of clear glue on the inner glass. Wait until your glue becomes tacky. The time will depend on the type of glue that you’re using.

Tip: Test out the cure time by placing a few different sized glue dots on a plastic surface. See how long it takes for the glue to become more viscous and less runny.

Place the flowers onto the glass. Make sure to tack down all specimens with glue until they’re difficult to move. Allow the glue to dry completely before closing the glass frame.

Once dry, display your beautiful arrangement!

I love making smaller arrangements for office spaces and display shelves. These also make adorable secondary gifts in care packages.

Glass offers a more eco-friendly alternative to epoxy resin. Though I love working with resin, I’ve started to become more conscious and selective of my usage to creation ratio.

2. Floral Bookmarks

What you’ll need:

Pressed flowers. Preferably long stem flowers that press very flat such as fleabane and daisies. You can also use small flowers without stems.

Self or thermal laminating sheets.

Thermal laminator. (If using thermal lamination)

Scissors

Cricut Cutting Machine (highly recommended for a cleaner result) However, you can also create your own frames. Simply use two gift tags or rectangular pieces of paper. Measure and cut out another rectangle of your preferred size in the center of your paper. Use an X-Acto knife to make the cut out.

Kraft paper cardstock

Glue stick, or my personal recommendation, Kuretake Glue Pens. They will make less of a mess, and create a longer lasting bond on kraft paper.

How to make it:

If using a Cricut machine, start a new project in Cricut Design Space.

Search for “bookmark frame” in the “images” section.

Select a design you like the shape of. You can also create your own by “slicing” new shapes into existing templates.

Resize your design. Choose whatever size will accommodate the shape of your flowers.

Cut out your frames out on kraft paper.

Once you’ve cut out your design, remove half of the frames from the mat. Leave the other half on the mat. This will make keeping them flat easier once you’re ready to assemble everything.

Laminate your flowers. Be sure to use your frame as a guide to arrange them within the window. Leave an inch of space between each arrangement for cutting if you’re making more than one bookmark.

Cut around the flowers, leaving a bit of allowance for gluing them onto the frame. I never measure like I should. Just use the frame as guide to avoid cutting off too much laminating plastic. We will hide the ugly jagged cutting job later. 😅

Return to the mat and apply a generous layer of Kuretake glue to the entire surface of the frames still stuck to the Cricut mat.

Carefully place the laminated floral arrangement on the frame.

Apply another layer of glue around the edges of the lamination, and also on the other frame.

Place the second frame over one of the mat frames, and press down firmly. Tip: You can also place a book on top to keep them flat.

Let your bookmarks dry for about 20 minutes before adding your embellishments. I love using key charms, grommets, ribbons, or tassels.

Check out my inspo photos below! Get creative with decorating.

3. UV Resin Pendants

Before I started working with UV resin, I was told that it isn’t light fast. Which is true for most resins on the market. I’ve also heard that it yellows over time and that the UV light burns flowers.

These are all things that I’ve experienced working with flowers in UV resin. However, I’ve managed to make projects that have stayed glossy, clear, and beautiful for over 2 years now, and I want to share my tips and tricks!

Tip #1: USE a high quality UV resin such as the one from Counter Culture DIY.

Tip #2: AVOID using delicate flowers such as forget-me-nots, hydrangeas, larkspur, etc. If the petals are thin and delicate, they WILL become distorted or burn. Think florets, spaced petals, and small leaves.

Tip #3: USE opaque, strong, and VERY flat flowers such as pressed Violets, Chamomile, Fleabane daisies, Rosettes, Queen Anne’s Lace, and Baby’s Breath.

Tip #4: AVOID flowers with too many overlapping petals. These will trap air bubbles inside of your resin layers that tend to express during curing. They tend to cause very large holes and gaps.

What you’ll need:

Very high quality UV resin (My suggestion: Counter Culture DIY)

Cabochon bases or frame pendants

Barrier tape (if using a frame instead of cabochon base.)

Toothpicks to pop bubbles (I actually prefer using a sewing needle)

Light Curer such as a nail lamp. I use the Melody Susie 36W nail lamp from Amazon. Counter Culture DIY sells one specifically for their UV resin as well.

Pressed Flowers (My favorite seller on Etsy)

Optional: Colorants. I use mica powders, acrylic paints, and black and white resins from Counter Culture DIY (not sponsored, I wish!) These give your resin a background to stand out against.

Nitrile gloves

How to make it:

Start by applying a thin layer of UV resin to your base or taped frame. This will be the layer with color (if using pigments).

2. Pop any visible bubbles with a toothpick and cure the first layer for about 1-3 minutes.

3. Apply a thin dot of clear resin to the first cured layer. This will give your flowers something to stick to as you arrange them.

4. Once your flowers are arranged, apply a few strategic dots of resin around them to keep them in place. Cure the first thin layer without covering the flowers completely. Remember to pop bubbles!

5. Continue to add thin layers. Cure each layer for 1-3 minutes each. Repeat this process until your flowers are covered and your top coat has a domed appearance.

6. Finished! Avoid touching your project for several minutes until fully cooled. You don’t want fingerprints in your shiny top coat!

For more floral project ideas, check out my Pinterest below!

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nichromepackaging · 4 hours ago

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Eco-Friendly Agrochemical Packaging: How India’s Manufacturers Can Stay Ahead of Global Sustainability Trends

The rising agricultural demand and growing awareness of modern farming practices have led to the flourishing of the Indian agrochemical sector and increased export opportunities. However, this growth has come at a time when environmental sustainability is under strict global scrutiny. As agrochemical usage increases, so does the volume of packaging waste, prompting regulatory bodies and environmentally conscious consumers to challenge traditional packaging materials.

This paradigm shift is more than just reducing waste; it is about transforming the fundamental way in which agrochemicals are being packed, transported, and consumed. And the true essence of this evolution is Eco-friendly packaging, which has now become a necessity rather than a trend. Understanding this, the Indian manufacturers are also now being called upon to reimagine their packaging strategies and align themselves with the global sustainability benchmarks and standards.

Nichrome, a leading player in packaging innovation, stands at the forefront of this green revolution. Through our cutting-edge technology and intelligent design, we at Nichrome offer sustainable, future-oriented options for agrochemical packaging that don’t compromise on performance, safety, or cost-efficiency.

Impact of Agrochemical Packaging

Agrochemical packaging serves multiple vital functions, like ensuring safe storage and transport of chemicals, maintaining product integrity and facilitating proper dosage, all the while preventing environmental contamination. From pesticides to herbicides and insecticides to fertilisers, the right packaging can ensure that the chemical packed inside does its job without posing any risk to the handler, consumer, or the ecosystem.

However, many times the very material used for these purposes can often contradict the true sustainability goal. Single-use plastics, metal cans, and non-recyclable laminates dominate the market. While being effective in containment, these materials are difficult to dispose of responsibly. They contribute to landfills, leach toxins into soil and water, and in many cases are incinerated, releasing harmful emissions.

Challenges of traditional agrochemical packaging

Let’s delve into the most common challenges that come with it:

Environmental Damage: Plastics are not biodegradable and remain in the environment for centuries. Chemical container residues can leach into the soil, degrading soil fertility and polluting groundwater resources.

Health Hazards: Inadequate disposal of packaging and containers can expose humans and animals to harmful chemicals. Rural areas, with minimal awareness of safe disposal, are most vulnerable.

Logistical Issues: Conventional agrochemical packaging formats are often bulky, fragile, and not quite optimised for the diverse transportation conditions in India. It comes with issues like spillage, leakage, and breakage.

Regulation Compliance: As international pressure mounts, countries are strictly regulating the packaging of agrochemicals. Non-compliance may stall export prospects and lead to fines.

All these challenges highlight the need to rethink the materials we use and the machines we trust. And for forward-thinking manufacturers, it’s a chance to lead with conscience, competitiveness, and care.

The emergence of eco-friendly packaging solutions

As the world is shifting towards greener and cleaner practices, the agrochemical industry has found itself at a crossroads, where innovation has to meet intention. The shift to eco-friendly agrochemical packaging isn’t just a trend; it’s a transformation. From stricter regulations to growing consumer consciousness, the demand for eco-friendly packaging materials that don’t compromise on performance is higher than ever.

Let’s quickly explore some of the frontrunning solutions that are involved in shaping the Indian and global future of agrochemical packaging:

Biodegradable and Compostable Materials: Materials that are made from natural fibres or plant-based polymers decompose naturally and pose no long-term threat to the environment. Since they help in reducing carbon footprint, they are ideal for single-use formats.

Recyclable Laminated Films: High-barrier laminated films are designed to provide superior moisture, UV, and chemical resistance, ensuring product safety while being recyclable and reducing environmental impact.

Smart and Intelligent Packaging: By incorporating features like QR codes, tamper-evident seals, and temperature/moisture indicators, this type of packaging can enhance product traceability and transparency. This is crucial for regulatory compliance and quality assurance.

Flexible Packaging Formats: Formats like pouches, sachets, and bag-in-box reduce material usage, as they are easy to transport, enable exact dosing and generate less waste.

Sustainability in agrochemical packaging isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution; it is a layered journey of material innovation, smart systems, and forward-thinking design. Whether it is through compostable sachets, intelligent packaging lines, or high-barrier recyclable films, the future is being shaped today. And with eco-conscious consumers, strict global norms, and the Indian agricultural vision driving the push, there’s no better time for the agrochemical manufacturers to make the sustainable switch.

Nichrome’s role in sustainable agrochemical packaging

Eco-consciousness has now become a necessity, more than a trend. The Indian agrochemical manufacturers are also being called on to reinvent how they package, store and deliver. In this move to better and greener growth, Nichrome has also stepped in, and not just as a packaging machine manufacturer but also as a transformative partner.

With our over 40+ years of innovation and expertise, we are creating one big cohesive ecosystem tailored to the agrochemical industry that brings automation, precision, and sustainability together.

Our packaging machines and systems are designed to help you reduce waste, cut energy costs, and embrace environmentally friendly practices, whether you are packaging a small batch of liquid insecticide or high-volume fertiliser bottles. All of this is done without compromising on performance, quality or compliance.

Here is how our offerings are empowering agrochemical players in India to grow stronger while going green:

Vertical Form Fill Seal (VFFS) Machines: These systems are engineered for high-speed and high-precision packaging of granular and powdered fertilisers. With advanced sealing technology and minimal wastage, they reduce the environmental footprint of every batch.

Liquid Packaging Machines: We offer servo-driven liquid packaging machines that ensure accurate dosing, spill-proof filling, and minimal contamination risk for packaging pesticides and liquid fertilisers.

Secondary and End-of-line Automation: Our primary packaging effortlessly blends with secondary solutions like case packers, bundlers, and palletisers. These not only help in optimising storage and transport but also incorporate recyclable and biodegradable materials.

Sustainable Machine Design: We seamlessly integrate energy-efficient components, low-waste technology, and compact footprints in our machines and systems. Modular designs can cater to both large-scale operations and smaller agrochemical units in tier 2 and 3 markets.

From local fields to global exports, we at Nichrome are enabling a cleaner, smarter and greener packaging future for Indian agrochemicals. By integrating automation with sustainability, we ensure that the packaging process doesn’t just protect the product but also protects the planet.

Business benefits of sustainable packaging

For Indian agrochemical manufacturers, embracing eco-friendly packaging goes beyond environmental responsibility. It is about making a smart business move that ripples across operations, branding, and global outreach.

Here’s why going green makes strategic sense:

Regulatory Alignment: Sustainable packaging ensures compliance with both Indian and global regulations by minimising legal risks and opening export doors.

Cost Efficiency: Even though sustainable solutions come with higher investment options, reduced material usage, lower transport costs, and minimised waste disposal expenses emerge as the long-term saving benefits.

Brand Value: Brands that showcase eco-conscious practices earn greater trust and loyalty, in turn becoming a market differentiator.

Operational Resilience: Smart packaging solutions help in increasing shelf life, minimise damage, and ensure consistent performance, even in diverse climates.

Sustainable packaging is about a competitive edge for agrochemical brands that are ready to lead. It builds a future-ready brand image, opens new markets, and strengthens operational foundations. In this dynamic industry, change is the only constant. This has made green packaging an investment in resilience, reputation, and readiness. As regulatory landscapes evolve and consumers demand greater accountability, businesses that embrace sustainable packaging today will lead the agrochemical industry tomorrow.

Ideal audience for sustainable transformation

Now that we have spoken so much about sustainability no longer being just a “buzzword” in India’s agrochemical sector, you may start to wonder whether it is the right move for you. What can you stand to gain by adopting eco-friendly agrochemical packaging solutions?

So, let’s take a closer look at the key stakeholders who are best positioned for this sustainable shift:

Large-Scale Agrochemical Manufacturers

Global giants are no newbies to international criticism. As ESG (Environmental, Social, and Governance) standards become the norm for international trade and investor trust, transitioning to sustainable packaging is not just a compliance measure—it's a brand strategy. Our end-to-end packaging solutions, which are specifically tailored to address agrochemical packaging regulations, enable these producers to enhance traceability, decrease environmental footprint, and grow into environmentally sensitive markets with confidence.

Startups and MSMEs with Growth Aspirations

Small does not necessarily mean slow. Market leaders of the future are today's flexible mid-sized companies and agile startups. Our modular and scalable packaging machines are built for flexibility, allowing new players to adopt green practices from day one. From packaging pesticides to packaging fertilisers and liquid insecticides, green becomes a strength, not a liability.

Rural and Local Agrochemical Suppliers

India's tier 2 and tier 3 towns are fertile ground for demand for agrochemicals, and these suppliers require low-maintenance, robust, and easy-to-use packaging systems. Our robust machinery is capable of withstanding the rigours of rural supply chains, with consistent operating performance in the event of power supply fluctuations or the absence of infrastructure. It's sustainable transformation, made affordable.

Therefore, whether you are an MNC eyeing global exports, a homegrown startup building your green legacy, or a regional supplier ensuring that every drop counts, eco-friendly agrochemical packaging is your common road to future readiness.

Future of India’s green packaging revolution

India is positioning itself as a global agricultural powerhouse, and the way you package agrochemicals is going to be crucial in defining your sustainability narrative. Agrochemical packaging in the rural areas that often go overlooked must now evolve to ensure both user safety and environmental protection.

We at Nichrome are helping write this future by:

Designing cost-effective packaging machines specifically for fertilisers, pesticides, and micronutrients

Developing track-and-trace technology innovations to promote transparency and counter counterfeiting

Assisting local producers with training, technical services, and material advice to make a smooth shift to environmentally friendly practices.

Conclusion

Agrochemical packaging for sustainability is not a choice – it's a strategic necessity. From regulatory pressures to consumer expectations, the message is unequivocal: packaging needs to change. We respond to this challenge with smart, future-proof solutions that don't just deliver today's requirements but innovate for tomorrow's demands.By making a commitment to green packaging today, India's agrochemical players can ensure a cleaner, safer, and more profitable tomorrow. We are not only a machinery ally, but a forward-thinking mentor in your quest for green packaging excellence.

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