#my little love au

[sokovianheadtilt]

Arrival

Bucky Barnes x black!reader

Summary: Bucky and Y/N prepare for the arrival of their babies

Warnings: Childbirth, inaccurate medical proceedings (it’s 4 am i don’t feel like researching my bad) 

A/N: The Barnes family is GROWING, i love this au so much omg. anything for domestic Bucky Barnes <3

Word Count: 1.2k

SERIES MASTERLIST

With Y/N being almost 9 months pregnant and knowing that twins never come on their actual due date, Bucky was freaking out a bit. He spent every day checking to ensure every bag was packed, the car was ready, and that you were comfortable. But when you shook him awake, telling him that your water broke, he was panicking. He quickly jumped out of bed, pulling on a shirt and sweatpants before taking you to the car. He ran back inside to grab Logan who cutely asked “Baby sisters are coming?” 

Bucky couldn’t believe he was going to be a dad again. Yes, again. Just because he became Logan’s father when the boy was 5, doesn’t mean he’s going to see the birth of the twins as his first time being a father. Just because his little girls were biologically his doesn’t mean his little boy isn’t his. He did his best to reassure Logan that nothing would change between them when the girls arrived, that’d he would love him just the same. He dropped Logan off at Steve’s house before taking you both to the hospital. The nurses got you situated and now you had to play the waiting game. 

Hour 3 - 4 centimeters dilated 

Y/N was laying in her bed as Bucky sat next to her bed, holding her hand “How long were you in labor with Logan for?” he asked “6 hours. I walked my way to the hospital and just slid out of me after that” you told him. Every year you told Logan about the day he was born, leaving out the part where Brock basically forced you to go by yourself (a/n my mom does this for me every year and i love it). Bucky’s eyes widened at that information “You walked to the hospital?! God I hate that prick, wanna fucking choke him out” he muttered as you giggled “It’s fine baby. I clearly got him out right? Now we have an adorable 6-year-old running around” Bucky smiled softly at the mention of his son “Yeah we do” he kissed the back of your hand.

Hour 6 - 6 centimeters dilated

Y/N groaned and threw her head back against the hospital before looking down at her belly “It cannot be that comfortable in there. I know you want to meet us. Do you know how you can do that? By getting out of me” she huffed as Bucky held back a laugh “They’ll be here soon doll. We can’t force them out” he reasoned with you as you whined “I know but they make me huge and I’m tired of them using my bladder as a kickball” you pouted with Bucky standing up to kiss your head “Just a little longer”

Hour 10 - 7 centimeters dilated 

The nurse suggested walking around the hospital floor to help speed up the process a bit and you would do anything to get these girls out of you. Bucky held your hand as he walked beside you. “Babe help me get my mind off this, talk to me about something” you suggested as Bucky thought for a moment “What’s your dream wedding?” he asked and you looked at him with a small smile “Well, when I was younger I always thought I would make everything pink” she giggled “It seemed perfect in my head, but now…I don’t know. My last wedding wasn’t anything special. Just a ride to the courthouse because Brock didn’t want to pay for a wedding. Got a little white dress from target and made the biggest mistake of my life. The only good thing that man gave me was Logan and he’s barely getting any credit for that. I’m not sure what I would want my dream wedding to be yet, but when I figure it out I’ll let you know” you looked up at him as Bucky kissed your cheek “Whatever you want, it’s yours” he smiled softly, a fond look overtaking his eyes 

“I love you so much Buck”

“I love you too”

Hour 15 - 9 centimeters dilated 

You were about to cry you were so frustrated. You were almost at the finish line but it felt so far away and you were losing hope that your twins were coming anytime soon. Bucky did his best to keep your spirits up with his words of encouragement. “It’s okay pretty girl, we’ll meet them soon. They just like being this close with their mama” he told you. “But I wanna hold them” you cried “I want them out of me and in my arms. Oh- what if they have your eyes? Or my eyes? Aw they’re gonna be beautiful” Bucky chuckled “Of course they will darling” he caressed your cheek “Just a little longer, you got this, my strong girl” 

Hour 18 - 10 centimeters dilated 

When the doctor confirmed that you were fully dilated and ready to push, you started to panic a bit. You’ve given birth before but to twins? What if something goes wrong? What if they take even longer to come out? You looked over at Bucky and whimpered a bit “I’m scared” you admitted to him and he went to cup your face in his hands “You can do this. They’re finally ready to come. And all of this is going to be so worth it when we’re looking at our little princesses right?” he told you as you nodded and took a deep breath and started to push when you were told.

Hour 20 

  After pushing for what felt like forever, you finally gave birth to Aurora and Arabella Barnes. You’ve always wanted to do the stereotypical twins have the same first letter with their names and plus you found the names pretty adorable. You were holding Aurora and Bucky was holding Arabella. They were fast asleep and swaddled in their blankets with little baby hats on their head and they were the most perfect little things you’ve ever seen, along with their brother of course. 

They haven’t opened their eyes yet and you knew they would barely be able to see anything but you wanted to see what their eyes would look like. They had Bucky’s nose, your lips, little chin dimples, they were perfect. You looked up at Bucky and saw that he was crying “Aw babe…” you smiled at him and he looked over at you “I just..oh my god” he sniffled a bit “Look at ‘em. They’re our babies” you giggled “Yeah they are honey”

You looked back down at Aurora and saw she opened her eyes and gasped at what you saw “Bucky, Bucky! Look at her eyes” you grinned and teared up as you saw that she had one blue eye…and one brown eye. “Oh my god” he whispered “Whoa…” “I know!” you giggled and leaned down to kiss her nose “Hi pretty girl, I’m your mama. I’m so glad you and your sister are finally here” you said to her, watching Aurora as she squirmed a little. 

Your full attention was on her you almost didn’t hear Bucky’s gasp. “Doll, guess who just opened their eyes?” your eyes widened as he brought Arabella closer to you and saw that her eyes were the same as her sisters. “Our baby girls” you looked up at him and leaned up to kiss him, happy that you both walked in as a family of three, leaving as a family of five.

#sokovianheadtilt #my little love au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x pregnant reader #dad!bucky barnes #bucky barnes #black!reader #female!reader

[galaxylover06]

Anybody care for some little ponies?

Made the sonic one a couple days ago and ended up loving it, so now there's a tails and Amy to match, making an AU I suppose. Enjoy!

Edit: realized an AU needs a name, I've decided on

"MLP: Friendship got Faster"

#sth #sonic art #sonicfanart #sonic fanart #sonic artist #mlp #mlp fim #mlp art #mlp fanart #my little pony #dude i love this show #I'm so glad i started rewatching #sonic #tails #amy #sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #tails the fox #tails fanart #amy fanart #amy rose fanart #mlp au #mlp: friendship got faster #mlp fgf #friendship got faster AU #boom #ace rose #two tailed

[veramitar]

Young overlords ready to paint the neighborhood red.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin rosie #alastor and rosie #Child Alastor loves hardware shopping AU #He and little Rosie discuss 'projects' over tea parties and sleepovers #This hazbin my floater for a month now #art #illustration

[babydarkstar]

honestly no wonder harrow forced ianthe to lobotomize her so she could save gideon. listen…LISTEN…if i was a secret-war-crime cult nunlet princess worshipped by my entire planet and the only person that (barely) kept me in check was my childhood nemesis—a butch a year older than me, towering over me in stature and physical prowess, and so hot it made my teeth hurt from how hard my jaw clenched in her presence, who wielded a two-handed seven-foot sword and had irritatingly huge biceps and told very lewd stupid jokes and also learned how to wield an entirely new weapon and be my bodyguard with startling accuracy in three months—only to have us finally learn to trust each other because we got invited to a magic murder mystery and then before the bubble burst i spilled the worst secret about myself that i was born because my parents murdered an entire generation and tried to Kill Her along with them and she just wouldnt die, and i told her this expecting a swift death i believed i deserved, only for her to fucking cradle me in her big butch arms and kiss me on my forehead with her soft butch mouth and just. forgive me for a shameful weight ive carried my entire life and then MAKE AN ACTUAL NECRO/CAV VOW with me despite every evil thing i have done to her……to have her tell me, in the end, bleeding and broken after putting up the most beautiful and glorious fight of her life, that she understands purpose and she understands duty and she knows loyalty more fiercely than ever now, that she knows who she is to me, that there is no her without me….to have her backed into a corner and make the ultimate sacrifice…..for me…..to recite scriptural wedding vows of eternity to me in her last wisps of soul-consciousness…..if i thought there was even a snowflake’s chance in the pyre that i could save her by turning myself into her very own locked tomb, i’d be begging ianthe tridentweirdius to crack my skull open and turn me to mush too, goddamn. i understand you harrowhark girl you don’t have to explain a thing to me. god said you couldn’t undo the lyctor’s bond bc it’d kill you. you told god and his angels that not even a lyctor’s bond could outshine the power of female spite and lesbianism and they didn’t listen. they didn’t believe you. but i heard you loud and clear and i was 17 and hormonal and hopelessly romantic not too long ago unlike those fucking dinosaurs and i’m saying it’s valid it’s what i would have done and really everyone should be thanking you for not being worse and more wretched about it, all things considered

#i think about gideon nav every day #she makes me want to eat drywall #shes so jesus shes so her own thing shes so god and savior It Is Finished divinity of love and sacrifice #honestly so much of harrow is so so relatable to me shes so real for everything she does #her little griddlehark meetcute au her little divine highness au #ive already waxed poetic about the harrow nova au #sorry to keep waxing poetic about this but i really am rotted about them #like im going insane. tamsyn muir when i get you tamsyn when i catch you #griddlehark #tlt spoilers #harrowhark nonagesimus #i am you as you are me we are one and two and two and one #i cannot conceive of a universe without you. #should i forget you let my right hand also be forgotten; add more also. if aught but death part me and thee. #I FELL INTO THE WATER AND NOW IM FREE

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

my resident evil MLP AU!

the winters!!!

re7 & 8 antagonists

#ethan winters #mia winters #rosemary winters #rose winters #resident evil #resident evil fanart #rebhfun #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #re8 #mlp #mlp au #mlp fim #shadows of rose #my little resident #funfact rosemary (like the plant) symbolizes love and rememberance i hope that ruins ur day like it ruined mine #had a great time coming up with their cutiemarks #u cant see but rosemary inherits ethans chest heart marking #mia makes me sad #throws up and cries #i hate that capcom put her in a cage for re7 and 8 #its so tragic how all the things she did trying to keep her family together ended up snowballing into a even bigger problem #and now shes left all alone #it makes me so sad oh my gosh #i love u mia 😭😭😭😭

[ferretenjoyernineteen19]

[tw: gore, horror content]

Not sure how much the mlp infection AU has taken over tumblr yet, but I hope you enjoy my take regardless! :3

#my little pony #mlp #mlp virus #mlp infection au #mlp infected au #fluttershy #twilight sparkle #my art #horror art #fanart #really loved making this actually #working in grayscale was hard but definitely worth it #mlp brainrot #save me mlp brainrot #mlp brainrot save me #ferretenjoyerart

[chikorra]

"You're safe now, my darling" The knight rescued her precious princess from the evil Gabriel Agreste

=>>Reference that inspired this piece. :3 =>>Contact me through these socials if you like! <3

#miraculous ladybug #my stuff #sketch #miraculous fanart #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrinette #if I've known this would be blown up I could have added more lines into it but yeah... my bad huhu #adrienette #fairytale au #pencil art #art #oh my god guys this is the fastest note increasing I've ever gotten 😳 #thank you all for the notes I really appreciate it 🥺😭✨😢 #oh dear I just woke up and almost fainted seeing the note numbers lol #dang should have taken a little bit more time to polish it a little but still HUWWWAHH THANK YOU ALL #OH MY GOD FANDOM FIGURES LIKED THIS TOO!!??? MY HONOR AAAJAKQKQNDBDJD #btw I've always wanted to treat my future partner like this because “Love the right person and you will become their princess”

[norris55s]

chaotic texts - lando norris

reader x lando norris texts except they’re crazy (pt. 2)

pt. 1 pt. 3 pt. 4

warnings: suggestive texts [18+ please], mentions of cheating (but it isn’t cheating)

a/n: i tried to include jealous/whiny lando per requests!

————————————————————————

#yall i love that you love my silly little texts #better seize spring break #f1 #f1 au #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #lando norris #lando norris au #lando norris smau #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris texts

[honehonn3honey]

Birthday boy 🎂

#Happy birthday to all birthday people today #Why do you think that boy Kacchan pouts? I would like to read you in the comments or rb #I know Bakugo’s parents have enough money for a big custom cake but do you think I have the ability to do it? Lol #Or is it just a detail from Inko? A homemade and loving cake for Katsuki? #An AU where they are true childhood friends please #I love the color of the cake #it’s something that I would eat with these sugar star shaped sparks that for some reason you chew and taste a little vanilla #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #〔 honneydraws✩°˖🫐 ⋆｡˚꩜˙ 〕 #my fanart #my art #my post #my hero academia #mha bakugou #mha fanart #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha art #birthday gift #bnha #art #digitalart #digital art #digital drawing #artists on tumblr #illustration #drawing #爆豪勝己誕生祭2024

[rochenn]

General Dooku and his best friend electric judgement <3

#i missed jedi dooku too much so here's a travel doodle #this guy would love prague. i'm getting so much au inspiration here #count dooku #my art #experimenting a little with the csp posterization effect on the clothes/skin

[sokovianheadtilt]

Dancing In The Dark

Bucky Barnes x black!reader

Summary: Y/N is 6 months pregnant, Bucky finds her in the kitchen at 3am indulging in her slightly odd cravings

Warnings: Pure fluff 

A/N: Just realized I haven’t added anything to the My Little Love universe since last June…my bad y’all I’m gonna be more consistent I swear :) also, HAPPY PRIDE🏳️‍🌈 (p.s., there’s one line in here that may seem like a taylor swift reference but it’s not, I just thought it was cute lol)

Word Count: 844

SERIES MASTERLIST

Y/N glanced over at the clock sitting on her bedside table, the red glowing numbers reading 3:17am. She sighed and slowly got out of bed, rubbing her large belly that’s housing her two twin girls. When her and Bucky first found out, he was ecstatic that his family was growing at a faster pace, you’ve always wanted twins and now your dream is coming true. The only downside was that your precious angels gave you the weirdest cravings at the most unpredictable times, like right at this moment in the middle of the night. 

Y/N slowly got out of bed, looking over at Bucky to make sure he was still sleeping. You hated waking him up, it always made you feel guilty. You quietly made your way downstairs and looked in the fridge before finding what you wanted, pickles and mustard. You grabbed the items and went to sit at the kitchen table before opening the door, pouring some mustard onto it and took a bite. You let out a soft moan at the seemingly delicious taste and kept eating. 

You were on your third pickle before hearing footsteps coming down the stairs. Glancing up, you saw Bucky walking over to you with a sleepy smile. 

“Again sweetheart? Come on, you know my body knows when you’re not laying next to me” he chuckled and went over to press a kiss to your head “And this is not healthy” he gently took the jar and closed it 

“I know baby, but the babies- you know, the ones you put inside me?” she said as he interrupted “Oh please that night you were begging me to stay inside you, are you really shocked?” Y/N looked up at him “Yes, I was there, now what I was saying, your children give me these cravings, take it up with them” you told him, watching as he turned your chair towards himself, moving to kneel in front of your large belly. 

“My little princesses, Aurora and Arabella, maybe you should let your momma snack on some carrots or something so she can help you guys grow big and strong” he gently rubbed your belly as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I can’t wait to meet you both. I hope you look like your momma. She’s the most ethereal woman I have ever seen and you’re gonna love her” he pressed a gentle kiss to your stomach “Goodnight my angels” he stood up and went to put the pickles and mustard back in the fridge. 

You got up from the table and went to follow him, tears falling down your cheeks as you sniffled. Bucky looked up at you and frowned “Baby what’s wrong?” he cupped your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “I-I just got so lucky you know? I have my dream man, dream life, gonna have 3 wonderful kids” you sniffled again “It’s all so perfect”

Bucky smiled at your declaration. He never thought he’d be able to have this type of life either. But the greatest day of his life was when you moved in next door, and now he’s here. 

“It is perfect my love” he pressed a kiss to her forehead “Because everyday when I see you, our little boy, and our little girls? I thank the heavens every day” 

He moved his hands to your waist, starting to gently sway with you in the refrigerator light, despite no music playing. Y/N moved her hands to rest on his shoulders, resting her forehead on his as he hummed gently. The way Bucky treats you is so…unlike you’ve ever experienced. He treats you like the finest china on the shelf, with so much love and respect, so gentle and caring, you never want to give that up. You never want to wake up in the mornings without him kissing you awake, making you breakfast in bed, watching him take care of a little boy who he treats like his own, you never want this to end. 

“Marry me” you whispered as you felt him stop moving and humming “What?” he said gently as you pulled away to look him in the eye “Marry me” you set a hand on his cheek “Bucky I never want to know what it’s like to live without you. You love Logan and our girls so much, you treat us all so well, and I just want to make our forever love official. So, James Buchanan Barnes, will you marry me?” Bucky looked at you with a stunned expression as he teared up “Y/N, my gorgeous angel, of course, I’ll marry you” he leaned in to kiss you passionately. When he pulled away, you saw the tear tracks down his face “Sweetheart, I promise to give you the wedding you deserve, anything you want, I’ll make it happen” he kissed your nose “Now, my sweet fiance, let’s go to bed” he took your hand, closed the fridge, bringing the both of you back upstairs, as fiances.

#sokovianheadtilt #my little love au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x pregnant reader

[starry-bi-sky]

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

[tsukk1]

i’m so normal about baby shouto and big brother touya

#wow i love the infulx of todofam art #most especially baby shou #todoroki touya #todoroki shouto #shouto #touya #todorokis #bro how else do u tag this #todoroki #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #i love them my little pookies #brotherhood au #baby shouto #my art #don't u all think they would probably look the most alike out of all the sibs .. #also shouto is a true youngest sibling in the sense that he copies everything touya does

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Horse Meshi. Delicious, in Horse.

#dungeon meshi #laois touden #marcille donato #senshi #chilchuk tims #Anne II #I am over a week late to make this relevant but dear god I love the kelpie chapter. #if not for the several layers of foreshadowing then the reveal that nearly everyone in the party is a passionate horse lover. #Truly the best part of dungeon meshi is the sheer love of horses each character has. Fantastic equines by Ryoko Kui. #Chilchuck gets to be a little wary given what goes down in the bicorn chapter. #Rest in peace Anne I and Anne II. You were beautiful horses. #The pain I felt upon re-reading dungeon meshi and realizing that Senshi called the kelpie Anne...Hurts bad! #By the way I have strong feeling about MLP AU with these characters - but I would like to assert that Senshi is earth pony coded #and chilchuck is pegasus coded. I was struggling to draw my vision and went with whatever my pen chose. #Laios is a griffin because...come on if he made a MLP AU of his friends he would be nothing else.

[cracklewink]

Part 4.5/5 of my mlp infection AU, Harmony Syndrome!

I had to split up the finale because I had too many ideas for it and it got too long lol. The actual final part will be along soon!

#mlp #my little pony #mlp infection au #mlp infection #mlp fim #sunset shimmer #Sunset's final message #Making Sunset the mc of my infection au because shes my favorite #sorry twilight i love you too #SS's mutant star horn is supposed to kind of look like a crown like twilight's old element tiara thing #SHE IS A PRINCESS IN MY HEARTTTTTT

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

#i feel like I'm going to reread this and want to add other stuff #but I also just want to post it and get it out there #fun fact i scribbled a bunch of lines down at 2am bc i didn't want to forget them #im bad at multiple drafts #my writing #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #batman #i live to make everybody dramatic #but also i subscribe to a world where clockwork doesn't know how NOT to be dramatic #lol he's a ghost from all of time he doesn't know how to speak to humans and tailor it to the century let alone the decade #and his favorite little girl who calls him clocky loves how he speaks so #he doesn't need to change for nobody #nor feels inclined to #also I feel like as god he's way more inclined to threaten to get what he wants than like...be vulnerable #jazz: let's unpack that #clockwork: we never do #jazz: are you saying that because it's true or because that's what you want to be true? #clockwork: ... #also I cannot take credit for BITCH I MIGHTWING #wish i could #that is cash money right there #shoutout to 11thsense