#he wants a child with Al

[the-nexus]

"Deal with my mother. Please." He says this through perpetually grinning, yet gritted teeth, before slithering his way into the next room with not even a modicum of context given. In walks Mother St. Cyr, with baby pictures of a once human Alastor that the Radio Demon can't believe she actually brought with her when she'd passed on into the afterlife.

" Lucifer, my sweet child! Won't you come entertain your mother in law with baby talk? Darling Charlie has grown up to be so beautiful and smart, just like her father, but when will you have a sweet baby for me to dote on from you and Alastor? I'd say you two owe me for not getting it done before we died! "

@radiodaemon

And he is left in confused silence as Alastor departs. Lucifer has no words. Why the sudden need to flee from his mother after all the trouble Lucifer had gone through to get her visitations?

As she entered the room, flashing the photos before Lucifer and the others, the king melted at the sight. "Awww, lookit 'im! He was such a cutie!!" Was it embarrassment that had made his husband scurry away? Was he that unhappy with the photos being shown to all that had made him so...uneasy?

When the questioning of a child was posed, he only wished he could join Alastor in fleeing the questioning. Keeping a smile, albeit a rather nervous one, he chuckled weakly, tugging at the collar of his coat.

"Oh, well...You see, I don't really, uh..."

Surrounding the king and his sweet mother-in-law were the hotel's residents, making Lucifer even more nervous. His grip upon his cane tightened as he attempted to avoid eye contact, but it was hard not to meet the gaze of even one person.

"Yeah, Short King. When're we gonna see a little gremlin from you's and Smiles, eh?" Angel's smile is wide, rivaling Alastor's notorious grin. Even Charlie seemed interested in the thought, hands clasped together and a shine in her eyes. "I'd love a sibling one day, dad!"

"I...I don't think it's a possibility for us. I know magic, sure! But...not that kind of magic."

As much as he wished he and Alastor could have a child of their own, it was simply not in his own power, despite being an angel. Creating life remained in the hands of his father and couples bearing the ability to reproduce.

He failed to see it, but his own features had become just a little sad, but he quickly restored his smile, quickly taking notice of the curious mass of eyes on him.

"Sorry to disappoint, everyone. It's just not something I'm able to do."

Besides, hadn't he already failed as a parent once?

[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.)

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 271

“Grandmother is visiting,” Damian suddenly said with no warning and with his usual not-quite demanding tone. 

“Who?” Tim wasn’t the only one to startle, seeing as Bruce had practically froze, a downturn to his lips in a silent show of confusion. 

Damian scowled. “Are you deaf Drake? Grandmother is coming to Gotham to, quote, make sure I am being properly cared for.” None of them had known that Ras was with anyone actually. At least Tim was pretty sure that would have been in the files. 

“Oh?” Dick didn’t quite crouch to Damian’s height but it was a near thing. “She-” “He,” Damian corrected, interrupting him. They all exchanged a glance before Dick continued. 

“Is he coming to the Manor or…” 

Damian scoffed again, a tiny bit of a flush against his face. “No, Grandmother will most likely be staying with Akhi-”

Now wait one moment-

“YOU HAVE ANOTHER BROTHER?!” 

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 10 - "It's alright, I'm here now."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: Slight mention / implications of experimentation

A/N: I might have gotten a bit carried away with this... I also might take a little inspirational break tomorrow.

Damian should have known better, he knew his mother and he knew his grandfather. He should have known, especially after having met Respawn. Could his mothers behavior maybe clued him in sooner? But nothing had seemed any different lately, maybe that was what should have tipped him off. Yet if it hadn't been for Drake's paranoia, after another incident with his grandfather, Damian knew he probably wouldn't have found out anytime soon, either.

He ran through the halls of the League of Assassins facilities, knowing this place probably better than his siblings that were keeping his grandfather's men busy. He could hear them over the coms, he could also hear his father confronting his mother. They were in a different location to cover more ground. Richard and Todd were with him in this location while Drake and Cain had gone with their father. Brown and Thomas were back in Gotham awaiting hopefully good news.

Damian rounded a corner, dodging another of his grandfather's men. He did not wait or turn to pin the man down. Trusting his siblings to take care of this, and a second later, gunshots echoed behind him.

There were various options of where the child, his newly created younger brother, could be. But considering how his grandfather had changed, Damian took another turn leading to the underground area. As much as there was a likelihood that the child was created to replace him, he was sure that grandfather was raising the boy differently also, as he was now considered a failure since he had left.

When he reached the underground area he slowed down, blade drawn and surveying the area. It was surprisingly empty, something Damian did not trust. Carefully he walked along the hall until the distant sound of sniveling made him pause.

"I think I found him." Damian relayed through the coms.

"Gotcha we will catch up with you brat." Todd answered and Richard agreed a second later, spouting some 'mushy' nonsense in addition.

"We will finish up here then and prepare for the pick up!" Drake on the other hand informed, despite the fact that Damian could still hear their fathers end of what appeared to be a heavy argument with his mother through the coms.

Carefully he made his way over to a heavy looking metal door. Locked. Damian clicked his tongue. It took a bit of lockpicking but soon enough he heard the soft click of the lock and he slowly pushed the door open.

"Of course grandfather would have an underground lab." He eyed the room and the equipment stored in it. Different machines with different functions were lined all along the walls. He could see villes, tubes, containers and pinchers of Lazarus Water. But what really caught his eye was the huge tank in the back of the room. The tank was nearly empty except for a four inch high puddle of Lazarus Water and a barely clothed, blue eyed child sitting in it.

The child was indeed the source of the sniffling Damian had heard early as he now saw the boy looking at him wide eyed and rubbing at his eyes furiously like he did not want to be seen crying.

"W-who are you?" The child asked, voice cracking from obvious disuse. How bad were they treating this boy? "You look weird."

Damian knew his eyes were softening just a tiny bit at the child's question. They hadn't trained out the child's natural honesty yet. There was still a chance for this boy to grow up with more normalcy than he ever did.

"You can call me Robin." He answered the child as he stepped closer, noting how tiny the boy appeared to be, unintentionally clicking his tongue. Something must have been wrong with the documents Drake found. The papers spoke of a boy at the age of six. But this boy was tiny, clearly younger than that. Or perhaps they hadn't had the chance for the forced aging process?

"Are you a fruitloop?" The boy inched to the back of the tank away from Damian and he barely refrained from clicking his tongue at that motion.

"I am human, not a type of cereal." Damian shot back at the kid inspecting the tank and how to best open it to get the child out.

"Well duh. But you could still be a fruitloop." Richard would have a great time talking to this child, Damian briefly thought as he knocked against the glass of the tank, trying to judge from what kind of glass it was made and if a Batarang was enough to break it.

The child watched him, there were still some tears in the corner of the boy's eyes but there was also curiosity. "You really are getting me out of here?"

Damian absentmindedly nodded as he reached back with the batarang in hand. "Keep were you are, I am going to bre-"

"No, it's fine!" The child suddenly hopped up, splashing the puddle of Lazarus water against the glass as he clumsily stumbled forward, pressing his hands against the glass from the inside. Damian stopped mid movement, watching how the child's tongue stuck out in concentration as the boy continued to press his body against the glass.

For a moment, Damian was wondering what the child was doing until the boy's hand suddenly went through the glass, falling forward. Damian hurried to catch the boy as he literally fell through the glass.

"What did you do?" He asked once he had the boy, his new baby brother, securely in his arms. The boy giggled, swinging his legs a little in the air.

"I got powers!" It didn't make sense to Damian, neither his mother nor father had a meta gene but there was the possibility of his grandfather mixing in other DNA or possibly, he looked around the lab, no he didn't want to imagine this.

"I see." Was his only answer to the boy for now, he turned to his com. He balanced the boy in his arm while placing a couple of devices in the room in preparation. "The child is safely retrieved. Prepare for pick up."

The boy's eyes widened as Damian made his way out of the underground part. Richard and Todd were waiting at the entrance of the stairs for him. The weight of the boy in his arms and the feeling of his small hands clinging to his uniform, it slowly caused the realization that Damian indeed had a blood related little brother now. Not a clone, but a little brother. Sure he had been created through an artificial womb but the boy was not a clone.

"ETA 5 Sending the pick up location." Drake spoke over the coms.

He was close to the stairs when he noticed the boy pressing his face into his shoulder, shaking slightly. It caused Damian to slow down and inspect the child. Did he overlook an injury?

"You… are you really taking me out of here? It's not a trick from the fruitloop to make me trust him? You are taking me away?"

The words made Damian stop right by the foot of the stairs. Richard and Tood were right at the top, waiting for him. He could go up and let Richard carry the child and do the comforting. His brother was better at this than he was. But for some reason, Damian didn't want to do that. He sent one look up the stairs before putting his focus on the child.

"Do not worry." Carefully, while still holding the boy securely Damian made the boy look at him, wiping the beginning of tears away from watery blue eyes. Whatever his grandfather had done to this child, Damian as well as the rest of his family will not let it happen any longer, especially now that they know of his existence. "It's alright, I am here now."

Saying this sounded very 'cheesy', as his oldest brother would put it, in his ears but the small hopeful shine in the boy's eyes was worth it. "As long as I am here, grandfather will no longer lay a hand on you, nor put you through anything you do not want. I am sure father and the rest of our family will agree."

And didn't Damian know it? Because despite all the conflict and contempt that sometimes existed among them, it was still a fact that his family was protective, it was not a if but a certainty that if anyone harmed his baby brother then he was surely not the only one burning down a building or two.

It rang especially true that once they got picked up, instead of letting one of his siblings hold their new brother he tossed them a controller with a certain gleam in his eyes and watched them fight over who got to trigger the explosive he had placed underground before they were out of reach. All while their baby brother was snuggling into his arms and purring like a cat. Damian smirked at his older siblings, it appeared that his baby brother already had a favorite. Not like his siblings would have been a competition in the first place.

[noona96n]

i respect people's decision to have Feyd bending Paul over and going ham on him or have Paul ride Feyd into oblivion.

but...

may i present to u...

Paul Atreides, Maud'dib, the Lisan Al Gaib, the Kwisatz Haderach, but, most importantly, Feyd's bride-to-be in another life, bending over the bald, feral, sadist twink with a humiliation kink visible from space and having him right. there. on the fckn floor and there's nothing Feyd can do but take. it.

and he just... takes it like the feral good boy that he is.

[moonlightcycle571]

Head cannon that I really like:

Billy and Talia would get along great. Why? They both love Tigers. Also, orphan called Batson that kind of looks like he could be a bat, but has the personality of a golden retriever.

DC, PLEASE. MAKE A TAWNY APPRECIATION COMIC WITH BILLY AND TALIA. im not delulu ist

[a1sart]

tmnt 2003 is genuinely fucked for episode 5 Nano I am not fucking okay after that. They just killed that robot three year old and they feel no remorse what the fuck.

[revindicatedbyhistory]

scar from fma is kinda a crazy example of the "crazy extremist" trope because literally nothing he does at the start of the narrative is wrong

[cerealmonster15]

haikaveh... save me haikaveh...

i KNOW it's been talked about to death but. the haikaveh research project. it literally haunts my mind. i cannot get over the implications. alhaitham going through his school life as someone that most people dont even really know about because he keeps to himself and doesn't socialize, with kaveh being the one exception to that, finding his way into his life as his Best Friend, and then leading to alhaithams one and only time he participated in a research topic. his bio says he only ever did ONE joint project!!! one!!! the one with kaveh his best friend and i think also his only friend at the time!!!! and then it ended in not only the project falling apart but also alhaithams only friendship. kavehs best friendship. they were each others closest person. they had no family around - alhaithams parents having died when he was young and his grandmother dying before he joined the akademiya, and kaveh's dad dying when he was young and his mom having moved to fontaine. like even if you dont look at it through a romantic lens it's still undeniable how important they were [and are] to each other..........

i'm getting off track but my point is very specifically for alhaitham, the one time he got close to someone, made a friend, even agreed to join one(1) group project ever, it ended in disaster. it led him into a fight so bad that his one and only friend said he regretted that friendship!!!! it was so bad alhaitham left the project and he and kaveh didnt speak for ages until they just happened to run into each other again at the tavern!!!!! like obviously it has to be incredibly awful for both of them but i just think how this probably had alhaitham in the cynical mindset that friendships and collaborations like that might just never work out for him because the one time he let someone into his life, it blew up on him and he was all alone again. even though alhaitham never seems to care much if people dont like him, that clearly cant still apply to someone he was exceptionally close to. like if he didnt care he woudlnt have been the one to take his name off the project and mutually not speak to kaveh...... kavehs words are the ones that hit the most significantly to alhaitham.......... kaveh is said/implied to have had at least some other friends while at school / people knew who he was, but not so much alhaitham. people didnt know him and the ones that did just knew he didnt socialize/he was not easy to get along with. he only had kaveh and then, for a while, he lost him too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[msfcatlover]

IWCTW!Damian having to relearn how to suppress his stims, because his grandfather doesn’t like it, after nearly 20yrs of learning how to feel comfortable with expressing himself. 

(Clark catching Damian stimming, only for Damian to immediately try to bluff his way out of it, because it’s been months back with the League and Damian’s relearned that stimming is dangerous. Clark starts showing up with potential stim-toys, being super-casual and even framing some of them as requests. Like, “I’ve been thinking about giving something like this to my son, can you test it and make sure it both works and is safe please? Oh no, you can keep that one. I’ll get Jon another.”)

[infestedguest]

tfw you’re a couple chapters into an fma found family fic and it’s becoming increasingly clear that the author sees Al as an accessory for Ed and not as an actual character

[mr-independent]

I'm very disappointed by the lack of fake marriage fics in this fandom. Ted is an immigrant. Visas expire eventually, and can be tricky, legally speaking. Obviously someone's gotta do a Proposal AU

[starry-bi-sky]

wolfpack. aka: if not friend, then why friend-shaped?

"Hey-- uh, Danny?" There's an almost imperceptible tremor in Tucker's voice.

Danny doesn't look up from what he's doing, his pencil scritching across his notebook as he tries to do another quadratic formula question. "Hm."

"What's -- uh -- what's with the dogs?"

He looks up now, and finally sees where Tucker is -- standing in the doorway of his room with an ashy look on his face and a skewed, nervous smile. He's got a white knuckle grip on the doorknob. Sam is wide-eyed behind him, and using him as a partial meat-shield.

Danny looks down to the two giant ghost wolves sprawled next to him lazily. One large green one with his head in Danny's lap, letting him use him as a prop-up for his notebook. Another equally large black one splayed against his hip, sleeping on her side with her head tilted inward to his calf.

Automatically, a grin tilts across Danny's face, and he lifts his notebook up to scratch behind the green one's ears. He opens a lazy eye, one that is bloody red with a ring of yellow around the pupil, before slipping it shut and leaning his head into Danny's touch. "This is Sirius and Procyon," he says, and reaches down to scratch Sirius' belly. "And they're not dogs, they're wolves."

"Great," Tucker says, his voice suddenly much smaller and faint, "Love that distinction."

Sirius makes a great big groan, and Danny's grin widens, his heart swelling with fondness. His hand slips away from her belly, and before he can put his notebook back down, Procyon pushes his head up his lap until his ear is against his stomach, demanding pets now too.

Sam peeks her head up from over Tucker's shoulder, "I think what Tucker's asking here is what are they doing here, Danny."

He shrugs, scratching under Procyon's chin. "They kinda just showed up. I tried sending them back to the Zone, but they keep returning." And they were weirdly intent on just following him around, which is the only reason he gave up on returning them. They weren't causing trouble, and they knew how to hide around the living. Plus, he just loves dogs. "So now I have two wolves living with me."

This, oddly enough, did not do anything to calm Sam and Tucker down. Tucker's mouth purses into a thin line, and he presses the sides of his palms to his lips in prayer. "How have your parents not found out about this?"

Danny wordlessly raises his hand, and his sleeve slides down to reveal a thin chain bracelet hooked around his wrist. He whistles sharply, and both Procyon and Sirius jerk their heads up to look at him, ears pricked up and eyes alert.

Silently, he points to his wrist and rattles it twice, and in unison both wolves stand up and pounce. Instantly, they turn into a respective, opaque black and green mist that swirls around the bracelet and forms into two, flat wolf charms.

Both wolves are posing in the stereotypical wolf howl, with little stars indented on the sides. Procyon's charm has the Canis Minor constellation engraved on it, while Sirius has the Canis Major.

Danny faces Sam and Tucker, and points at his wrist. "Like this."

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 36

We’ve gotten a lot of Danny as Talia’s son prompts and AUs, but hear me out: Danny as Dusan’s son. 

 For those who don’t know, Dusan is Ras al Ghul’s son, practically his second in command, who would have been his heir if not for being albino, which caused Ras to consistently reject him. So how is he his second in command?

 Well after giving up on getting his father’s respect, he left and secretly returned as the White Ghost, working his way up the ranks. 

 Now I don’t know about you, but that gives a lot of opportunities for how Danny could be his. Maybe he met Maddie during his travels and got curious about other fighting styles, maybe it was a one night stand while Maddie and Jack were taking a break, maybe they had an open relationship. Heck, maybe he’s not even biologically Dusan’s but got adopted after he saw (to him at least) a child getting repeatedly shot at and rejected by his parents for being born the way he was, at least from what he observes. Maybe he just trains this white-haired death-touched child and later encounters each other again after a reveal gone wrong. Honestly there’s so many options. 

[whenits--notreal]

What if... Tim visited Jason's grave everyday after his death, then one day he finds his grave upturned. He first thinks that someone was grave robbing (ha) before realising that the grave was dug from the inside.

Tim finds Jason first but he still ends up in the Pit with the League because nothing else could have healed him. This time, however, Jason has Tim with him.

[This sort of turned into a story so I'm moving it to my side blog]

[tetsuskei]

the best thing abt any of my selfships is gradually opening up to them since i’m reserved and sharing things w them that other people don’t know. it feels them with a sense of pride since they know i trust them.