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#father x son
ghostslut00 · 2 months
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my little brother walking into me and our dad fucking. he never knew his big brother could be so slutty, moaning and begging dad to fuck me.
maybe he stays just out of sight, his hand down his pants watching as his usually dominant older brother gets fucked like a whore.
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chiharuuu22 · 6 months
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Son-Whumpee X Father-Caretaker
I've been thinking about how Whumpee and Caretaker's relationship is family. The Caretaker is the father, and Whumpee is the son. Only a few cliche plots come to mind when watching something about mecha (more often when watching mecha-related anime or the like). A Father-Caretaker who is the highest leader and a Son-Whumpee who is a soldier who goes out to fight directly in the field.
Previously, they had a good relationship. The father is a warm father who always smiles. Until one day, a big war broke out and killed his wife and future second child. His first son was safe because he was at his grandmother's house in a different location from his mother. The father then changed, became a cold person, and kept his distance from his own son. His son's eyes were so similar to his wife's that he couldn't bear to look at them.
The son joined his father's unit with difficulty, without even praise or encouragement. All he wanted was to be close to his father, whom he always missed. All his achievements at the academy and on the field were purely the result of his abilities, without the intervention of his father. The father remains cold and does not appreciate anything. The son even called his father "Commander".
One day, the son was slandered by his father's confidant, and he had to run away to save himself because his father believed that he was guilty. On the run, the son searches for evidence to prove his innocence and save his father from the traitor. During that escape, he experienced many difficulties and sadness, starting with having to hide because he became a search target and even being kidnapped by the traitor. But thanks to that, the son found out that the traitor intended to destroy his father and the entire unit. The son managed to escape and build an unit of reinforcements that he managed to find.
In the end, the father was betrayed by his confidant and found out his son was innocent. When the war raged on and the father's troops were on the edge, the son came with reinforcements. The son fought tooth and nail to protect his father. In the communication channel, he said, "Commander, no, Dad, I have never betrayed you!". The son and his reinforcements managed to defeat the enemy under cover, but the son was seriously injured after the battle.
The father then picks up his dying son in the hangar, removing him by force from the damaged cockpit. In a semi-conscious condition, the son handed over the evidence he had collected in a device that he had been guarding. The son said again that he had never betrayed his own father, that he missed his father, and that his father's hug at that time was very warm because he was cold now.
This was the second time the father felt extreme fear. The father wanted his son to be treated immediately, and he kept saying he was sorry for treating his son badly all this time. The father kept telling his son to survive and he kept apologizing, saying he would make up for all the wasted time. The son smiled and said, "Dad, I love you very much." When finally the father said, "I love you too, my son," the son lost consciousness.
The son ended up in a treatment room with many medical devices to support his life. His father was always by his side and even abandoned his responsibilities several times. Several times, his son's condition deteriorated, and the doctors almost lost him.
During that time, the father cleared his son's good name and gave good ranks to the reinforcements. The father couldn't apply for leave because the war had just ended. There were many things to take care of, especially since he often neglected his duties.
One day, the son finally came to his senses. Although it took time, he finally opened his eyes. The father was very grateful that his son had returned. The father even assigned several of his subordinates to look after his son when he was required to leave because of his duties.
Every day and every time, when the son opened his eyes, he would see his father sitting beside his bed. His father always held his hand, calmed him when the pain struck him, stroked his hair affectionately, and even tried to understand his groans because his son couldn't speak well yet.
The father took good care of his son as if he were paying for the lost decades of togetherness. He carried him from the bed to the wheelchair or vice versa, changed his pajamas, helped him bathe and go to the toilet, and of course fed him food and occasionally gave him snacks. The son may experience some health setbacks, such as partial memory loss, a constant feeling of confusion, and a fear of loud noises or even fighting machines. Several panic attacks occurred in the son, and the father was always able to calm him down.
In fact, at some times, the father felt that his son was acting a little like a child. However, the doctor said the child's memory was mixed; maybe now he remembered a time when he was very happy and that's why he acted like that. Secretly, the father felt sad when he saw his son smiling happily, playing with miniature fighter planes, or scribbling on paper with crayons. The father must protect his son.
It took time, but finally, the son showed progress. He started to remember what had happened—all the known information, important locations, and many other things. However, sometimes he keeps asking his father for ice cream, chocolate, or candy and ends up confused.
When his son was finally able to go out for treatment, and oh, the father bought several clothes because his son's old clothes were too big due to his drastic weight loss after being sick, bad news hit him. The father is obliged to go to a location. The father was initially confused about whether to entrust his son to his friend, who was also a doctor who was treating his son or to take his son with him to a place dozens of hours away by car. The son said he didn't want to be left alone anymore, so his father decided to take him.
You can imagine the long journey that father and son had to take. The father made sure his son was comfortable. Clothes made of soft material, warm jackets, socks, blankets, even a pillow tucked under his head. The car seat would be lowered so his son could half lie down because he didn't want to lie down in the back seat. When they arrived, the son was already fast asleep, so during the inspection, the father showed both of their identification cards and told the guard not to make too much noise when checking his son's face because he didn't want to wake him.
The father could not be with his son 24 hours a day, so he sent several subordinates to guard his son, who was still sitting in a wheelchair (the son's status could be said to be temporarily inactive). You can also imagine that when some people bring documents to the father's room, they will see the sight of the commander in full clothing, a thin boy in casual clothes, and an oversized jacket covering his body.
The father actually wanted his son to leave, live like a teenager, and become an adult in general. But the son said he didn't want to be too far from his father; he was here because he wanted to be with him; he wanted to be his father's pride.
"You know, son, you have always been my pride. I just don't want to see you die like that again. Watching your heart or breath stop or your body convulse makes me crazy."
Of course, the son remains firm, and his father cannot oppose it. At least, during this recovery, the son will continue to be safe with him. After all, his son definitely has a much brighter future, considering that he is still young and can still develop.
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9-1-1: Lone Star S03E16
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litcest · 1 year
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Doom of the House of Duryea, by Earl Peirce Jr.
Doom of the House of Duryea is a short story by Earl Peirce Jr. that was first published in 1936 at the Weird Tales magazine. It’s a pretty obscure horror story, not nearly as popular as other stories featured in Weird Tales, such as H.P. Lovecraft’s The Call of Cthulhu or Robert E. Howard’s Conan the Barbarian, and it was brought to my attention by @cor-ardens (thank you very much). It can be read online for free here. 
I had never even heard of this story, but I was promised some good father/son incest. I hope it lives up to the expectations 😉. I also hear there’s vampires on it.
Arthur Duryea hadn’t seen his father, Doctor Henry Duryea for twenty years when he goes to meet him in a hotel. Henry greets his son happily and the two catch up, with Arthur confessing he expected his father to look older. Henry says that he had been watching Arthur grow up, keeping up with the news in his son’s life.
“Arthur, looking into that glance, realized, with growing pride, that he had loved his father all his life, despite any of those things which had been cursed against him.”
In their conversation, it’s revealed that they were kept apart by Arthur’s Aunt Cecilia, who was now dead. Cecilia had told stories to Arthur about how Henry was a vampire and a murderer (who eat his own children), but Arthur didn’t believe in them, deeming them to be only superstitions and madness. Henry then invites Arthur to spend the summer with him at a lake house in Maine.
“But first, Arthur, I must be sure in my own mind that you are sure in yours. I must be sure you won't bar your door against me at night, and sleep with a loaded revolver at your elbow. I must be sure that you're not afraid of going up there alone with me, and dying——”
Henry decides to tell Arthur what he claims to be the truth behind the legend of his vampirism. Indeed, Arthur had had two younger brother, both which had died in their cradle, for which Henry had stood trial and been acquitted. Henry says that the night the children died, he had sleepwalked, but had no recollection of what happened. Even knowing this, Arthur agrees to go with Henry to Maine.
One evening, during their stay in the lake house, a storm begins and Henry warns that there’s a leakage at Arthur’s bedroom, so perhaps it would be a better idea if they slept in the same room that night. Arthur goes to check it out and discovers that there’s no leak.
“He went upstairs swiftly and silently. His roof didn't leak; it was absurd even to think it might. It had been his father again, suggesting that they sleep together. He had done it before, in a jesting, whispering way—as if to challenge them both if they dared to sleep together.”
A father and son bonding trip, you say? Well, it seems more of a romantic kind of trip.
Henry goes out in the middle of the storm to check on the boats and Arthur goes to search for a razor blade in his father’s things, as he needs to shave. He stumbles into a book called ‘INFANTIPHAGI’, which talks about vampire, monsters and, as implied by the title, eating children. (Run, Arthur, run!) One of the accounts is about Autiel Duryea, his ancestor.
“The execution, four years ago, of Autiel Duryea does not end the Duryea controversy. Time alone can decide whether the Demon has claimed that family from its beginning to its end...”
The text talks about how Autial was a vrykolakas, a type of monster who can only prey when near another member of his family (called a ‘medium’) and can even feed of the medium if no other person is available.
“The medium, also, is unaware of its terrible role; and when these two are together, despite any lapse of years, the fusion of inheritance is so violent that no power known on earth can turn it back.”
As he read those words, Henry returns and catches him, but pretends to not notice it. Then, using the wind as an excuse, Henry tells Arthur to lock his bedroom door that night.
In the middle of the night, Henry calls for Arthur to come down and tells him that they would be leaving the following day. Then, Henry tells Arthur to tie him up to the bedposts (kinky, I like it), saying that Arthur is the medium to Henry’s  vrykolakas. 
The following morning, however, Arthur, who wakes up feeling bloated, finds his father dead in the bed, drained of blood. Arthur proceeds to shoot himself in the head.
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Okay, I admit, it does have incestuous undertones. I like the twist of Arthur being the blood sucker, instead of Henry.
On another comment, I saw and interesting parallel to Poe’s The Tell-Tale Heart. In Doom, Henry says: “What did you expect, Arthur? [..] An evil eye?”. And in The Tell-Tale Heart, which can also be analysed as incest, the Narrator, talking about his father says: “I think it was his eye! Yes, it was this! One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture—a pale blue eye with a film over it.”
Once again, thank you @cor-ardens, for bringing this incestuous horror story with vampires and bondage to my attention. If any one else had recs, I’m always in search for more books to add to the collection.
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Smallville 1x17
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🎶And nothing in this world could make me love you less...🎶
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Good morning. I just realized that the one time Poseidon gave Percy a birthday gift he strung it on his necklace and wore it constantly. He spent all year thinking about it and trying to figure out what Poseidon wanted him to buy with it. Sanddollars are 2-4 inches in diameter meaning that it would've been resting above his heart. I am going to fucking cry.
And then I realized. Percy has his sand dollar necklace. Sally has her pearl necklace. Poseidon has his ocean stone necklace. I'm fucking crying.
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ruubesz-draws · 20 days
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Father and son moment🤗
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starry-bi-sky · 3 months
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There are two things that Damian knows that he knows Father doesn’t.
He has an older brother
He was dead
(And a secret third thing: Damian was glad he was dead. They did not get along.)
Well. No, correction, they were two things that Damian knew that Father didn't. Past tense. Strange magic swirled through the air and created a mirage before his eyes, and immediately a scowl forms across his face.
The mirage shifts and shimmers like the light hitting a slowly turning prism, and then it settles into a memory. One that Damian does not recall. Like looking into a tv screen, it shows, faintly, a room, with most of the magic going into the image of a crib.
His mother was standing on one side, and next to her, standing on his tiptoes was a small five year old boy looking up at her. With dark hair and skin that was only few shades lighter brown than Damian's, the little boy's resemblance to Damian was undeniable.
However, his eyes were blue. Not green. Damian's scowl deepens, and he sinks back. "Danyal." He mutters, and feels eyes turn on to him.
Danyal Al Ghul. Damian's older brother. A prodigal swordsman like Damian, and five years his senior. He'd be fifteen if he was still alive. His memory of the last time he saw his brother was still clear in his mind.
(A sword to Danyal's neck. Stars were glittering through his window. Damian was five, Danyal ten. He is not sure why Danyal had snuck into his room, all he remembers is hearing a sound and on instinct reaching for his sword.)
(His brother had intercepted easily. But had not shoved the sword away. Moonlight hit his blue eyes, and Damian remembers seeing the pupils shrink to let the light in. His eyes looked almost silver.)
(His brother bares his teeth at him. Damian wants to slice his neck more than anything, and he bares his teeth back. "Good." Danyal says, his voice low in a hiss, "Your reflexes are good, little brother.")
("Of course they are," Damian remembers snarling, and presses the sword closer. But it does not budge. "I am an Al Ghul.")
(Something unrecognizable passes through his brother's eyes, and his mouth twists into something like a smile. "I know." He says, and tilts his head downwards at him. "And you will be great.")
(His brother shoves the sword back, causing Damian to stumble. And like the wind, he is gone.)
(The next morning, he goes on a mission with mother and a few others. Mother is the only one to return with Danyal's sword, and a red-eyed look in her eyes. Damian does not mourn. Now there's only one of them.)
"Momma." The little Danyal-mirage speaks, a furrow between his childlike brows as mother lowers a bundle into the crib. His blue eyes watch her, and lifts onto his toes to peer into the crib as she sets the baby down. "Who is this?"
Their mother's hand comes to rest along his back. "This is Damian, my son." She murmurs, voice low. "He is your little brother. Protect him well."
Damian scoffs internally -- not likely. He remembers every spar he ever had with Danyal, every harsh word and insult. His pushing, pushing, pushing for Damian to get up. To try again. Do it again. The only kindness he ever showed him was when his fingers bled. And even that was harsh, firm. Rolling gauze around his wrist and scolding him, telling him how to wield his weapon better.
(It was the same as everyone else, but somehow it hurt worse coming from his own brother.)
But he watches his older brother's youngest self tilt his head to the side, and then reach his chubby hand through the crib's bars. He runs small, blunt fingers over the baby's arm, and the baby jerks. Through the crib's bars, Damian sees himself grab Danyal's fingers.
And he scowls even deeper.
And Danyal's eyes... widen. He lets out a little gasp, and a small smile Damian's never seen him wear tilts at the corner of his mouth as he looks up at their mother. "Mother," he whispers, "he grabbed me!"
Damian... his scowl falters, for a moment.
He doesn't wait for a response, he looks back to the baby with sparking eyes. His expression melts like sugar as he bounces the finger being gripped tight by the small hand. "Hello, little brother." His brother says, voice its of usual firmness, but there's more fondness underlying it than Damian's ever heard. "My name is Danyal."
The mirage shifts before Damian can comprehend his older brother's voice. It shows the crib again, appearing as if a few days had passed. There is night lilting through the nearby window, and a creek of the door. The baby doesn't stir.
Danyal sneaks in, still wearing his training clothes and a sword strapped to his side. Damian's scowl returns, watching him creep over to the crib. Of course -- the last night he saw his brother wasn't the only time he'd snuck into his room.
Would he go so low as to attack an infant? Damian wonders, watching his brother cross the room to his crib. But while his fingers rest against the hilt, they never curl to unsheathe.
His brother peers into the crib again, and there it is again, that smile wider in the corner of his mouth. It's not a full one, but its as uninhibited as it gets. Dripping honey-sweet with awe. "You are so tiny." Danyal whispers, and pokes a finger back through the crib. It wriggles, then pokes Damian's cheek gently. "Was I as small as you when mother gave birth to me?"
There is no response from the baby. Not a coherent one anyways, the little thing snuffles and turns his head, mouth open to latch. Danyal stills, his eyes grow ever wider again.
Danyal says nothing else, just rests his cheek against the crib and watches the baby sleep in silence. The affection never leaves his young face.
Damian feels unsettled. Off-foot. This Danyal is foreign to him... He wonders what happened to have changed his brother's mind on him.
There's a scuffle, quiet, but there. Danyal picks up on it just as Damian does, and his head pricks up like a deer, head already turning away from the crib. The affection leaves his face, falling away like water into something serious. His blade is already slightly unsheathed.
Two assassins, belonging to grandfather, burst out of the shadows. Their swords swinging into the air and ready to strike.
Danyal kills them both, his back to the crib. It's not without struggle, and when the two assassins lay dead on the floor, the baby is wailing at the top of his lungs. Danyal has a laceration cleaving down diagonal of his cheek. It's close to his eye, just barely missed blinding him.
Damian never knew how he got that scar. He does now. (He doesn't know how to feel about it.)
His brother clutches his bleeding face, sheathing his sword as tears well up onto his face. But he turns towards the crib, and hurries over. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay." He hushes rapidly, the League-drilled seriousness fallen away to reveal a panic-stricken five year old. He sticks one hand into the crib, the one not clutching anything, and grabs little Damian's hand.
Their mother comes bursting in that moment, and Danyal turns his head towards her. "Mother." He says, his voice cracks un-wantingly. Their mother steps over the bodies of the assassins easily. "They tried to kill Damian."
"But they did not." Talias says, kneeling down next to the crib to inspect Danyal's face and Damian's well-being. When she finds nothing of concern beyond the injury, she continues. "You killed them before they could, Danyal. Well done."
The mirage of his brother nods, his eyes teary and red.
Damian... is discomfited. he never thought Danyal would kill assassins for him. He would have thought his brother would sooner look the other way. The mirage shifts again, and it quickly shows time passing.
Danyal sits in Damian's nursery every night, after that. He lays at the foot of the crib with his sword, a pillow and a blanket with him. Some nights there is nothing but peace -- or as close to peace as a baby could achieve -- and some days assassins break in.
Danyal kills each one.
The mirage shifts again, and it shows more memories of Danyal interacting with Damian during his youth too young for him to remember. His first steps, his first words.
"Danya." The small toddler of Damian says, arms reaching for Danyal.
A frown curls across Danyal's face, and pulls Damian into his lap. "No, no, little brother." He scolds, voice firm but.. softer. "It is Danyal, Damian. Danyal."
"Danya!"
Damian's brother sighs, but there is that same-small tilt at the corner of his mouth. A glimmer in his eyes. A glimmer... that Damian is finding he recognizes.
(He always thought his brother got that look in his eyes when he was mocking him. Was he wrong?)
The mirage shifts again, and this time it shows only mother and Danyal, alone. Danyal is older, taller. Seven, if Damian had to guess. Mother has a stern look on her face, her hands tight on his shoulders. "Damian will be starting training soon, my son."
Ah, then close to eight then. Training starts, always, at three years old. He watches Danyal nod, his expression mimicking their mother's. His arms are folded, always folded, behind his back, always neat.
"You can no longer have the relationship with your brother as you did before." Mother says.
Danyal's expression... falters. It shifts, it fluctuates. He looks surprised, thrown off. Like he isn't quite sure he heard what mother just said. His brows furrow. "What... do you mean, mother?"
"I mean what I said, Danyal." Mother says, stern, "Ra's will be keeping a closer eye on Damian now that he is of age to begin his training. He will not like if he sees you both getting along."
"I am sorry, my child. But your relationship with Damian ends here. You are rivals now, not brothers." In a cruel form a gentleness, mother raises her hand and tucks a stray curl out of Danyal's face.
Of course. Damian never had a relationship with his brother because of Grandfather. Of course. No, he's not feeling a little bitter. No. There's not an inner child that still, like a candleflame, wishes that he'd had a bond with his only flesh and blood.
Danyal is dead now. So it's not like it matters. He's happy about this.
Danyal frowns, and he steps back. He looks lost in thought. "We are still brothers, mother," he says, argues, and looks up to meet mother's eyes. "Let me train him, I will make sure he gets the skill he needs. If we must be rivals, then I will teach him how to defeat me. If he can defeat me, he can defeat anybody."
Their mother, and Damian, both blink in unison. Then mother smiles something sharp, calculated. She folds her hands behind her back. "Then do it. But you will make him hate you."
"...So be it."
Damian.... Damian is silent. His world axis has been tilted on its head. He is sliding, and sliding, and sliding down. Spinning. Many things click into place at once.
More memories from the mirage show. It shows Danyal training Damian. It shows their arguing, their bickering. It shows Danyal going to their mother to praise Damian and his skills, how fast he is picking up on the sword. How one day he will surpass even him.
It shows Danyal sitting outside Damian's bedroom door every night, listening in for anyone who dares to break in. His knees drawn to his chest, his sword at his side. Sometimes he sneaks in, sword drawn, when he hears a sound.
Some nights, Damian wakes up. He remembers those nights. Danyal standing over his bed with his sword unsheathed and tight at his side. He remembers the instant terror as he immediately reached for his own weapon.
His brother always scolded him for his lack of vigilance. That had he been anyone else, Damian would have had his neck cut. He would've been dead already. It only made Damian's hatred of him grow.
But he understands now. Because there were assassins in the room that Damian, four years old, three, did not notice. Not until later. He always assumed the attacks on him after Danyal's death had been because now there was a new heir to target.
It had been the only lesson he'd been even somewhat grateful for.
Then finally the mirage shimmers, and it shows Danyal, ten years old, in one of the training rooms, mid-spar with Mother. It's fast, sharp, impressive and like a blur. Damian is unsure if at ten which one of them was the better swordsman. Some of the assassins who have never met Danyal said Damian was, but the ones who had said it was Danyal. He'll never know.
In a lull in the fight, when their swords are crossed, mother speaks. "Ra's wants you and Damian to fight." She says, teeth grit into a deep scowl. The cross breaks and Danyal jumps back, he frowns.
"We have fought, mother." He says, and dives in first, swinging for mother's feet. Mother dodges, and slices at his arm. He swerves out of the way, twisting on his feet like a dance. "We are always fighting, doesn't he see our spars?"
"Not a spar like that, my son." Mother says, a snarl in her voice. She lunges, and Danyal blocks her blade. "A fight to the death. Father has grown tired of having two heirs."
That gets Danyal's attention -- or, more accurately, it distracts it. His eyes widen, and his sword lowers for a single moment. A mistake. "What?" Is all he gets out before mother has him on his back, her blade pressed to his throat.
He freezes. As does Damian. Danyal's brows furrow, then unfurrow, only to knot up again. "Mother, what do you mean a fight to the death?" He flips to his feet when mother removes the sword. She walks over to grab her water.
"Must I repeat myself, Danyal?" Mother snaps, rubbing her forehead before swigging from her canteen. "Father wants to find out which one of you is the stronger heir, and so you will fight to the death after your training in a few days."
Danyal's tan face loses a shade of color, he looks ashy. "There must be some mistake!" He exclaims, his arms gesturing out as he peers around mother. "There is a five year disparity between us, Damian has only just started training two years ago. It would be an unfair fight!"
"Do you think me unaware?" Mother whirls on him, and there is a grief-stricken look on her face. Like she is already mourning Damian's death. Damian feels ill. "Your skill is far beyond what Damian can accomplish right now, and there is nothing that I say that can convince Father otherwise."
Danyal wears an expression like he is scrambling for answers. A white knuckle grip on his weapon. There is a long silence, and his lower lip curls up. His throat bobs, he swallows. "Is there really nothing we can do?"
Mother makes a frustrated sound, pushing her loose hairs out of her face. "Not unless Father changes his mind, or I send one of you away. But Father would surely send someone to look for you or Damian."
"What if one of us faked our death?"
Mother stills. As does Damian. No, he thinks, stiff as a rod, no way. These mirages were lying, nothing but figments of an imagination. Of some quiet what-if that Damian had not yet stomped out.
Mother's expression shifts, and then turns contemplative. Danyal notices, and keeps pushing, he looks as hopeful as he could get beyond his usual unwavering, stone-like expression. "One of us could go to father--"
"No." Mother cuts off, voice sharp. Danyal wilts, confusion flittering across his face. Damian, from the corner of his eye, sees Father tense as stone. His white-slit eyes have not left the mirage. Nobody's has.
"Father will undoubtedly check there first, it would not be a good idea. You or Damian will have to go somewhere where he would not think to look. Someone unaffiliated with the League."
Danyal's face falls, shutters, and then closes up again into stone. Mother begins to pace, and Danyal's blue eyes follow her. "So a stranger?" He asks, and there is disgust lilting into his voice.
Mother nods, and she looks just as offput as Danyal.
The mirage of Damian's brother rolls his shoulders back. "Then I will do it, mother." He says, voice unwavering. There is a stubborn note behind it all, one that Damian recognizes. "I will fake my death, and Damian will stay here."
Mother's eyes turn sharp on him, and she stops in her spot. She pivots. "Are you sure?" She asks, eyebrow raising, "There is a chance you will never meet your Father if you leave. Nor will you see I or Damian again, if you do this."
Something like fear flickers across Danyal's face, eyes widening momentarily -- as if that very thought had not crossed his mind. But then it smooths over to sharp determination. He nods. "It would be the same for Damian if it was him instead. I will do it, Mother."
Damian feels ill again. Father has a strong set in his jaw, his teeth grinding.
Mother stares at Danyal, and then her expression softens. And like before, it is grieving. "In a few days time, I and another member of the League will be going on a mission to the American States. I will tell Father that you will accompany me, once there we will dispose of the other member and then orchestrate your death."
The American States. Danyal was here, in the country. He was out there somewhere -- but no this was fake. It had to be. Danyal was dead. A fool who got himself killed on a mission with mother and left the title of Heir to Damian.
Or maybe it had been his plan all along. His and mother's both.
...Was mother ever going to tell him?
The mirage of Danyal nods, sharp. Understanding. There is a gleam in his eyes that is not pride, it is tears. And when Mother leaves the room and leaves him alone, the stone-like expression on his face crumbles and falls.
His brother, ten years old, curls up his lip in an ugly way. It wobbles as the tears in his eyes do, and he brings up his hand to slam it over his mouth. And sinks to his knees, a yell-like sob muffled behind the skin.
His brother, ten years old, looks smaller than Damian remembers him being, and cries.
Damian has never seen Danyal cry. Not once in the mirage of memories, nor in his own.
The memory holds for a minute, and then disappears. And no new one shows up. The magic is gone, and it leaves a silence in its wake. Heavy, staticky, and full of revelations.
So there are two things that Damian knows that his Father now knows too.
He has an older brother
His older brother is alive.
(And a new secret third thing: Damian wasn't sure how to feel about it.)
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc prompt#dpxdc prompt#i promise this is a prompt#it just got very long#danyal al ghul au#my take on a danyal al ghul au#older brother danny#dpdc#dpxdc crossover#i know the usual gist is that danyal al ghul is a better knife thrower than he is a swordsman but hey#consider: phantom has a sword when he fights ghosts. how sick is that?#his ghost form having allusions to the LoA. its not obvious but its there#did i make danny brown skinned? yeah. because him being white or not is irrelevant to me and i wanted to make him darker skinned#thinking about the angst of bruce seeing his firstborn son going “i could stay with father!” and then said child being visibly crushed#when told no. and that he may never see his father ever. actually. if he fakes his death. and still doing it anyways for damian's sake#danny loves his little brother he just shows it in an unorthodox way. some of it is not his fault#also danny being an absolute grump in amity park is very funny to me. he's an arrogant little assassin child in AP who is only here for#his little brother's sake and safety. he loves his brother but that doesnt stop him from being an arrogant little brat#gremlin assassin child danny is so funny#i know this is very ironic for me to post after posting my thoughts on danyal al ghul aus and their missed potential#but actually this prompt is what spurred that post into creation in the first place actually.#because i was thinking about this au and then went “oh hey you know whats funny--” and then i#thought about it too much to the point where i had to make a post talking about it#tried to find a balance between danny being mature for his age and also still being a kid#like yeah he’s a trained assassin and has killed but also he’s a 10yo boy about to be separated - Assumingly permanently- from his family
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voltaical-art · 3 months
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im in agony. a little self indulgent but I think wyll deserves to be told he's loved and have a small breakdown about it
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radiance1 · 5 months
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Nasty Burger explosion happens, leaving Danny homeless and friendless, he gets adopted by Vlad but Vlad, in all of his ambition to get Danny as his son and even telling said boy such thing multiple times.
Genuinely doesn't know what to do.
He never, well, thought this far, and certainly never in the circumstances that made this possible.
He tries a few parenting techniques (that he's read from multiple books to get the perfect child) and nothing sticks both because of Danny's stubbornness and pettiness.
So, Vlad tries from a... different angle.
He doesn't need a perfect son, he realized, he just wanted one, and now that he's gotten one, he realizes that Danny would be the one to succeed Vladco in the off-chance (which is low as hell already) that Vlad someone gets taken out of commission.
So what does he do?
He shows Danny how fun the business world can be when you're on top of it. One of the giants, an Emperor among kings.
Slowly sinking your fangs into an enemy, backing them into a corner bit by bit, until before they realized it, they can do nothing but be a defenseless little grub. Watching them crumble to bits in their own panic, and by their own hand making their situation worse and worse until, with one final blow, nothing is left of them.
Either by their own hand, or yours.
Danny took to it like a fish to water and, dare Vlad say, they even drew closer throughout it. Not quite father and son, yet not enemies either.
He thinks the term would be... frenemies?
Yes, on the best of days allies and on every other day frenemies.
===
Danny doesn't... hate, Vlad. Yet he doesn't love him either, he thinks he likes Vlad at the very least. When the man backed off from trying to get him to be his son and replace his father.
Which was still a dick move considering his father had just died, but he's since managed to get over it. (The replacing his dad move, not his dad's death.)
Then Vlad started treating his less as a son and more of a... roommate, that he teaches business too. He will admit, he liked the change, gave him more room to grieve the loss of his family, and then, a while after that, Vlad showed him what made the business world... 'fun.'
And he was right, it is fun.
It was a great distraction from the pain of losing his family, and the fear that he would become like his dark future that he managed to avoid. He's not destroying the world, he's just destroying rival companies.
Way better in his opinion.
Of course, there are other 'Emperor among kings' out there, would be weird if there weren't honestly. To name a few, being Lex Luthor and Bruce Wayne.
In other words, a guy who hates an overpowered alien superhero and a himbo playboy.
Honestly, he doesn't really care about Lex Luthor, he's more of Vlad's chess mate rather than his. Who he does care for, however, is on Timothy Drake-Wayne.
Two years older than him, that is true, yet a fun chess mate all the same. Does he care for the boy's father and siblings? No, not really, not at all actually.
He's tried to corner the boy before (Most of which he planned out with his own chess set that Vlad got him, Vlad has one as well in fact), mostly on a whim really. To test the waters, so to speak. But, Timothy Drake succeeded his expectations and, well, more.
He tries more than once, gaining an inch, Timothy finds a way to gain two more. Corner him, and Drake finds a way out and even reserving the tides.
He's never able to completely corner Timothy Drake-Wayne, and Timothy Drake-Wayne has never been able to completely corner him, which is honestly what makes this so fun.
Vlad was right, the business world can be fun.
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sukunas-wife · 24 days
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What about the idea that baby Yuuji overhears the screams in the bedroom and thinks Sukuna is hurting mommy?🥺Mommy's little protector. Or the baby asks why they need a collar on the bed, but the mother lies that it is for their future dog/cat. Sukuna is unhappy, but is forced to get a pet because Yuuji is too happy
Hehe pervert 🤭 I’m joking 🥹🤍 but I love the idea
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This is the first time your little sweet heart Yuji wasn’t by your side. Today his heart was set on following Uraume around, he was set on following him convinced at times of the day he was just a ghost who would vanish into thin air. Uraume didn’t have a problem with letting his young master follow him as long as he didn’t have to slow down his own business.
You’d see them cross your path a few times that day, Yuji always waving his chubby hand at you with a bright smile before running off to catch up.
The first time Sukuna saw you that day was just before midday, you were out in the garden under the plum tree fingers grazing the fruits you craved. He strolled over scaring you when you felt two of his hands on your waist, the third reaching up with ease to pull down the golden plums you struggled to reach.
“Thank you,” you reached up to his face bringing him down to kiss his lips, he bit at your bottom lip before he pulled away looking at you amused, “Where’s my son?” You turned to face him, smiling as your eyes moved away from him, “OUR son wanted to assure Uraume is not a spirit. Yuji is set on following them around from dawn till dusk.”
You looked back up at Sukuna, he brought a hand up to each side of your waist, “Is that so?” You felt like prey when he pressed you back against the tree, his third arm pressed over head against the bark, his fourth hand came up grabbing a strand of your hair running it between his fingers. “Well, now that you don't have our little brat with you, what are you going to do?” He leaned down closer to your face, his scent filled your air accompanied by his low suggestive tone, “More importantly what are we going to do together.” All it took in that moment was for his lips to meet yours while he brought you closer to his body, holding you close and whispering filthy words against your lips.
It was four or five hours past midday, one or two hours before dinner. Uraume was still on the move with purpose in their step and their mind set on completing whatever tasks Sukuna had assigned them that morning.
One of those tasks was to bring fresh robes to Sukuna’s separate chambers. Which lead Uraume to enter though your shared chambers and they would’ve gladly ignored the sound of wooden frame of your bed creaking. Not have batted an eye at Lord Sukuna’s muffled grunts and your quiet cries. Uraume, the master of “I mind my own damn business but I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS” went about business until they heard the small voice.
“Uwaume! Mommy’s crying! We need to help her!” Uraume quickly snapped around snatching up Yuji, “Don’t worry Young Yuji, your mother is perfectly-“ Both of them were cut off by the sound of wood cracking and a slam. Followed by Lord Sukuna’s voice reverberating clearly through the heavy wooden doors to your private chamber. The last thing was your weak voice saying Sukuna’s name. The string of curses and your name from his father had Yuji shoving his way out of Uraume’s hold and running to your doors.
Behind closed doors you almost peed yourself hearing the bangs on the door and Yuji’s screams. “MOMMY MOMMY ARE YOU OKAY!? DADDY IF YOUR HURT MOMMY IM IMA! IM GONNA…” the banging stopped, “LEMME GO LEEMMEEEE GGOOOOAAAGGGGHHHHHHH” you could almost see the way Yuji was kicking and squirming in Uraume’s hold.
Your heart was racing, and you took a deep breath, “Su,” you looked down at him where he was still laying on you. He looked up at you amused, “Your son just threatened me through a door for hurting you.” His chest rumbled as he let out a breathy laugh. You rolled your eyes, “OUR SON, just heard you trying to give him a sibling and your humoured that all that came from it was he was threatening you?” Your eyebrows raised with a slight smile, you were amused but still concerned for what your little Yuji heard.
Sukuna groaned rolling off your body to avoid crushing you entirely, your bed creaked and finished falling to the floor as the last two legs gave out. You tried not to laugh at Sukuna’s slightly widened eyes. “Your next bed will be one of those made of solid cedar. These raised beds are flimsy and break always.” Rolling over to his side you placed a hand on his chest, your head resting on his shoulder, “Or maybe, you shouldn't let your ego get so big and see if you can break every new bed you bring into my chambers?” Sukuna looked away, both arms on the side you were pressed up against holding you close, “I’ll think about it. Now come here, take that collar off before it taints your skin red.”
Almost an hour passed of Uraume holding Yuji like a sack of potatoes under his arm to keep him from running to your room. In that hour you briefly fell asleep under the graze of Sukuna’s hands. The red leather Sukuna had his name branded into was pulled off your neck and thrown onto your bed to be cleaned up later with your bed.
Waking up from your short rest you got up, Sukuna helping tie your Obi and managing to loosely tie your hair in a nice manner. Of course you couldn’t walk away from him without having your ass smacked. Your walking was cut short the moment you tried and couldn’t take more than a few steps and your own legs caving causing you to fall into your husband who was smirking down at you with lidded eyes. The puff in chest, pride in his lidded eyes, the smug “heh,” you almost missed made you side eye him. “You were the one who asked me,” he mimicked your voice poorly, “Please please fuck me Sukuna, give me everything.”
While he snickered he assisted in helping you sit in your shared chambers bed while poking and prodding at you and your sensitive bruising body.
Sukuna was chuckling to himself as he pulled the blanket over your lap, “I’ll call for Uraume or one of your little maids to bring you dinner. I’ll tell them you’ve fallen ill and it’s best to let you eat and rest.”
There you sat, watching your husband look back at you one last time with a faint smile before he left. You sat in the silence taking a breath, that was until you heard a familiar scream and the sound of little feet running in your direction, “OI BRAT! I JUST TOLD YOU YOUR MOTHERS ILL!” You laughed silently at Sukuna’s yelling, Yuji who let out a little grunt and shoved with all his weight against the wooden doors, “mmoommyy!!?!” He ran to your side of the bed doing everything to climb up, even pulling your blanket down so he could hold on and pull himself up. When he was finally on the bed he sat on your legs looking up at you with those big round eyes, “Are you okay?” His little hands came together, he was looking at you with so much concern it squeezed your heart making you wanted to kiss all over his face and fawn over him.
So you did, he laughed being pulled into your chest as you kissed all over his face and squeezing him in a tight hug that he did his best to hug you back. “Yes baby I’m alright, daddy and I were just having a discussion and you know your daddy.” Yuji laughed, eyes closing while he smiled big “hehe he breaks things.”
It wasn’t long before Sukuna walked in with one of your ladies, she was holding a tray with your dinner, Yuji bounced off your lap and onto the floor “Wanna go see what daddy broke.” You watched as he ran to your room, pushing past the door. Your lady in waiting helped you adjust yourself to be able to eat whatever was served. That was until you heard Yuji’s loud cheery voice “WERE GETTING A DOGGY!?”
You were confused as you looked at Sukuna and he seemed equally confused until you saw his eyes widen slightly before he went back to a neutral expression.
“Yuji, we are not getting a mutt.” You watched as he got closer to your door and you understood why he came to that idea, you looked down at your food feeling heat rise in your cheeks, “but it even had a name!” Yuji came running out of your room with the bright red collar in hand, an oval token hanging that said “Princess” . He had the biggest smile and was visibly excited.
Your lady in waiting was quick to dismiss herself as you waved her off, “We ARE getting a dog Yuji, come here.” You waved him over moving your tray off your lap, “Y/n- we’re not getting a- we are Ryomen.” You gave him a look and he gave you a look. You were both stuck in a stare off, the tension was there, “Ooouu that’s why daddy broke the bed, he can’t say no.” Sukuna looked taken aback, “I said no! And No is no!” He crossed his arms over his chest staring down at You and Yuji who sat in your lap holding the collar. Yuji looked up at you with a smile kicking his feet waiting to hear what you would say.
“Sukuna.” Your brows raised before you angled your head taking the collar from Yuji, “Why wouldn’t we get a DOG if we have a COLLAR.” you spoke through gritted teeth and he kept a hard stare on you, Yuji brought his little fists up to cover his smile, he was looking up at you with stars in his eyes, if anyone could bend his father like bamboo it was you.
Sukuna sighed and rolled his eyes, “FINE- but I'M choosing it, and NO ONE gets a say.” Yuji’s cheer of pure joy made him kick out his legs and throw out his arms. He was quick to hug you and kiss your chefs before running to his dad hugging his leg, “thank you daddy.” Sukuna couldn’t deny he had a soft spot in his soul for his son, especially when he placed a hand on Yuji’s head giving his head a rub. “Sure brat.”
A week had passed and you were outside with Yuji, he was using a stick like a sword attacking a tree making all sorts of sounds as if he were really fighting for his life.
“Oouuuuaaahhh” Yuji’s hands dropped to his sides when he saw his daddy emerge from the path.
“Mommy…” you were just as shocked. Here came Sukuna tether in hand. Until he got to both of you, “well?”
“Sukuna…” you looked at Yuji who looked excited, his eyes were wide and shining, his smile was big and his little fists were shaking in excitement as he stood there basically vibrating in excitement, “That’s not a dog..”
“IT'S A TIGER!!” You didn’t catch Yuji as he ran and hugged the tiger, your eye was twitching while he buried his face in the tiger's neck, his little arms not enough to encircle the beast.
“It’s better than a mutt,” you watched as he knelt, on arms resting on the tigers back, the other leaving firm pats on the tigers chest. Keeping the tether in his hand. “It’s tame also, she came from a palace where she was used to guard someone’s children, so she’ll take care of Yuji.”
You wanted to reject the idea just to hear Yuji’s little voice “I love you princess.” It squeezed your heart to see how cute he looked hugging her, she sat bringing one of her big paws over his shoulder like she was actually hugging him.
“I don’t think… I don't think it's good.- you hear that Yuji? I don’t think your mom wants us to keep her?” He looked at you while hugging Princess, his eyes started to tear up, dammit you never thought he’d use that against you, much less would it be that effective., “Please mommy?” He was looking up at you, and Sukuna was too, behind his son he had a sly smile, turning your plan against you, then there was princess, who looked up at you, purring while Yuji held on tighter, “Fine- but no Tigers on my bed, and maybe a new name… I don’t think the collar we have was meant for a fully grown… tiger..”
Yuji ran hugging you, “Daddy can get her a new collar and we can think of a new name like… like… lightning!” You snorted trying to not laugh, “Lightning is cute Yu, but I think she needs a better name.” He hummed, thinking while looking around, “What about lilies like the flower?” His little finger pointed past you, you turned to see the tiger lily he was pointing at, “It’s a pretty name if you like it.”
He walked over to Lily, his hands on her cheeks fluffing the tufts of fur, “What do you think lily?” The only response he got was Lily nuzzling his face with her nose, “I think she likes it.”
You looked at Sukuna and didn’t miss the smile on his face and the soft expression on his face. He loved his brat. You knew that he didn’t just find a tiger in some palace, he had to have already planned it to some extent.
Walking to his side you hugged his side, “I love you.” Doing your best with your free hand to pull him down, you kissed his cheek and he let out a “heh” sound. “So how long have you really had this planned?” You cocked a brow with a sure smile, “From the day of Yuji’s birth it was made known to me, one of those fools that live scared behind palace walls imported more than just a few.” You saw the smug look on his face and shook your head with a smile, “You are beyond belief.”
“LOOK” both of you turned to Yuji who had jumped on Lily trying to ride her, “Go lily go!” She only looked back at him and you looked away with a smile before Sukuna dropped the tether, “You heard the boy Lily.”
All you heard was Yuji’s scream when Lily started a decent pace run. Your mouth opened slightly, “su- he’ll be fine.” Was all Sukuna said cutting you off before wrapping both arms on his side around you. “Now, let’s talk about your punishment for defying me so openly in front of my son.” He took your jaw in one of his free hands, making you look up at him, those lidded eyes and sly smile made your nerves tingle, “Oh?”
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Here’s my shop btw 🥺
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ghostbsuter · 6 months
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Damian was 10 when he was shipped off to his father.
He was 10 when he finally decided enough was enough, packed his stuff, called Mara, and the ball went rolling.
The moment Talia left the mansion, the DNA test confirmed, and Bruce emotionally compromised, did he finally move.
He'd stared his father down, felt nothing when he stood up and mild annoyance bloomed when his father asked– demanded– where he was going.
"You're a fool if you believe I will stay here." He spat, eyening the man in disdain.
It became very apparent that Damian wasn't what Bruce thought he'd be, what Talia thought he was.
"Your mother entrusted me with your safety–"
"I don't need protection. Mother wouldn't care if I stayed or not." He blinks. "Where is the cave? I wish to use the computer, I have people to contact."
Reluctantly, Bruce shows him the way, questions of who and why, and the plans he apparently had were asked.
Damian answers with vague wordings and enough open spaces for interpretation. Words greatest detective, he can figure it out himself without damian spelling it out for him.
When they do arrive in the batcave, Tim Drake— Robin— was sitting at the computer.
Huffing, Damian shoved the entire chair away from the table, taking its place and started typing.
"W— hey! What—? Who?" Tim looked between Bruce and Damian, despite being sleep deprived his eyes caught on the similarities, mouth dry and mind calculating.
"Does Dick know?" Is all he asks, leaning back and watching the younger boy work.
"Not yet."
A heavy sigh.
"Silence," the boy huffs, annoyed. "I'll have to make a call."
Glaring daggers, he pulls out a old burner phone, pressing the single number saved inside and waits.
"Damian."
"Hello, brother."
('Oh. Did he have another?' Tim wonders, watching Batman's face, blank like a paper sheet. Nothing. It feels like all his efforts of bringing the man back were just flushed.)
Or in simpler words:
Danyal al Ghul, the first successor of the demons head, born with his twin Athanasia al Ghul, to be the future of the league.
They were reborn with their former memories, stuck in place, constantly watched and trained. Manipulated. Weaponized.
All for a man playing immortal.
They'd only started planning when two more children came into the picture, Damian and Mara Al Ghul.
Danyal now Daniel "Danny" and Athanasia now Eleanor "Ellie" Nightingale took matters into their own hands and separated to take the kids in and end this.
End the league. End the cycle of whatever this, this cult is, and take over.
In many universes, Ra's al Ghul does not die, always returns, wielding his people like mere weapons.
In this universe, Danyal al Ghul is acknowledged as a traitor, killer of the Demons head and Older Brother, borderline father even, to his tiny brother Damian al Ghul.
In this universe, he raises Damian instead of Talia, shows him the cracks of this careful manipulated picture and listens when Ellie tells of her travels to this tiny child with a sad sad fate.
In this universe, Ellie takes in their tiny cousin, shielding her from the cruel eyes of a man not worthy. She trains her, shows her the ropes and takes her along when she leaves.
In this universe, Damian al Ghul and Mara al Ghul live a good live, protected by the twins of old souls and have a somewhat normal if not very complicated childhood.
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I did a thing! I loved Ben & Cal's relationship, so here are a few of my favourite moments in S4. 🩵
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hypewinter · 8 months
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After reforming Dan, Danny gets it into his head that he can reform Pariah Dark too. He takes a break from his kingly duties to go down to Earth. Both as a way to teach Pariah the wonders of humanity and to make sure Dan has actually changed his ways.
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New dad Astarion who is about to see his newborn child for the first time.
Of course, he expects his child to be the personification of serene beauty and divine grace. Them to have their father’s silken silvern locks, his immaculately chiselled features—the artwork perfected by Tav’s wonderful watercolour eyes…
And then he actually sees the child and—well—everybody assures him that, yes, Astarion, all babies look like that barely a half hour after birth…
He kind of has to take that at face value because he hasn’t seen an awful lot of newborns in his lifetime.
But it would’ve been nice if someone had told him that newborns happen to look like shrivelled potatoes, because he’s really, really trying to not let his bewilderment show. 
Astarion swallows. 
Tav’s beautiful eyes are watching him, waiting for a reaction—an enthusiastic one, no less. 
Maybe Tav will believe that he’s overcome with emotions at seeing his firstborn child? 
“Oh my, darling, I’m…speechless,” is all he can choke out, though, being rather proud that it’s at least not a lie. 
To his luck, Tav only nods dreamily, her full attention back on the odd little bundle in her arms.
“Isn’t she perfect?”
Yes, perfectly hideous. 
Astarion only hums in a way of reply.
That—his daughter, he supposes—is with no doubt one of the ugliest things he’s ever seen, but he has a feeling that his honesty wouldn’t be appreciated after Tav laboured for hours to give birth to this…potato-baby.
“Come, hold her, Astarion,” Tav says, then, bidding him to sit next to her on the bed.
The mattress shifts under Astarion’s weight and he obediently holds his arms out so that Tav can gently place the sleeping child against his chest.
Now that Astarion can take a better look, he can confirm that his daughter’s hair is of an indefinable colour and that her features are neither his nor Tav’s, plain as can be. Surely it won’t stay like that?
He and Tav are so ridiculously beautiful, their child can only be drop-dead gorgeous, right?
Astarion’s stomach drops indeed when, suddenly, something occurs to him. 
Oh dear, what if it’s his fault? He has no recollection of his family whatsoever; it’s very much possible that he and his immaculate looks are the exception in his lineage, and that he’s passed on only those mysterious less-than-perfect genes…Tav, as per usual, can’t be the issue!
Astarion is still catastrophizing when the bundle in his arms begins to stir.
All of a sudden, gold-speckled pale green eyes are looking up at him as if to ask what the fuck this weirdo’s problem might be. 
“Oh,” the weirdo in question exclaims at once. “Darling, look, she has your eyes!”
Tav, hugging him from behind, rests her chin on his shoulder, so she can watch as Astarion’s finger tenderly strokes their baby’s chubby cheek.
Their daughter also has, as it turns out, ten fingers and toes, a cute little nose and a hungry mouth—everything that’s supposed to be there is there, and it seems to be working fine, too—which is a huge relief. 
And aren’t those the tiniest pointy ears Astarion has ever seen? Let alone the unexpectedly strong fingers grasping at his!
Astarion, worries forgotten in a heartbeat, can’t help but smile at the baby in his arms. 
She is perfect, after all. 
Tav, face hidden in the crook of his neck, begins to tremble against his back. 
For a second, Astarion thinks she’s crying but then her laughter fills the chamber. It takes her a good moment to articulate whatever it is she finds so very funny.
“She'll grow out of it, you know?” Tav giggles in between her fits of laughter. 
Astarion stiffens. “Of what?”
“The turnip look. That’s what you’ve been worrying about the whole time, haven't you?”
“I was leaning more towards potatoes—but yes, I might’ve been a little worried about that,” Astarion admits sheepishly, although a grin is already tugging at his lips.  
Regaining her composure, Tav reaches over Astarion’s shoulder, her hand joining his as they get to know their child.
“Give it a couple of days and she will look like your proper little elf—beautiful just like her father.”
A content sigh leaves Astarion’s lips, right before he presses them against Tav’s temple.
“That’s the second best news I’ve heard today, my heart, truly.”
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