#alfred thorn

[trashyreptilian]

And here I am with one reference sheet done! Only a FUCK-ton more to go haha,,,

Reblogs are appreciated! :3

===============================================

Biography (long read):

-General Info-

Full Name: Alfred Thorn Age: 18 Height: 6'0'' ft Gender: Male Sex: Male Species: Human Homeplace: Huntstrail, Michigan (US) Romantic/Sexual Orientation: Greyromantic asexual

-Other Info-

Personality?: Seemingly a nonchalant type of guy, just living his life and avoids attracting attention. Often feeling like he doesn't fit in with society or any kind of community. He's not much for showing strong emotions, not near random people at least. Typical for him to carry around an "I don't care" attitude and crack jokes during bad times, but it also serves as a means of protecting himself. Being well enough taught that showing his vulnerable side to the wrong people, can possibly be used back against him. The calm exterior hides an emotionally struggling artist, who's suffered through past childhood abuse from his own mother. Sometimes that pain rises to the surface, and accidentally shows up through unexpected mood swings or frustrated/defensive outbursts. However, Alfred knows how badly he manages his own negative emotions. This kind of heated temper shows up when heavily provoked or felt like he's backed into a corner. He may seem like a loner, yet in actuality, he's got a few close select people he cares about a lot. And depends on, more than he'd like to admit. But solely because of that, he shows a strong willingness to go far to protect them. Even if it means he might somehow risk his own life in the process. Seen in these instances, his more assertive and bold-self comes out.

Thinks Before Acting?: It's mixed with him, either does or doesn't depending on the situation. Typically, he'll try thinking over his actions and words. Especially when he can sense a bad outcome if he's not careful. Though, he's far from being the most calculated guy.

Positive Traits?: Mellow, modest, imaginative, soft-hearted, protective and audacious.

Negative Traits?: Reserved, insecure, confrontational, defensive, self-destructive and resentful.

Way Of Speaking?: Can talk in two languages, the main one is American English. Has knowledge in speaking Spanish, but it's kinda subpar. Remembers mostly from the lessons he had in school. On the odd occasion only uses it around his closest friend, Simon, who encourages him to improve. His voice is calm and soft, with no particular accent. At times, loves using a mocking or sarcastic tone. (Headcanon voice: https://youtu.be/2rHRztFGOm8?t=1)

Occupation?: Works as a stock clerk at a furniture store. Assists with unpacking delivered items, organizing the stockroom, inspecting inventory and so forth. Also, he takes overnight shifts when possible for extra cash. Of course, the entire job itself is for financial stability. Otherwise, he cares little about it. Had hoped to get into some kind of art career instead, possibly becoming a cartoonist. Sadly, he's never gotten such an opportunity as he grew up. Didn't help that he lacked complete confidence, and still does to this day. So it all remains but a little fantasy he thinks about.

Powers/Skills?: With Alfred being human, don't expect any overpowered abilities like how demons and angels have. However, in his very rare case, having a supernatural being, more precisely a simulacrum, for a parent did unexpectedly help him improve physically, and made him able to defend himself. At a younger age of sixteen, he was gifted his first weapon which was a pistol Glock 19. With help from his father, he trained in remote areas. Shooting useless items that were used as targets. Now, he's well-practiced enough in using it properly, discreetly carrying it when out at nighttime. Of course, not limited to just a pistol. He's also got a metal bat safely tucked away in his bedroom. But for as long as he's known, anything can be a weapon. In a fight, he'll manage some inventive ways to beat someone up. Not exactly a person with a strong-build, yet he makes up for it in endurance. Fairly fast when running, most likely to outrun anyone. The type of guy to pick his fights. Besides all that, survival skills. Learned a few tricks throughout all the times he's gone out camping, moderately skilled living in the wilderness. Particularly good at starting a fire. Maybe a little too good.

Hobbies?: Main hobby is drawing, pretty much remained so since he was a kid. His art style is very stylized, expressive and exaggerated. Taken inspiration from his favorite animated shows and movies. He'll usually use a regular sketchbook with a pencil and pen to draw. But he dabbles in other unique methods like graffiti, and pastel art. A more recent past time is using a camcorder. What he chooses to record is random. Can either be a quick recording of his father’s cat, or footage of activities and ramblings. For whatever reason, he just finds it relaxing. Not to mention, it's his way of better preserving memories besides taking photos. Something else he does to unwind is watching movies and TV series, or playing video games. His favorite genres are horror and thriller. On the lighter side, he loves all stuff that's animated, comedy and adventure fiction. Also, collects merchandise related to his favored media. Considers it a luxury, so he's not gung-ho about it. While these are things he typically does alone. Camping and exploring abandoned places, are done together with his dad. Since they can't hang out together in broad daylight, they always go out during the night. Their activities start regularly, but sometimes end in some sort of chaos when they get overboard. With property ending up mysteriously ruined. Just a not so subtle clue into what exactly happens on their trips.

Habits?: Often smokes and drinks. The first one is easier for him to keep controlled, the other one is an addiction. Possibly inherited from his mother's side of the family. He's aware of that, yet doesn't seem to grasp how poorly it could affect him in the future. Both substances are used when stressed or annoyed, but gravitates towards the alcohol mostly. An insomniac, his sleep schedule has been, and still is, irregular. Tends to be active out of nowhere during later hours, and taking overnight shifts doesn't help him. All coupled together, it's easy to imagine his self-care is kinda non-existent. Not to say he's lacking in it, it's out of sheer tiredness and apathy. Irritability is a rather serious tendency due to trauma, and a main fueling reason for the reliance on bad tendencies. It only worsens when experiencing a chain of obstacles, no matter if minor or severe. There's no clear pattern as he can seem fine in the moment, yet takes but one nudge to tip him off the edge. Resulting in sudden outbursts, causing to shut himself off from others.

Relationships? (Simplified): Alfred's dad has remained an integral part of his life. Who in fact, happens to be a simulacrum from Hell, named Him. It's been the only figure he's ever looked up to and known as family. Same demon was originally supposed to replace his actual biological father. In a rather malicious, literal sense. That never happened, as the target left his family behind during the early years of Alfred's childhood before anything transpired. Then living with an abusive mother got him in a worse vulnerable state. So getting attached to something inhuman, but caring, shouldn't be surprising. Their steady bond continued while no one else had a clue on any of it. Entering his young teenage years, Alfred was unphased about his own father figure not being exactly human, once Him revealed so. Despite the few times he had to see or hear it lashing out onto other members of its own species, he never seemed disturbed by its more violent actions. Him's raw wrathful nature is no secret, for sure. He looks past as it being over-protective since so far, he's only seen it attack out of defense for the both of them. Many times he has wished to be as reliable, strength-wise. Since Him's the only father, best friend, and role-model he's ever had, he holds it up in high regard. Alfred would go to Hell and back for it. But the relationship is far from perfect, both struggle a lot with communication. Opening up emotionally is hard especially. For Him, it's worse. As they say: like father, like son. They stay silent about their relationship, for safety's sake and to avoid unwanted attention. Nowadays, they live together in a little run-down apartment. Finally secure, in a place they can call home.

Interacting with a simulacrum for nearly his whole childhood didn't make Alfred the most extroverted person. After frequently having trouble socializing, he gave up trying to befriend people his age. At some point, he simply preferred hanging about on his own. However, one person managed to start a friendship with him, Simon Belrose. A new student that had joined the same high-school, and class, as Alfred. They were both young teens, around the same age, when they first met. His outgoing and amicable personality had Alfred spooked, he reasonably assumed that he'd be left alone by him. Having not much thought about the new guy, becoming friends with him was even less on his mind. Up until they both had an interaction, in which Simon had shown genuine interest in his art. While the compliments were validating for Alfred, he was wary of the other anyway. Took a bit to get acquainted properly. Over the years, they've grown a lot closer as friends. But Alfred still remains secretive on a lot of stuff happening in his personal life. Usually for understandable reasons, yet Simon would appreciate it if they were more open with one another. Nonetheless, they get along pretty great. Both admire certain qualities the other has, that of which they don't themselves. They enjoy pissing each other off until someone breaks first. Random screaming matches over absolutely nothing happen frequently. And their silly scuffles always get hectic.

Moving back onto otherworldly beings. Due to Alfred's long bond with a simulacrum, a certain figure grew interested in finding out more about the two. One way or the other. After a major event, involved with a rather unpleasant (putting it lightly) "person". A series of unusual circumstances followed suit for Alfred. Which all led to meeting a theraangel, called Xanthan. When their first proper interaction happened, there was nerve-wracking tension. He wasn't sure what to make of them, or what the angel's true intentions were. Heavy convincing was needed to earn Alfred's trust. To his own surprise, a mutual respect developed as they bonded over certain grievances each had. Later on a different date, Xanthan becomes his guardian angel. Part of a deal made with his father, Him. Solely due to this guardianship, they find more things in common. Eventually gaining a deeper understanding of each other. Their shared connection with art helps them be more open and start an eventual friendship. Alfred slowly views them as a sort of mentor. Maybe even as another father figure. Seeing how he appreciated Xanthan's longer living experience, once he felt comfortable he'd seek out advice from Xan alone on the rare occasion. Very few people manage to break down all the high sturdy walls that angel puts up, Alfred managed to be one of those people. He proved to be pretty insistent in making that guy a close part of his life.

Speaking of enemies, there's no one in particular who really fits in with this definition for Alfred. Besides perhaps some bitter students from his high-school that he got into fights with, or his mother and sister he has distanced himself away from. Still none of them fit such a defining strong label as "enemy". As he just wants to forget about these people entirely. Yet, that doesn't mean he won't make adversaries in the future.

================================================

General rules for all of my FCs and OCs:

-While I'm fine with getting inspired by my work, please do not just steal the designs. -I am uncomfortable with my characters being unknowingly shipped with other people's characters. -Fanart is all well, great and welcomed! As long as it isn't sexual. I'm fine with gore but please, keep my characters away from your own sexual material.

[hikaruchen]

Duty of a King.

INPRNT

[acotarmemes]

ACOTAR (and DC?) poll // bat boys

This one goes out to my homies who are in the DC Comics fandom and the ACOTAR fandom.

[thingsasbarcodes]

Batman: Caped Crusader 1x08 - Nocturne

[klein-sodor-bahn]

Alfred, the loathed king of thorns

Here’s a little gift for @projectanimations

I have wanted to draw your human Alfred for a while but your post today finally pushed me over the edge. Shirtless men are a secret specialty I developed before coming to the TTTE fandom. I decided to go for the thorn theme because he’s arguably the thorniest rose ever. And also a bit evil *cough cough* Anyways I hope you like your man this way.

[randomdoodlesgobrr]

Doodles for a fic I'm writing. A Dance Before the Storm

Have some doodles while you're still here.

Meanwhile...

Also, does anyone have any names for Ivy's wyvern? I was thinking Rose, but I want to hear your ideas.

Have a good day!

[fantasywritten]

@ner0tic (continued from here)

THE WAY UHTRED SPOKE TO HIM filled Alfred with three emotions. The first was anger; HOW DARE HE speak to his king in such a manner? The second was disappointment; once again, Uhtred was proving to be irrational and stubborn. The third was guilt, because even in his self-righteousness, Alfred knew there was some truth to his words. THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD was on his shoulders, so he shared some of that burden with Uhtred, whether the other man liked it or not. HE’D SWORN AN OATH, and he would do well to keep it. He deserved to be treated better, yes, but it was almost impossible to trust a man who refused to accept the existence of the one true God. Addressing his anger first, Alfred’s gaze became condescending, staring upon the Dane, for he was no Saxon. “You will do well to remember to TREAT ME WITH RESPECT. I am your king.” Next, the disappointment. “Is that what you believe, Uhtred? That my desire to bring people together and bring peace to the land by forming a united England is SELFISH?” And last, the guilt. Alfred would downplay it, of course, but he needed Uhtred to know that his words were ACKNOWLEDGED, that Alfred was listening to him. “I understand your frustrations. But you MUST have patience. I am well aware of all that you have done for Wessex…” And I am grateful. Somehow, Alfred couldn’t bring himself to say such things. “If there is anything more you would like to say, you may say it… RESPECTFULLY.”

[thievinghippo]

another placeholder post!

[brucewaynehater101]

Tim with hannaki disease

spending his childhood choking on flowers

Barely able to breathe rejection after rejection

Jason is attacking him at the tower and he can’t stop coughing out flowers

when dick gives Damian Robin, Tim leaves the cave spitting out petals

imagine if he died of suffocation during the Bruce quest

Fuck. I love hanahaki disease.

Tw: death, blood, asphyxiation, fictional disease, dead body description, gore

For those of y'all unaware, it's a completely fictional disease where having unrequited love results in the person growing flowers in their chest. It's usually romantic, but I prefer the platonic versons (especially child-parent angst, holy fuck).

I've seen two types of hanahaki:

The love is actually unrequited

The person only perceives the love as being unrequited

Either way, the progression is as follows:

Person coughs up one petal

They start coughing up more and usually blood

They cough up an entire blossom

They die trying to cough up the entire flower (blossom and stem)

There are four outcomes to hanahaki disease, depending on what rules you are working with:

Love becomes requited

Person dies

They have a surgery to remove their ability to have feelings

They lose (voluntarily or not) their memories about their unrequited love

Some people play with flower meanings of the petals being coughed up. I fucking love those versions so much.

Let's get into the AU! The timeline is mine to fuck around with, so excuse any non-canon progressions.

~~~~

Tim has chronic hanahaki disease from his parents. They visit often enough to quell the worst symptoms and mitigate the damage, but they don't stick around enough (or show enough constant attention) for the petals to go away.

Janet once asked Tim if he'd like to get the surgery. Tim said no. Janet respected that choice and never asked again even though Tim was like nine at the time. It also becomes a fear of his. He wakes up in cold sweat at the phantom idea of just not being able to love anyone. It terrifies him, even if the feeling of asphyxiation is the only other option.

When Janet dies and Tim becomes Robin, he does his best to hide his condition from Bruce. It worsens, from the way Tim adores and loves the Bats, but Tim manages.

It's a rough few years, but slowly, the ice begins to melt. The Waynes show Tim more and more affection. YJ also shower him in so much care to the point that Tim has days of uninterrupted breathing.

It's a novel but welcome feeling.

Jack waking up from the coma complicates shit. His condition worsens again, but it's manageable.

Until Tim's sixteenth birthday.

The teen will never admit, but that test nearly fucking killed him. Bruce never finds out how close he was to killing his Robin, but Tim knows. He'll never forget how thorns scraped along his throat at the idea that he can't trust anyone. He'll never rid himself of the intimate knowledge of how blossoms taste in his mouth and the sickly sweet smell of blood mixed with flower petals.

Tim has to quit Robin, for his safety, health, and as a "fuck you" to Bruce, but realizes he can't keep in contact with Dick, Alfred, or Barbara without it. He can't contact his team.

He has to go back, so he does.

Tim's not sure if it's better or worse that Bruce didn't know about the hanahaki. If the man did, would he still have done the test? Due to him never showing remorse or guilt for his actions, the teen doesn't know.

The question pesters him even when his dad finds out about Robin.

It plagues him through Steph becoming Robin and dying.

It festers into his bones when, while wearing those same damn colors, he hears his father die.

That is one or many reasons "Uncle Eddie" was created.

Tim can't quite trust Bruce, but he finds himself still loving the father-like figure in his life. He finds himself forgiving him. He leans into the hair ruffles, shoulder pats, and gruff words of affection. He lets himself be loved.

Then, an undead asshole in a gleaming red bucket comes to kick Tim's ass. The teen can't help but laugh at the way his life bounces between breathing and dying at the drop of a hat.

He's just barely able to hide the flowers from both Red Hood and the Titans.

A little assassin appears, and each attack brings a petal.

Each new death hampers Tim's ability to breathe. Tim tries, but it's so fucking hard. How is he supposed to live without them?

With the ticklish scrape of petals, Tim doesn't think he's supposed to.

Bruce isn't dead. Tim knows, with every fiber of his being, that Bruce can't be dead. Tim won't survive if he is.

Even if Tim loses everything, even if these damn fucking flowers consume him, at least his death will have a purpose.

That's what he tells himself as he lies in a pool of blood beneath the stars. The sand at his back is soft in comparison to the stem piercing his throat and tongue. The sound of his choking is joined by the bubbling wheezing of Pru.

Ra's peers down at the body already set with rigor mortis. Tim's jaw is pried apart by a bouquet of yellow carnations dripping in blood.

The demon head hums at the sight, a dangerous gleam to his eyes. With the flick of a hand, two assassins grab the young detective's corpse. The other three bodies are taken as well.

Tim's eyes fling open as the teen gasps for air.

It's wrong. It's wrong. It's all wrong. He's empty.

He's surrounded in green.

Oh fuck.

For awhile, Tim just soaks in the soft expansion of his lungs. He marvels at their capability.

He can't remember a time when he's been able to breathe so easily. It's enchanting and allots the teen a giddy sort of relief.

Through the destruction of both the Spiders and the LoA, he finds himself taking small moments to just breathe. It's a simple joy he can't help but partake in.

Tim logically knows there's a price. His breaths cost him, though he doesn't know their price. He should be dead and buried within the flowers.

He is neither.

He is alive. He is free (from the petals. It takes him a little bit to become free of Ra's).

Tim brushes aside these valid and alarming concerns to focus on his goals: escape, take down Ra's, and derail whatever retaliation occurs.

So that's what Tim does. He ignores the insistent sense of wrongness and focuses on the task at hand. He coordinates his friends and family. He faces down Ra's. He gets kicked out of a window.

With a grim smile, his body goes lax and his eyes flutter shut

He's done.

When Tim springs up from unconsciousness, Steph's voice reassures him he's safe. She tells him he's in the batcave.

The tension to bleeds from his body as Damian mutters a demand. Tim's eyes dart from Robin to Batgirl to Batman (Dick) to Alfred.

That sinking feeling of wrongness returns.

Dick's eyes are trained on the teen as he asks Tim, "How did you know I'll be there to save you?"

It's obvious the man is worried. It's obvious he's so fucking glad he caught his younger brother.

The lie falls from Tim's lips as smooth as any truth, "You're my brother, Dick. You'll always be there for me."

Dick's face brightens with fond relief.

Tim watches. He observes the reactions of his older brother. He catalogs the effect of his words on the man he's admired and loved for thirteen years.

He notes all of this.

And he feels nothing.

[crazydreamerspwn]

More of the Varaan family, this time with one of the main characters, Alphonse Varaan (top left) his two sons and their mothers.

[deadsetobsessions]

To the mf who had my house before me, if you see me on the street, turn around and run the other way. Because if I see you, know that it’s going to be on sight. Who even puts tile like that?? Anyways, I'm kind of sick, so that's why I've been kind of inactive.

But good news (ish) I got me a house! Yay! Let’s hope I can keep it. To celebrate, y’all can have this! And a few chapters! So technically this is a chapter update post?

——

Danny’s most favorite thing to do with Alfred Pennyworth is groundskeeping. While he might not be Sam, Danny could still appreciate the serenity and beauty of nature.

“Ow, fuck!”

“Master Danny, please refrain from using explicit language.”

“Sorry, Alfred. I got stabbed.”

“Oh dear. Will you be needing a bandage?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I think…” Danny hummed, peering closer at the reddish brown thorns sprouting from the ground. “That might be the rose bush?”

Alfred paused his snipping, turning around and coming closer to inspect the plant. “How peculiar. It seems to have grown a branch beneath the soil.”

In unison, Danny and Alfred lifted their heads to look at the rose bush, innocuously sitting three yards away.

“Huh. Weird.”

“Indeed.”

The door to one of Bruce Wayne’s many gardens, all opulently gothic to hide their vigilante disturbances, opened. The hinges swung without a single creak, as Alfred the butler always carried WD-40 on his person and a squeaky hinge in this mansion was an affront to his professionalism.

"Hey, guys! Whatcha doing?" Duke greeted, followed by Jason.

"Gardening! You wanna help?"

"Nah, I'm a Gothamite, not Poison Ivy, man. I don't do grass." Duke replied, plopping down on one of the lawn chairs with his drink. "But I can totally give you moral support... from over here."

Danny snorted. "What about you, Jason?"

Jason shrugged. "Sure, what are we doing?"

"There's a rose bush that grew all the way over here."

"Woah, crazy."

"Indeed, Master Jason. I shall go get the shovels."

"Okay, Alfie," Jason absently agreed, focused on finding where else the rose bush had grown to. "You wanna keep the bush, right?"

"That would be preferable."

"Duke, can't-" Jason paused, throwing a quick look at Danny before visibly changing tracks. "Can't you get us some drinks?"

"Kitchen's right over there, Jason." Duke pointedly leaned back and took a sip.

Danny piped up. "I'll get it! What did you want, Jason?"

----

Two hours later, covered in all manners of dirt and blades of grass, Jason and Danny sat back to survey the messed up garden.

"You sure we can't hire Ivy to move the plant somewhere?"

"She'd just make it worse," Jason grumbled.

"You guys can do it!" Duke cheered, scrolling through his phone and cherry picking the most hilarious pictures of Jason and Danny to send to the group chat. He chose the selfie, where he was grinning into the camera as Jason fell on his ass as Danny pulled up a long section of thorns.

Duke gets nailed in the face with two clumps of grass from his disgruntled brothers.

"I believe it is time for a shower." Alfred Pennyworth smiled, content. Days like these made him glad that his grandchildren found their way back.

[gffa]

"You hold it against Damian, who sat across from me, helpless, as it happened. You hold it against Richard, who was not himself to help you fight Bane. You hold it against Selina for make you feel it was not safe to come home for a moment longer." This conversation still hits like a truck, because this is Bruce's vision of Alfred when he's been drugged and trying to get his act together, this is Bruce acknowledging the things he's buried in his heart and hasn't let go of yet and it strikes me so hard that these are the people who were most involved in the story around Alfred's death--and then Dick, too. Who wasn't involved at all. Yet is still brought up as one of the jagged pieces of glass still lodged in Bruce's heart. It's so striking that Alfred-as-Bruce's-mouthpiece says that he holds it against Dick for not being there, because isn't that exactly the issue? That Bruce holds onto Dick as the one he always, always counts on for support. That, even when Dick is an amnesiac who doesn't remember anything of his life, some part of Bruce is still relying on him to be there. He's not involved in this at all, but Bruce still makes him part of this, in a way that doesn't apply to Jason or Tim or Cass or Babs or Cass or Duke. That it doesn't matter where Dick is or where he goes or how little he's involved, when it comes to these deeply personal things, like the death of one of his family, Bruce cannot let him go. Dick is the one who knows him the deepest, who Bruce relies on to be a constant rock in the raging torrents of their life, who Bruce needs in a way that I think only Alfred ever really matched. So much of that was from those early years, when it was just Bruce, Dick, and Alfred, they forged each other, they laid each others' foundations in this life. Yeah, Bruce was doing this for awhile before Dick came along, but it wasn't until that hurricane child barged into his life that Bruce really became who he is now, that he found any kind of balance in this life at all. And Bruce has never let go of that, he struggles to accept that Dick is an adult in a separate city and with his own priorities now, but some part of him will always have the deepest rockbed of: Alfred and Dick were the ones who knew him the clearest and who would always pull him out of the dark. Others will find their way into the twisting paths of Bruce's heart, Damian and Selina are part of this, he has equally thorn-filled dynamics with Tim and Jason, but, oh, Dick and Alfred. Those two are the ones Bruce used to build himself upon their framework. They will always be at the core of him, even when they're no longer physically there.

[youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms]

Love Thorns All Over This Rose

Words: 2577

Warnings: angst, talks of a miscarriage, body image, talks of difficulty staying pregnant, mention of what is technically a still-birth, depression, suicidal thoughts, self-medicating, accidental suicide attempt (this is will make sense if you read it), probably poor writing and OOC characters but whatever

DC Masterlist Main Masterlist Join My Taglist

IF THERE IS A WANT FOR A PART 2, I WILL DO ONE, IF NOT, THEN THIS STAYS AS A ONE-SHOT!

I mention Y/N goes to a church to pray, it is described more as a Christian or Catholic one (I really don't know the difference and I apologize) as she lights a candle before she prays. If you wish to skip that part, it starts with "Y/N hurried up the steps of the Cathedral." and ends with "Y/N nodded silently before turning and walking out.". I do also mention that the reader themselves aren't very religious (but grew up with it so reverted back to old practices to see if it helped)

Alfred is also dead in this (don't ask why he just is) so that's why he isn't here!

The POV here isn't really consistent. It jumps between being with the Batkids, Bruce, and Y/N's. I tried to make it flow though so hopefully that works!

 I feel like I should mention:

Bruce and Y/N's ages don't matter (I'm not in the mood to deal with that) but; Dick is 31 (and married to Kori but that's not too important), Jason is 25, Tim is 22, Damian is 15, Cass is 24, and Steph is 23

I also am not too familiar with Duke, so that is why he isn't there much. Mostly just mentioned

Anywho, enjoy

Love Z <3

7:25 AM

The kids watched as Y/N was silent as she put the plate down in front of Bruce's empty seat. They all noted how fake her smile looked as she looked up at them. "Alright, I will see you kids later!"

They all watched as she walked out of the dining room and once they knew she was out of earshot, they started talking.

"Did she eat anything?"

It was Jason, he had been the last down (well...outside of Tim) so he only saw her putting the plates down and ushering them to eat.

Dick shook his head, he had seen her the entire time she made breakfast. Fully clothed, which was unusual as she usually just made breakfast in her pajamas with her hair occasionally brushed. But not today. Today her hair was done, makeup was on, she was dressed as if she was working.

But everyone in that house knew she was still off after what happened, even though it had been 3 months since the incident.

Damian flicked at his food, "Ummi was supposed to take me to school today."

Dick smiled at Damian, "I can, Dami. Mom is just...preoccupied."

Damian hmphed and continued to play with his food. Dick was concerned for his younger brother. He knew that while he himself was close with the woman he had allowed to become his mother, Damian was so much more as she was really the only person who never got mad at him or made fun of him when he didn't understand something.

Jason abruptly stood, "Since mom isn't here, I'm just gonna go."

Dick raised a brow, "Really Jason? You're just gonna leave after--"

"Hey, we've been over this before Dick. I come because mom asks me to." He shrugged as he put his jacket on, "Plus, I'm going to follow her."

Stephanie snorted, "She'll kill you when she catches you."

"If she catches me. If."

Steph hummed, "My bets are on she will. Y/N is always on the lookout, especially after..." She faded and looked down, regret piling up inside her as she thought of what she was about to say.

"Either way, tell us what you find Jason."

He nodded to Dick's request before heading out the side door in the kitchen. Dick tapped his hand on the table for a minute before speaking; "I'm gonna go check on dad, Damian go get everything ready and I'll meet you at the entryway, alright?"

The eldest stood, placing a gentle hand on the youngest shoulder before heading to the stairs. Dick was concerned. He had never seen his mother so...shut off. Pretending like everything was alright even though everyone who saw her could tell that she was so close to jumping off of a bridge.

The closest that he had seen her to this was back when Jason died and she broke up with Bruce. But even then, she didn't avoid things that she had already planned. Even then, she stayed committed to things.

Plus, Dick knew she had no plans today. Well...no plans except for the fact that beforehand this would have been her due date. And he knew that that was most likely what had off-set her so badly.

Dick didn't even knock before opening the door to Bruce's study. He was even speaking before his father even looked up from his computer. "Have you talked to mom?"

Bruce raised a brow, "What?"

"Mom." Dick crossed his arms, "When was the last time you and her had a real conversation?"

Bruce shrugged, "I'm not sure." He looked at Dick oddly, "What are you going on about?"

Dick let out a hard sigh, "You two are married, it is your job to take care of her. Goddammit Bruce!" He threw his hands up in anger, "You know what? Nevermind, I'm not...I'm not even going to try."

He angrily turned and walked out of the room. He didn't even understand why he even thought that talking to Bruce would help. He just walked down the stairs and remembered his promise to get Damian to school. Trying to hide the anxiety he had that he didn't know what exactly his mom was doing.

--------

9:09 AM

Jason watched Y/N walk out of the convenience store all the way in Blüdhaven. From where he was, he couldn't see what she had bought, but the moment he saw her go into the store, he had messaged Tim to watch her bank account. To watch what she was purchasing. Something felt...off as he watched her.

Jason knew that after the...accident, Y/N had been hard to reach. To talk to. He knew that she and Bruce hadn't been sleeping in the same bed since that argument he had accidently heard them having around 3 weeks after everything happened. So 4 weeks ago.

Granted...from what he had heard, it wasn't even a fight that they had had. Mostly just words being thrown at the other. Words that Jason never thought that he would hear either one say to the other. Words that he never told any of his siblings that he heard. All out of fear that one of them would panic. And while sure, he had a disdain for Tim and Damian, that didn't mean he would ever let either of them know what he had heard.

Jason wasn't sure how long he had been watching her just sit in the car before Tim finally texted him a list of what Y/N had bought in the past week. And considering Jason had seen her previous bank records for a week, it was a sure red mark with how short it was.

Tim

In the past week she's gotten a lot of sleeping pills. That's basically all that she has gotten. That plus energy and pain pills. Duke is thinking she's self-medicating again

Jason sighed as he pocketed his phone when he saw his mom driving out of the parking lot. He kept a safe distance behind her as he followed her on her drive back to Gotham.

--------

12:15 PM

Y/N hurried up the steps of the Cathedral. Trying not to make a misstep and fall as well as trying not to draw attention to herself. She closed the umbrella over her head as she walked in. Placing it in the small holder, she brushed the front of her outfit as her heels clicked on the ground when she walked down the long hall.

Last time she was there was for her mothers funeral last year. Last time she had walked up and grabbed the larger candle to dip down and light the smaller one. Her heart pounded in her chest as she kneeled, words swimming through her head and mumbling off her lips.

She herself was never very religious, but having grown up that way, she wondered if praying like she did as a child would work. Praying that things would get better and that she would get better.

She shakily did the cross on her before standing and wiping the tears that had silently fallen away from her cheeks. She turned and started to make her way out of the church when she heard a voice call out her name:

"Mrs. Wayne! We were not expecting you here today, is everything alright?"

Y/N slowly turned to face one of the Nuns, a small, fake, smile on her face. "Oh yes, everything is alright Sister. Just came here to pray for a moment. I haven't in such a long time."

The nun nodded, "Very well, I hope the Good Lord hears your prayer and makes it happen."

Y/N nodded silently before turning and walking out. She grabbed her umbrella before opening the door and walking out. She practically ran back to her car, wanting to get in before anyone saw her out.

But Cass and Steph did. They watched her speed back to her car as they sat in the cafe across the way. Stephanie shook her head, "She never goes there. Especially not since her mothers deaths."

Cass nodded as Steph continued; "Something is seriously going on with Y/N. Maybe something else has happened that we don't know."

"She's been deteriorating for the past 4 weeks."

Steph raised a bow and inquired, "4 weeks?" Cass nodded, "Huh...weird, that's around a week after she came home from the hospital." She grabbed her phone and started typing in the groupchat that only held the kids (Damian not included):

Steph

when did Bruce disappear for a few days after Y/N came home?"

It didn't take long for Tim to respond

logs say he left 35 hours after she got home and came back 83 hours later why?

Cass

She's been slowly getting worse sense then

Jason

I overheard them arguing around 3 weeks after everything happened and I know they haven't been sleeping in the same room since then. And I'm not sure how important this is; but Tim checked her bank account and she bought different pills so me, him, and Duke think she's medicating again. Or that she's going to start again.

Cass and Steph looked at each other, concern and worry was on their faces as they read Jason's last message. Something started unnerving them as they thought of the things she could possibly do if she was going to start medicating again.

----

3:25 PM

Y/N looked at her body in the mirror. Her hands came to lay on her stomach. Just like she did before. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she stared at her flatter stomach. She breathed shakily as her hands fell down to her sides.

Why?

Was all she ever asked.

Why me? Why did this happen to me?

She was so confused. She had always been good. Done everything to be a good person. But yet she still had that happen to her. Was she just not meant to be a mother?

Of course...she was one. She was a mother to 4 amazing boys and 1 beautiful girl. But still...it was different. Yes, those 5 children were hers, but that one. That singular one that she had carried for nearly 7 months had meant so much to her. Especially after being told time and time again it wouldn't happen.

It wasn't even the first time it had happened. She had had miscarriages before...but that wasn't what it was this time. The kidnapping. Bruce and the kids had found her after 2 days. The emergency c-section to save the baby.

But she knew. Of course she knew. She knew it had died.

Her baby girl. She had died before she even got the chance to live.

Y/N shakily breathed as she grabbed one of the bottles from the counter. She had thought it was the pain medication. But it hadn't been.

Sleeping meds.

Ever since it happened she had hardly been able to sleep. Nightmares of what happened still plagued her mind. Bruce yelling at her still echoed in her brain. Those...twisted words he said echoed inside of her.

She had popped a few in her mouth before dry-swallowing them and getting into the bath she had started earlier. The hot water felt like it was searing her skin, but she didn't care. She wondered if maybe she did this enough, whoever was above would forgive her of her sins and let her keep a pregnancy.

She wasn't sure how long she had stayed in the water before it became difficult to keep her head above water. Her body just felt so heavy. She wondered what pain meds she had grabbed at the store. She couldn’t remember them making her feel this way before. After a few moments of struggling to keep her head up, she felt her body sink down and under the water. But even as she felt water rush into her nose and fill her lungs, she couldn't bring herself to move and get out.

She just accepted her fate.

----

3:30 PM

Bruce sat in his office, a bad feeling settling in his stomach. Something was telling him to check on Y/N. See if she was alright. He knew she had returned around 20 minutes ago, the security cameras had caught her walking in.

He carefully stood from his desk and walked out of his office. He walked down the oddly quiet halls of the manor. A small feeling of pain and guilt started to eat at him as he got closer to the guest room she had been staying in. He knew she was struggling. He knew that she needed him today. But he just...couldn't.

He was selfish. He knew this.

He knew he was so goddamn selfish. Caring about his own feelings rather than helping his wife. She had been the one to physically go through everything. She had been the one to bear that trauma.

He had been so incredibly selfish since she had come home from the hospital. He had even begun to wonder why she even stayed in the manor.

But as he opened the door to the guest room, unrest settled inside him as he saw she wasn't there but the bathroom door was open. It was silent. He had known his wife long enough to know she never was silent in the bathroom. She almost always had music playing.

He pushed the bedroom door further open as he walked further in. Anxiety started to reach a breaking point as he walked into the bathroom.

And time felt like it moved in slow-motion as he saw her state. Her knees bent out of the water, her head under. He saw the three bottles of pills on the counter. He saw the open one read sleep on them. He ran over to the tub, grabbing under her arms and pulling her out.

He bent down, trying to listen for a heartbeat. He felt like his own heart stopped as he heard nothing. Not even a faint thump of one. He quickly moved to her side and started CPR.

Everything still felt like it was moving slower than it was as he pushed down on her sternum. Tears gathered in his eyes as he repeatedly slammed down onto her. As he breathed into her mouth. He didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time he finally had gotten the CPR to work. She began to cough profusely, water spluttering everywhere. He sobbed as he heard her shallow breaths break through the air.

He heard the noise of Dick's voice breaking. "Mom?"

He looked at him, seeing both him and Damian staring at the scene in front of them. Staring as their father held their mother in his arms. As tears fell from his eyes, he pleaded for them to call 911.

It was with shaky hands that Dick did it. His words sounded choked back, he kept stuttering. Trying to say what he was supposed to but his mind was running at a million miles and and half a mile a second at the same time. Everything felt fuzzy and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. All that he knew was that he walked in on his dad doing CPR on his mom.

That was all he knew.

That was all Dick knew.

[cyanide-sippy-cup]

Finally watched Caped Crusader and I have ✨thoughts✨.

Oswalda is straight up iconic. Loved every scene with her. I actually laughed out loud when the dude goes "Thorne got you to kill the wrong son?" and she responds "Not that!" I'd let her lock me in a suitcase and throw me in the sea. She gets a gold star ⭐

I like that we get to see Selina's origin. I like the classic suit. That's kinda it though. A bit sad that Bruce didn't feel any connection with her. Just not a huge fan of her character here. She doesn't feel like Selina (a problem most of this show faces tbh).

I was loving the Harley stuff. The bit with Renee was so cute, and I love that she really was passionate about helping Bruce move past his trauma. I really like that she's Barbara's friend. Was really upset at the fakeout death but at least she was just joshin. The villain stuff felt like fetishes which like okay. I guess Bruce needed to put in something to replace BruceBabs. Anyway, that's the final dig towards him. As much as this Harley episode wasn't my favorite, a promise is a promise. Although I do gotta ask, WHY CAN'T RENEE CATCH A BREAK IN HER LOVE LIFE >:(((

No fucking way the moral of episode 7 was "the system is totally not screwed, it's just a few bad apples and also a criminal is a criminal and should be jailed". Barbara literally says the system sucks cause the cops can do what they want and get in anyone's pockets and then nearly gets killed by a cop and then they end it with "actually, I think you do"?! I mean yeah that specific guy deserved prison but ending it on that note of Barbara feeling betrayed and confused on her morals tells a very not-so-delightful message. Glad the show backtracks on all that immediately but it's still weird and definitely could've used some revising to fit in with the rest.

Onomatopeia was awesome though. I remember people claiming his shtick couldn't work when he appeared in Superman and Lois. They said that it only worked in comics and would be too silly out loud. Happy to report that they're wrong.

I feel like I'm the only one who was excited to see Waylon but that's okay cause I got enough excitement for everyone. Love to see my mans kicking the shit out of potential perverts. You go, Waylon!

Dick, Jason, Steph, and Carrie. Definitely an interesting combination. But it's also so nice to see a Jason who grew up in a different environment and is therefore adorable with no rage in his heart. As opposed to Carrie who was ready to kick some ass. The ending to episode 8 really understood Batman, what with him saying he can't leave her there, carrying her and shielding her under the cape, and then asking about her later.

The Harvey bit is kinda cool but 1, I've always been iffy on the shotty DID stuff and 2, I think they coulda gone further. Just watch The Long Halloween for a better Two Face plot.

I like Harvey helping that guy get his stuffed animal back. That was a nice small character moment. If we had more stuff like that and Bruce being unable to confess his emotions to Alfred, I think this whole thing would be better. This one made up for episode 7's little message by having Barbara tell Harvey that it's not so cut and dry and that he deserves help too. I'm glad they went back to that after the whole "sometimes things are black and white" bit. Batman is about helping people just as much as Superman is and I feel like sending a message that "nope, bad is bad and he should just punch people" doesn't fit the entire thesis of Batman.

This finale really encapsulates how this show doesn't quite understand the character of Batman. It may be comic-accurate for him to be an asshole and put on the voice randomly, treat Alfred like crap, and randomly break character with stuff like "don't start growing a conscience now, Dent" but as I said it goes against the whole thesis. This is more along the lines of the Nolan films with the "Bruce Wayne is the mask" bit. And we all know how I feel about those films.

And then it ends on a boring cliffhanger with the boss guy and then a shitty Joker teaser. Boo.

In short, this show is good but it's not anything special. I do really like the classic Batman aesthetic, but that's pretty much it. It doesn't really understand the characters like MAWS and WFA, the overarching plot is kind of uninteresting and it doesn't feel like we're building up to something great. I feel like this show really wanted to use the episodic style to take a look at all these different elements of Gotham's world with references to existing characters and aspects. But whereas MAWS smoothly slid those into its narrative and setting, this just kinda feels like a villain of the week show instead of working towards this grand narrative. And that can be a good thing, I mean I'm a Scooby Doo fan for crying out loud, but in this scenario, it just doesn't work that exceptionally. If it gets a season 2, I'll probably watch it. But this isn't something I'd be excitedly waiting to see new episodes of.

[thingsasbarcodes]

Batman: Caped Crusader 1x10 - Savage Night

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Norsemen & Anglo-Saxons Chapter 1

Here's the new story! I hope y'all like it.

Summary: Princess Y/N has a secret that her parents are ashamed of.  A conquering Viking chief recognizes the gift she has.  Will they be able to bring peace between warring people, and maybe find love along the way? Viking!Bucky Warnings: eventual smut, abuse, violence, animal attack, blood

Next chapter

The New Year was upon them.  The castle was bustling with maids and squires decorating and scrambling to get everything ready in time. The halls were filled up with garlands, pinecones, dried oranges, berries, and candles lit every ten feet.  A large tree had been hauled into the great hall during Christmas Time and decorated with the same oranges, berries and pinecones, as well as ornamental pieces that shone through the branches in the candlelight.  The last seasonal ball was to be held in a few days time, and the noble families from all over the Isles had traveled in to be part of the festivities.

Princess Y/N watched the chaos in boredom as her little brother Prince Alfred, or Alfie,  ran around the room with a stream of ribbon in hand, singing holiday songs at the top of his lungs.  As much as she loved and adored him their age difference was definitely apparent during these moments.  “I watched three ships come sailing in on Christmas day on Christmas day…”

“Alfie if you sing that wretched song one more time I will–”

“You will do nothing,” her mother, Queen Eugenia interrupted as she walked into the great hall to inspect the decorations.  “After all these years of training, you still resort to violence, you ridiculous child.”

“And you still call me a child when I near my thirtieth year, Mother,” Y/N spat back.  “Perhaps my penchant for violence comes from my frustration with said training and the constant degradation of my age and ability.”

“Your petulance and independence has made you unmarriable and therefore a thorn in my side,” Eugenia sighed.  

“There have been no, as you and Father called them, “suitable” suitors to marry me off to, Mother.  And this,” she held out her hand, opening her palm, wherein a green orb of light appeared, “scares you both to death.”

“Put your hand away!” Eugenia ran over and slapped Y/N’s hand down before anyone could see.  “Stop being so careless!”

Y/N rolled her eyes.  “Yes, Mother.”

Eugenia sat next to her.  “You will attend tonight’s ball, dressed appropriately, with a smile on your ungrateful face and nothing but patient, polite mannerisms escaping that mouth of yours.  And you will not play tricks,” she looked pointedly at Y/N’s hands.

Y/N glared at her.  “Yes, Mother.”

Eugenia sighed again.  “Go get ready.”

Y/N left the great hall as Alfie continued singing away.  Her lady’s maid followed her as she roamed the halls towards her room.  The only ones who knew about her ability were her family, the royal advisory court and her lady’s maid.  No one had been able to figure out what to do with it.  She didn’t have a handle on it, either.  She could manipulate objects and people’s bodies to move how she wanted, heal minor injuries, and when touching someone she was able to see their thoughts and feel their feelings.  She could feel that there was something more to it, that her power had the potential to grow, and yet she and her ability had been tamped down so heavily from the moment she first started exhibiting it that she was unable to truly hone it and see what she was capable of.  The advisors had researched their history and fairy tale books extensively and could not find a rhyme or reason as to why she had this power.  The only reason she had not been burned at the stake as a witch was because her father thought it could be useful to him and his never ending battle against the Norsemen.

Y/N had only seen one Norseman in her entire life.  Her father had captured one after a horrible battle and brought him back from the battlefield.  He was what they called a Berserker, a Norseman warrior that would lose all sense of self-preservation and run into battle like a feral animal, like they were out of their minds and drunk with bloodlust.  Her father had put them in a room together, separated by a line of thin prison bars.  The Norseman didn’t try to attack her, just watched her intently.  Her father told her to try her powers on him, see what she could make him do.  Y/N had refused, so her father flogged her to try and make her submit.  The Norseman had become so incensed by her father’s mistreatment that he had broken through the bars, bending them like they were butter, and just as he was about to lay his hands on her father she threw her hands up.  The Norseman was encircled in the green light, stopping him midair.  Her father gave the first genuine smile towards her she had seen in years.  

The guards had shackled him and took him away shortly after that.  The look in his eyes as they dragged him away was one of shock and betrayal.  Y/N couldn’t stand it, and that night snuck through the castle to the dungeon.  She had found secret passages as a child that she used regularly, and slipped through undetected.  She stole the keys and found his cell.  He was awake, and when he heard the jingle of the keys he looked up at her.  His eyes widened and he scurried towards the farthest wall from her.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Y/N had whispered, holding her hands up.  He watched her carefully as she unlocked the door and swung it open.  She had stepped away, giving him room to leave.  He had slowly walked out of the cell, watching her constantly.  He stepped away towards the nearest exiting door.  “Run,” she whispered as she backed away from him, keeping her hands up.

He stopped for a moment.  He cleared his throat and asked in perfect English, “Are you a witch?”

Y/N had blinked at him in surprise.  “I…I don’t know,” she answered honestly.  This man could kill her in a second without making a sound, and yet he merely nodded.  “Thank you, Drottning,” he bowed his head to her then ran off towards the door.

Y/N had never seen or heard from him again.  The castle had been abuzz with confusion and fear upon finding him missing the next morning, but they ultimately decided that the barbarian had his ways and wasn’t worth pursuing. 

Y/N had never trusted her father again after that day, and had steered clear of him whenever and however she could.  He only wanted her for her power and what it could do for him.  He didn’t love her, he didn’t love Alfie.  He was a true English King, hoarding power and wealth wherever he could.

Y/N dressed in her holiday best for the ball and begrudgingly entered the great hall later that night.  The party was in full swing, nobles dancing together as the music played, the King and Queen laughing madly at the jester performing in front of them.  The wine was flowing, making the crowd more rowdy by the second.  As Y/N ascended the stage where the King and Queen sat she saw two short legs poking out and found Alfie hiding behind the Queen’s wide throne chair.  She quickly walked over and pulled him into her arms.  “What are you doing here, Alfie?  It’s late, and this is no place for a young boy,” she scolded him.

“Papa said I had to be here, because I’m to be king, and this is what kings do,” he mumbled.  Y/N glared over at her father, who was drinking himself into a stupor.  Alfie was a mere 11 years old, and already her father was trying to sink his dirty claws into the little boy’s mind and heart.

“No, Alfie, this is not how kings should act,” Y/N reassured him as she ran her fingers through his hair.  “Let’s get you to bed.”

Suddenly there was a loud bang and a whistling as wind whipped through the hall from where the front doors burst open.  A thunderous roar from what seemed like hundreds of men swarming the hall filled the room, echoing through the high ceilings and making Alfie cover his ears.  Y/N held him close as she huddled behind the throne, concealing him and herself as best as possible.  There were shouts and screams from the nobles as the men started to cut many of them down, pushing and beating others as they made their way to the stage.

The King and Queen sat in shocked silence as they watched their guards and nobles die or be captured around them.  Y/N glanced around looking for an escape and saw men standing in the higher windows, pointing arrows at the royals.  She knew they were seen and so any attempt to run would be met with death.  

Heavy footsteps walked up the stage steps, and before she could even move large hands were hefting her and Alfie from behind the chair.  They ripped Alfie from her arms and she screamed, trying to get ahold of him again as he cried and tried to grab for her.  Y/N’s body was wrenched around and she came face to face with a familiar looking man.

“Hello, Drottning, remember me?” the Norseman from years earlier smiled at her.

“You!” Y/N breathed as her eyes widened.

The Norseman chuckled as he led her to the front of the stage to stand next to her Mother and Father who sat dumbfounded on their thrones, Alfie on the other side of them being held back by another man.  Y/N looked around and even through her fear was struck by the attractive nature of these men.  Most of them were spattered in blood and sweat from fighting, and yet she had never seen so many handsome men.  The yelling started to die down as one Norseman walked forward, assumedly the leader, the rest of them parting to let him through.  The one approaching her and her family was easily one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen in her life.  His long, dark brown hair was half tied back with braids that had ornaments of beads and metal cuffs attached to them.  His full beard was cut neatly and framed his pink lips, which were stretched into a menacing smirk.  His blue eyes shone bright like the ocean just after a storm, and she could see the mischievous glint in them as he scanned the family.  He was covered in Norse battle gear from just under his jaw to his feet, a large sheathed sword on his right side and a war hammer at his left.  His left arm was bare, and upon further inspection Y/N realized it wasn’t flesh, but some kind of metal, yet it looked and functioned like a normal arm.  He was huge, like all the other men, tall and broad.  His eyes settled on her and he appraised her, giving her a long look up and down.  Y/N straightened herself under his stare, refusing to bow or show weakness to him.  His smirk deepened at her as he looked back at her parents.

“King Henry, Queen Eugenia,” he greeted them in a deep, booming voice.  “I am James Barnes, Jarl of the Danes, or Norsemen as you like to call us.”  He nonchalantly took a half eaten pastry off the table closest to him and popped it in his mouth, chewing it slowly.  “What a lovely party.  We missed our invitation,” he said with a sly smile, making his men laugh heartily around him.

Henry just couldn’t help himself as he stood up.  “You aren’t wanted, heathens!  Leave immediately!”

“Now now, Henry, is that any way to speak to the ones who have conquered you?” James admonished him.  “I’ve come to make peace, and you want to scream insults?”

Y/N silently gasped.  Peace?  With the Norsemen?  

“Make peace?  While you murder my nobles and threaten my family?  That’s preposterous,” Henry scoffed.  Y/N glared at her father, silently wishing for him to shut up.

“Well you could either choose peace, or watch the rest of your nobles and your family die, starting with your heir,” James threatened, glancing at Alfie.  Y/N squirmed against the Norseman behind her at the threat.  “And we’ll make some stops along the way to some of your most prosperous cities and take what we need.  The choice is yours.”

“That’s no choice!” Henry yelled and then started to move towards James.  “You wretched, barbaric–”

A whistle sounded through the hall as an arrow was loosed.  It flew straight towards Alfie’s chest.  Y/N’s hand yanked out of the Norseman’s hand that was holding her and stretched toward her brother as she screamed, “NO!”

The arrow stopped, hovering right in front of Alfie’s heart, surrounded by the green light.  The men gasped, James staring at Y/N with an awestruck smile on his face.  “So it’s true,” he whispered.  Y/N flicked her wrist and the arrow went flying towards the wall and shattered.  Before she could even drop her hand James was in front of her.  He looked at the Norseman holding her back and nodded to him.  “Thor, is this the English witch of royal blood who freed you?”

The man behind her nodded and lightly shoved her into his arms.  James held her by her arms and looked down at her.  “What’s your name, Princess?”

Y/N could only stare at his bright blue eyes, her heart hammering in her chest at exposing herself and her ability.  “Y/N,” she whispered.  

“Y/N,” he repeated it like it was a prayer.  “I’ve been talking to the wrong person.”  He pulled her forward to face her family.  “Henry, you’ve been hiding something,” he chuckled as he plopped his chin on her shoulder so they were cheek to cheek and ran his fingers up and down her arms, the metal ones sending chills up her spine.  “She’s the one with power, not you.”  Henry glared at her, a hateful look on his face.  “Oh, I see,” James’ voice became sharper.  “You feel threatened by her, so you’ve hid her away, stomped on her potential to grow,” Y/N was nearly shaking as she felt the adrenaline rush through her.  “She’s a goddess among you pathetic royals,” he kissed the side of her head, “and you wanted to reduce her to a torture device.  You let the magic go to waste.”  He turned her towards him again and dipped his face to be at eye level with her.  “We have magic at home.  We can help you learn and grow,” Y/N’s eyes widened at him.  “So I ask you, Princess Y/N.  What do you choose, death or peace?”

Y/N exhaled a shaky breath as she stared at him.  As he touched her she let her ability slip into his mind.  She could find no lie in his words.  He and his people were tired, the constant war depleting their resources and wiping out families.  They won the battles more often than lost, but it had put a strain on their lives.  His mention of magic seemed real, too, with glimpses and flashes of things that were unexplainable popping up in his mind.  Y/N thought about her people and how the English had been begging for peace for years as well, all of it falling on her father’s greedy, prideful ears.  She could tell James was good, and only wanted good for his men and his people.

“I propose an allyship,” she said.  James blinked and his eyebrows furrowed at her.  “A peace treaty with a tradition as old as time,” she clarified, gulping quickly.  “We join our families in marriage.”  His eyes flicked between hers, like he was studying her.  His men around him mumbled as they considered the idea.  “If you are unmarried,” she amended, since she wasn’t sure, “or if someone in your nobility is unmarried, I will come with you as a peace offering, a marriage tribute.  You will have me, and my power, and leave my family and my people be,” she said, trying to look and sound every bit the princess her mother had always wanted her to be.  “And we will end this war and finally bring peace to our people.”

James stood straight, towering over her.  He watched her for another moment, then stepped back and looked to his men behind him.  Two of them walked up and spoke to him quietly.  Y/N waited on baited breath as they consulted with each other.  They stood back and he turned toward her again.  “Done,” he said simply, the smirk returning to his lips.  Y/N nodded and quietly sighed.  “My Drottning,” he spoke lowly, holding out his metal hand.  She put her right hand into his metal hand, admiring it.  

“What does that mean?” she asked him.

“My Queen,” he winked at her.  Y/N blushed deeply.  He turned to his men and held her hand up high in his.  “We have peace!” he yelled triumphantly.  The thunderous roar returned as they cheered, their hands and swords and axes held high as they hugged each other and drank some of the wine left on the tables around them.  James dropped their joined hands and kissed the hand he held, making her blush again.  “Say goodbye to your family, Drottning, we leave immediately.”

He let her go and she ran up the stairs towards her family.  She ignored her parents altogether, grabbing Alfie and holding him tight against her.  

“Don’t go,” Alfie cried as his fingers clutched her dress.

“I have to,” Y/N cried as she carded her fingers through his hair.  “You listen to me,” she knelt in front of him and held his face in her hands, “you remember what I’ve taught you.”  He nodded frantically.  “Do not listen to Father,” he nodded again, making her father sneer at them next to her.  “I’ve seen it in you,” she whispered, laying a hand against his heart then tapping her finger to her head.  “You will become one of the greatest kings England has ever known, as long as you don’t do as Father has done.  You will bring continued peace and prosperity, you hear me?”  She wiped his tears away.  “Because you are a good boy, and will become a great man.  My little king,” she kissed his forehead firmly before pulling away.

Alfie cried harder as she stepped away from him.  She turned to her father.  “Stay away from him,” she warned him, glancing at Alfie.  “I have procured a peace that you, and your father, and your father’s father could never have dreamed of,” she sneered back at him.  “Do good by our people, for once in your miserable life.”  She glared at him before turning back towards James who stood patiently waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.  

His men were slowly retreating out of the great hall as he held his hand out for her again.  She took it as he flashed one last glance and triumphant smile at her father before leading her out the front doors.  As they walked through the courtyard and towards the horses waiting for them he glanced at her attire.

“Hm, this won’t do while riding,” he said as he twirled her around.  Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at him.  “Where’s your lady’s maid?”

Y/N looked around and saw the telltale eyes peeking from behind the stables.  “May,” she pointed.

James summoned her forward out of hiding.  She quickly ran across the courtyard and into Y/N’s arms, sobbing as Y/N pet her hair.  “Miss May, go fetch your princess’ riding clothes and some simple dresses for travel,” James instructed her.  May stared at him with wide eyes, looking at Y/N who nodded to her.  She was escorted back inside with Thor to get Y/N’s things packed.

As they stood there waiting, the snow started to fall.  Y/N looked up and sighed as the cold kissed her face, a welcome reprieve to her inflamed cheeks from the night’s tension.  She looked towards James who was already looking at her.

“What do I call you?” she asked him.  

“You can call me Bucky,” he said.

“Bucky?” she asked, a small smirk pulling her lips.

“A nickname,” he laughed at her perplexed look.  “Saved for those closest to me.  And since you’ll be my queen–”

“So it is you I’ll be marrying then?”  Y/N asked.

“Yes,” Bucky laughed harder.  “I guess I didn’t make that very clear.”

“Hm,” Y/N hummed.  “You have a very English name...James.”

“Yes,” he agreed, sighing as he looked at the falling snowflakes.  “We Norsemen and you Anglo-Saxons are not that different from each other,” he said with a twinkle in his eye as he winked at her again.  

Y/N pondered that as May came out holding Y/N’s riding clothes and boots with Thor holding a small trunk that he loaded onto one of the wagons they had waiting.  May ran back to Y/N.

“Go change, and then we’ll be off,” Bucky excused Y/N, who led May over to the stables.  They went into an empty bay and May quickly stripped Y/N out of her gown and into her riding clothes.

“My lady,” May said as she held Y/N’s crown in her hands.  Y/N looked at it and gingerly took it from her.  She stared at it for a moment before giving it back to her.  She gave May another hug.  

“Take it, my love,” she said as May sobbed in her arms again.  “Run away and marry that stable boy, Ben, and use it to live long happy lives together,” she said as she pulled away.

May nodded as she cried, gathering up the gown as she said goodbye.

Y/N came back out in her riding clothes.  She approached Bucky who was preparing his horse.  He mounted it and held his hand out to her.  She took it and he helped hoist her behind him on the saddle.  He wrapped her hands around his waist then she felt him tying her wrists together.

“What–” she started, trying to look over his shoulder.

“So you don’t run off,” Bucky cocked an eyebrow at her in warning as he looked back at her.

“I won’t,” Y/N promised.

“That’s what they all say,” Bucky chuckled before he turned to his men who were all waiting.  “To Danmark!!”

“To Danmark!” they all yelled, and the pounding of hooves rang through the night as they all rode out of the courtyard and into the English countryside.

Y/N’s arms tightened around Bucky, her head tucking in between his shoulder blades as the winter wind stung her face.  She was not going to run and wanted to prove it to him.  She wanted peace, even if it meant giving up herself to get it. After about an hour they all started to slow as they reached the water’s edge where multiple ships were docked, secured by other Norsemen who waited anxiously for them.

Bucky untied the rope around her wrists then dismounted.  He held his hands up to her hips and helped her down as well.  He inspected her wrists, giving them a short rub.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to each wrist.  Y/N was surprised at his affection, but welcomed it in the moment.  He pulled her towards one of the boats.  He helped her step onto it and settled her into a corner of the stern that was covered in furs and quilts.  He pulled one of the furs up and covered her with it, securing it around her shoulders.  There was plenty of room around her as she got herself comfortable.

“It’s going to be a four day journey, Drottning,” Bucky kneeled in front of her.  “This area is for all of us to sleep, so you’ll have at least a few men next to you, but don’t fear,” he reassured her at the look on her face, “they’re harmless.  Just tired.”

Y/N looked around at the men loading themselves into the boat, many of them taking seats at the benches where the oars were sitting.  She felt worried but nodded at him.  He gave her a smile and stepped away to help load more things into the boats.  They all worked methodically together until in just a few minutes they were ready to pull off.  Bucky was stationed at one of the oars as well, giving the signal and they shoved off the shore.

Y/N watched the men in her boat and the others row in perfect unison.  She admired their strength and the way they all seemed to be of one mind as they worked together to get into a good rhythm, making the boat fly through the water.  The rhythmic rowing lulled her to sleep as she snuggled down into the furs below her.

She woke a few hours later.  It was still dark out, the rowing still going strong.  As she shifted to get more comfortable she felt a heavy weight around her waist.  She panicked until she turned and saw Bucky’s peaceful face sleeping next to her, his metal arm resting on her side.  Y/N looked down at the arm.  She admired its craftsmanship, unsure of how he was able to find or create such a thing.  Her fingers traced along the metal, the plates and divots carved like the muscles of a real arm would be.  When she reached his hand she lightly traced each finger with the tip of her pointer finger.  His hand suddenly moved to grasp her wrist.  She gasped as he gently maneuvered her to face him.  His eyes were still closed as he let go of her wrist then wound his metal arm around her back this time, holding her to his chest.  “Sleep, wife,” he mumbled, his voice coming out hoarsely as he kissed her forehead and rested his chin on top of her head.  

Y/N was stiff for a moment until the warmth enveloped her and she melted into his embrace.  She pressed her nose into his sternum and breathed deeply as her hands gripped the fur coat he was wearing.  He hummed as his breathing evened out and a soft snore rumbled in his chest.  It lulled her to sleep again, a small smile on her face.

**picture is A.I. from Pinterest, unknown original "artist" or "creator"**