#universal memory

[prlssprfctn]

Freshly adopted Jason, who is so used to taking care of his mother that the first morning in the manor, he wakes up in early hours to cook for Bruce, too.

Logically speaking, he understands that Bruce doesn't need it — he is a healthy adult, and they have Alfred — but it is six in the morning, and his mind is foggy, so he just follows his instincts. Maybe he does not even realise that mom is not here, after all.

Alfred finds him in the weakly dimmed kitchen when he finishes his walk around the Manor before starting with his chores. He is amused at first, stopping quietly behind the child. He is doing great (that's a surprise since Dick intentionally just stirred more trouble), and Alfred can't help but smile a little.

'Good morning, master Jason. If you are hungry, you should wake me up the next time. I promise to take care of you.'

Jason blinks owlishly, still awfully sleepy. His eyes are barely opened, his hands working on the automat.

'Breakfast,' he mumbles, frowning a little. 'For mom- I mean, for dad.'

Alfred's smile falters. His original impression shifts in a late realisation.

Oh.

'Master Jason, you shouldn't really-'

'Finished,' he yawns, putting a one — just one, nothing for himself at all — plate in front of Alfred.

It is a very simple dish, scrambled eggs with some black paper and toasted bread — but not even made in a toaster, just on the pan; this kid probably doesn't know how to use toasters. It smells nice, Alfred compliments mentally.

'Can you-' He yawns. 'Pass to-'

And then little Jason falls asleep helplessly, falling right in Alfred's arms. He catches him, of course. This boy weighs nothing at all.

'Hey, Al,' Bruce sticks his head in the kitchen, no less sleepy. 'What is going on?'

Alfred explains to Bruce what happened, and he is no less distraught. He helps him to put Jason in the bed and eats all the breakfast he prepared, with a mixture of delight and despair.

And when Jason wakes up, embarrassed by the faint memories of the early morning, Alfred puts a big plate in front of him, filled with so much food that his big blue eyes light up instantly.

'Bon appetite, master Jason,' he smiles. 'Your cooking had passed my personal standards for a cook. You are a good soldier.'

Jason giggles, his mouth already stuffed with bacon.

'That I am.'

And that he always will be.

[hansoeii]

[chiangyorange]

the chain but on a scale of who says hooray yippee and wahoo

is this anything.

[theegh0st]

MUGSHOTS

[nabexis]

So like. Did anyone else notice that Jayce doesn't immediately shoot Viktor? He only powers his hammer on AFTER Viktor has opened his eyes. Below is Jayce's reaction to seeing Viktor (his Viktor, from his universe, not the future version of him) for the first time after walking into the dome. For the first time in months. That's like. A look of wonder. Almost reverence.

Assuming the Jinx/Rictus/Vander fight is cut to real-time after Jayce has gone into the dome, he's staring at Viktor for like. 5 minutes.

My interpretation here, of Jayce's expression just before Viktor finally opens his eyes to see Jayce in the room with him, he's committing Viktor to memory, before he has to kill him.

Edit: I almost missed it but like. HE IS SMILING For like 2 frames it's an outright smile. He leans in towards him, too. I cannot handle this.

[noxcheshire]

I am sick, dizzy, and can barely think but you know what would be WILD?

If the DC universe was an echo of Danny’s world. What if the continents of their planet shifted enough where Amity is now in New Jersey and had then become Gotham.

And when Danny died underneath the portal a part of his death fractured and imprinted itself into those various worlds. One of them being Gotham, where Danny’s home ironically used to be where Wayne Manor used to be.

So just imagine it, you’re coming back from patrol, grimy, sweaty, and with questionable intentions by dressing as an overgrown bat when suddenly the lights dim. It dims and brings darkness, only enough light to catch the beady marble eyes of the bats you fear.

And then electricity jumps in the middle of the room, flinging itself around like an agitated snake in wide open circles.

Everyone is backing away, some weary, some cursing, some just half way out of their own suit.

And then a child — barely as old as your youngest now, flickers to life before you, screaming and screaming, wailing in pain as the scent of burning flesh mingles into the air. You can see the boy, black hair and blue eyes that underneath the bright light that burns them is causing black to turn white, and blue to turn green.

The electricity crackles and when the boy is about the drop, limp, certainly lifeless, he vanishes as if nothing had ever been there.

But he comes back, he always comes back, in the moment of calm and in the moment of despair, echoing that painful wailing of death.

It’s so wrong.

It’s very, very wrong.

It didn’t even matter anymore why the boy showed up, only that this moment of pain continues to haunt the cave of heroes.

Continuously haunting, even as some whispered apologizes when the boy appeared. Continuously haunting, even as some provided songs of comfort when the boy appeared. Continuously haunting, even as stories of Gotham are told and promises (though uncertain and flimsy at best) are spoken to the wailing boy who always drops fast and disappears just as quickly.

Always, it was the same.

Until one day it wasn’t.

The electricity crackled like it always did. A spark, and then a calamity of light. And the boy would be there, uncurling himself into a tense position as he would wail.

But not this time.

Instead the boy curled himself in the air, calm as can be, almost as if he were sleeping. Even the electricity that they have learned to dance away from was calm, gentle, like ocean waves.

And when the electricity vanished, the boy did not, instead dropping to the floor where Dick was quick to catch him, grunting in preparation of weight only to show alarm at how thin the boy truly was.

On that face that has haunted them all for months is just a boy, sleeping, and scarred. A boy breathing very slow, slower than what they would like, but here in the physical realm with them.

Dick brushed back bangs of black hair, and slowly, ever so slowly, glazed blue eyes stared back.

[technically-human]

Once Stone recovers from almost passing out he is going to be a like Victorian with an ankle about the doctor’s shoulders, my god (Robotnik has freckles!!!)

Shoulders, eh?

ko-fi

[weedle-testaburger]

i am So dense sometimes. it just occurred to me almost 10 years later how obvious it is that garnet in the answer works amazingly well as a trans metaphor

you see my vision?

[softcenteregg]

// in every age, keep chasing after me // ❤️💛

[screwpinecaprice]

That scene from this anime where the girl (Aira) almost fell off a cliff after a hallucination is a childhood core memory for me for some reason. 😭 (Said hallucination is around 38:47.)

This isn't a crossover AU. I drew it as connverse because I just thought it would be fun.

[zeldalizzy]

After a VERY long hiatus in this series... Tiana and Time!! I wanted to do something sweet and nostalgic feeling for this one, and i had the idea to do some southerners cooking together!! I imagine that Time wanted to make a sweet surprise for Malon, and Tiana was more than happy to help out, since food is Naveen's love language too! I did a fun, 1920's style, almost flapper outfit design, since i couldn't find a specific dress of hers that i thought was fitting for the scene lol 😂

i think tiana and time would be wonderful friends! also, malon and time and tiana and naveen could go on double dates and talk about their silly spouses and also their crazy life stories!! malon and tiana would make the best food too!

on a more serious note, time and tiana do have a lot of similarities; they both value hard work and the importance of family, as well as both having traumatic transformation experiences (cough cough Majora's Mask). Time had his own Bayou Adventure a la the Jungle Cruise in Majora's Mask. both have had odd experiences with strange voodoo like magic, and both had to learn the value of finding love despite their difficult upbringings. overall, i love that you guys picked this pairing!! 🩵

oh, by the way... i headcanon that Malon has a sweet tooth because 1) it just fits her personality, and 2) i imagine that she probably snuck some sugar cubes for epona and herself when she was a little girl (based off of my own personal experience with horses when i was little 😂🤭)

[prlssprfctn]

And if Jason perceives his death anniversary completely differently from how his family do?

Jason, against the common belief, canonically doesn't talk about his death that much, and when he does, he feels like it is not something people need to dwell on — it is how they view and interpret his death, and the aftermath, that bothers him.

So, maybe on his death anniversary, Jason doesn't want to mourn. He wants to live. So he does. He visits his favourite places in the Gotham, chats with people he had missed, enjoys his day, and breathes, breathes, b r e a t h e s.

But once he steps in the Manor for a minute that day?

It is nothing but a kingdom of the grief.

Bruce is locked up in the Cave, straight in front of the memorial. Dick is not even around, and Jason takes a wild guess that he is visiting his grave in the meanwhile. Alfred maniacally cleans up in the library over and over, ignoring other duties. Even Tim, Tim, who technically has nothing to do with all of that, takes after others (almost instinctively), and acts along with a strange, dreadful atmosphere in the house.

And Jason is irritated, pissed off, but mostly hurt.

He is literally right here.

But once again, it changes absolutely nothing. It never does. Really.

[inumbrapugnabimus-maybe]

Traumatizing Sky in fun and silly new ways :D

Ok I know shrikes probably don’t exist in hyrule but NEVERTHELESS

if there is a shockingly violent predatory songbird on our planet I can’t NOT draw Sky meeting it

Also here is the lineart which I like better idk why

[wildflowersandvibranium]

Muscle Memory : Chapter One

Pairing: CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS Restaurant Owner Bucky Barnes x Cardiac Surgeon Female Reader Alternate Universe

Series Summary: In a town that never forgets , she thought she could hide the bruises behind a perfect smile and life. But someone from her past sees too much—and remembers everything. sorry its so vague just don't want to give too much away!

Chapter Word Count: 3.1k +

Series Warning: DOMESTIC VIOLENCE!!! its a big theme in this series so protect yourself if that is triggering for you! Physical and Verbal Abuse to Reader (never from Bucky) , injury , trauma , nothing graphic. Will update accordingly as the story goes on!!!

Chapter One Warnings: mentions of abusive father & abusive fiancé to reader , protective comforting Bucky , mentions of blood , injuries and bruises , mentions of food and drinks , ft: Wanda Maximoff and OC! Tyler (readers fiancé)

If i missed anything let me know!

Author Note: my first series everrrrr im so exciteddd this is my baby and have had the idea for something like this since before i started writing! Next chapter is already written and will be posted soon! if you would like to be tagged let me know!! enjoy bbys 💖

Chapter One Chapter Two!!

SERIES MASTERLIST 🫶🏼

MAIN MASTERLIST 🌷

The city hadn't changed much since the years she had been gone. 

Not really anyway.

Sure , a few new high-rises had wedged themselves into the skyline like eager newcomers squished together in a family photo , but the old angles were still there , stoic , sharp, familiar. 

Streetlights blinked in the same rhythm she had remembered. 

The sidewalks hadn’t forgotten her footsteps.

 Every block and street corner seemed to hum with memories , as if the pavement itself still carried the echoes of teenage laughter , secret tears , and plans whispered under a sky full of stars.

The hospital loomed tall and pristine in the distance , sterile and gleaming. 

But to her , it didn’t look cold. 

It looked like triumph. 

Like reclamation.

Like she’d pulled herself from the mud and built a cathedral with her own hands. 

It stood on the same hill where she’d once sat with blooming bruises and a heart too shattered for her young age 

Where she would always look up and swear that one day , she’d make it. 

That one day , she’d wear the white coat , sign the charts , hold the scalpel , save the lives.

Now she was Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. Cardiothoracic Surgeon and head of the entire department. 

Not a visitor. Not a student. Not someone passing through.

She had come home.

And yet—

As the moving truck sputtered away down the street , leaving the scent of diesel and the echo of squeaky brakes in its wake , she stood frozen on the front step of the townhouse. 

Her townhouse. The key dug into her palm as she gripped the metal.

. Her stomach was a fist , clenched tight and turning.

“Looks good , huh babe?”  Tyler’s voice broke the moment. 

He slipped up beside her and smashed his lips into her face kissing her cheek ,  too rough , and too hard. 

His arm wrapped around her shoulders like a noose dressed up , and disguised by comfort and his false charm.

“Yeah , it looks great. ” she said meekly.

But her eyes stayed focused on the street instead of the home. 

Tracing the curves of the curbs and gutters she once knew like the back of her hand. 

She could still see the old versions of herself darting past mailboxes and garbage cans , chasing time , chasing escape.

Tyler didn’t notice the catch in her voice when she answered.

Or at least he chose not to.

Inside her jacket pocket , her hand clenched around the metal keyring as the years came crashing back. Trying to ground her spiraling mind. Being back here came like a flood.

The summers. 

The scraped palms. 

The nights hiding from her father’s drunken rages. 

She remembered the feel of bark against her skin as she climbed the backyard oak , the sting of bruises and cuts she didn’t talk about , the muffled arguments that never stayed inside her family's walls. 

Bucky Barnes had been her lifeline—mud on his knees , flashlight in hand , whispering jokes in the dark while she tried not to cry too loud.

Even as a small boy who didn't understand how your dad , who all he knew of parents was nurturing love ; could hurt a girl like you so badly.

 But he would still hold you as you wept on his shoulder wetting his little polo shirt with your tears.

She could still hear his voice telling her they’d leave someday. 

That they’d go far. He would take her away from here and from the pain. That they’d never come back unless it was on their terms. Not forced.

And they actually had.

They left the city and went to the same college in the next state over. 

She’d go on to study hearts. He’d studied business.

They had run. Two kids with a car full of borrowed time and little money they saved.

They had done what they dreamed about.

But even the best dreams crack when reality sets in.

✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿

Her ring caught the sunlight. 

It was beautiful—flawless. A large round diamond sat on a thick gold band. It was impressive and some would say remarkable. 

She would get stopped by women in grocery store lines saying how they wished they had a man like yours. Or you would get flooded with the “you are one lucky girl” 

You scoffed thinking of that. Lucky.

Tyler had proposed in Paris on a weekend trip just the two of you , he got down on one knee in front of the eiffel tower with a camera crew he’d hired for the moment. 

It was public , polished , perfect. Just like him.

What no one saw was what came after the perfection and cameras. 

No one saw the beating you endured if you looked at the pizza delivery guy a beat too long , or if a barista wrote his number on your coffee cup. 

Tyler would show you with his fists and strength how you weren't good enough or pretty enough. That you're stuck with him because he's the only one who can love someone like you.

People didn't see the way he always apologizes too fast after the beatings , always circling back saying it was your fault. 

He had brainwashed you into staying, believing his words in between slaps and punches.

The way his smile turned mean when he thought no one was watching. How his touch sometimes lingered in ways that weren’t tender or loving.

How she had learned to brace herself every time he raised a hand or tight fist near her at home.

✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿

That first night back to her hometown , after boxes were half-unpacked and furniture half-placed where it belonged, Tyler unbuttoned his shirt in the kitchen and groaned utterly exhausted

 “Let’s get dinner. I found a spot people swear by around here”

She dropped the last box she carried into the kitchen with a soft thud. 

“Yes please, I'm starving , what were you thinking?” 

“Found this restaurant and pub downtown , called Buck’s. It's really popular ‘round here.”

The name hit like a punch to the ribs.

Her breath hitched.

“Buck’s?” she repeated , too fast.

He didn’t notice.

“Yeah. Local staple or something. Said it got a new owner recently looks good online.” He smirked. “Should be fun.”

She forced a nod , but something inside her had already shifted. 

It was subtle , almost imperceptible , like the first hairline fracture in a porcelain vase that was just about to crack.

   ✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿

Buck’s looked like something out of a memory she’d tucked away too carefully.

The kind you don’t mean to keep , but never really lose. 

It hit her the second she stepped inside—warm amber lighting spilling across polished dark wood floor and ceilings , the low murmur of conversation and laughter , clinking glasses with the clack of the pool balls being pocketed  , and the faint scratch of a needle on vinyl as some old soul record spun behind the bar.

It smelled like smoked cedar , aged bourbon , and something sweet sizzling from the kitchen , probably a fresh cobbler or pastry.

It had to be Bucky’s place. 

It felt like him. 

It was honest , solid , warm at the edges and stubborn in the bones.

And there , along the back wall , were a large gallery of photos.

Black and white , sepia-toned , some a little faded with time. 

High school football teams , parades , the town's winter festivals , and a massive framed shot of their old neighborhood during a block party.

 She saw it instantly: the two houses side by side , hers painted in peeling blue and white shutters , his in sun-bleached brick with ivy vines crawling up the sides. 

That same crooked and overly worn fence. And that same tree she used to climb when the yelling got too loud.

Her fingers twitched at her sides.

Tyler was talking to the hostess , probably making a show of using his full name. Always networking , always turning charm into currency. 

She kept her eyes low as they followed the hostess to a table near the bar , but her ears strained for a sound she hadn’t heard in a decade.

And it came booming from the kitchen.

The black double doors swung open with a familiar squeak.

A voice called out something to the bartender—gruff , amused , easy.

She didn’t have to look , she knew.

But she did anyway.

And there he was.

Bucky Barnes.

Not seventeen anymore. 

Not that reckless boy with scraped red knuckles and a mop of brown curly hair.

No—this man was grounded. Worn in the way good leather is worn , weathered by life , yes , but built to last. 

He was a true man now. His beard was thick , touched with sun or maybe lightning with stress. His hair was pulled back in a small knot at the nape of his neck. His black T-shirt clung to shoulders broader than she remembered , and his sleeves were rolled high , revealing strong muscles and tanned forearms that moved with a calm purpose.

He looked like he belonged here. 

Like he'd carved this place out of his own heart and life and made something beautiful out of it.

And then , his eyes found hers.

It was like being punched in the throat and kissed in the best way , all at the same time.

A split second of stillness.

No breath. No noise.

Till his mouth moved before his mind betraying him.

“Y/N?”

It left his mouth half-disbelieving , half-hopeful , like maybe saying it would make her real.

She stood by the table as Tyler sat down , heart hammering like it was trying to break right out of her chest. 

“Hi.” she whispered.

He crossed the space between them in seconds. 

His arms went around her without hesitation , and she let him. 

She melted into him like a memory finding its shape again. 

His scent hit her like a freight train of nostalgia. Soap , whiskey , and something smoky she couldn’t name , probably whatever was on the grill currently.

“You’re really here,” he said softly against her ear , his voice hoarse.      “God, it’s been…”

“Too long , I know , I got a job at the hospital so I'm back for good.” she said, and it felt like truth was unburied.

They sat there just–smiling , taking in the other after years of yearning.

Then she remembered. Tyler.

She pulled back , the present slamming into her like a cold wind. 

“Um sorry t-this is Tyler, my fiance, and Ty this is Bucky , he owns the restaurant” she said , her tone shifting as she stepped aside her voice laced with something like shame or guilt.

Tyler stood and offered his hand , perfectly pleasant. 

“It's good to meet you , Bucky. Nice place you’ve got. Y/N used to live around here.”

Bucky’s eyes stayed on her for just a beat too long. As she was looking down at her feet.

Then he looked at Tyler and shook his hand. 

His grip was firm. Controlled. “You can call me James , and yeah. We grew up together next door.”

“Oh okay , James. So are you two like childhood friends?” Tyler said with a question.

Bucky gave a nod , slow and unreadable eyes flicking back to her. “Something like that.”

Then with a nod to Y/N he was gone , retreating to the bar like nothing had happened. 

Like the earthquake of seeing her again , here , hadn’t cracked his foundation wide open.

But when he came back with drinks , his hands were steady.

 He placed the glass in front of her , and as she reached for it with a “Thank you” , her sweater sleeve slipped back.

Just a few inches. Too much.

The bruise on her arm was yellow at the edges , fading and older, but unmistakable.

His eyes flicked down.

He saw it. But said nothing.

Maybe it was from her recent moving , a couch hitting too hard or a box being dropped he tried to convince himself.

But the smile that had been there just a moment ago didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. 

His jaw clenched. The muscle twitched once.

He turned and walked away , saying something about getting back to work.

He didn’t look back as he walked towards  the kitchen.

✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿

They finished dinner , but the food tasted like nothing. She was numb.

Tyler kept up a steady stream of chatter , about how impressed he was with the décor and vibe of the place , how his clients would love this place , and how maybe they should come here more often. 

She nodded when it seemed appropriate , murmured agreement when he looked her way for her input , but her mind wasn’t in the room or focused on the food she was now picking at. 

It was back at the bar. 

Back on Bucky’s face. Back on that fraction of a second when the bruise on her arm shifted the entire gravity of the evening.

He had seen it.

Of course he had.

She wondered if he’d known instantly , or if his brain had a moment to mistake it for something else. 

He knew what bruises like that meant. Knew what kind of silence came with them. They had both lived together in that silence once.

And now , he was watching her live in it again.

Tyler reached across the table , fingers lacing with hers.

She didn’t flinch this time but only because she had learned not to. If she flinched or recoiled from his touch in public Tyler got angry and would “give her something to flinch for” at home after words. 

When they paid the bill and Y/N gave a small wave to Bucky as they were leaving , they walked out into the cool night air. 

The sky had dipped into a deep navy , and the streetlights flickered to life in a staggered procession. She wrapped her arms around herself , more for comfort than the cold.

“Not bad,” Tyler said, stretching like a man satisfied with himself. “Good food. Friendly people. Might even beat that French place downtown I saw had better reviews.”

She forced a smile. “Yeah. I-It was nice.”

Her voice stuttered wearily; it didn't sound like hers.

And then , across the street—a familiar voice cut through the night like a firecracker.

“Y/N?! No way!”

She turned instinctively , and a blur of red hair was already coming at her.

“Wanda?” Her voice cracked under the weight of disbelief and joy.

Wanda Maximoff hit her like a hurricane of happiness , throwing her arms around her with a squeal that made a couple people on the sidewalk turn their heads. 

“Oh my God , what are you doing here? Are you back back?!”

“Yeah back for good , I just moved in,” Y/N managed, laughing through the emotion thick in her throat. “Took a position at the hospital.”

Wanda’s eyes widened. “Wait—the cardio position? That’s you? Vision said some hotshot was coming in to lead the department , but he never said it was you!”

Y/N flushed , laughing for real this time. “Hotshot’s a bit of a stretch Wans.” 

“No way, you’re a legend already.” Wanda grabbed both her hands. 

“You have to come to my wedding. We’re doing it here—Buckys letting us use the rooftop. I’ll text you the date!. You better not have plans.”

“I—uh—”

“Please. Everyone’s gonna lose their minds when they see you.”

“I’d love to , of course I'll be there,” Y/N said , surprised to realize she meant it.

Wanda beamed , already pulling out her phone. 

“Perfect. I’ll text you. And , hey! Welcome home, okay? You're really home.”

She gave one last hug and jogged back across the street to her group, disappearing into the night with a smile over her shoulder.

Y/N stood still for a second , stunned by how effortlessly the past had folded itself back around her like a worn-in sweater. The warmth of it. The weight of it. 

Her phone vibrated and she saw the invite from Wanda sent with lots of kissing emojis.

“Small town,” Tyler muttered. “Everyone knows everyone.”

There was a tone in his voice , slight, off—but she didn’t take the bait.

She just smiled quietly , pocketing her phone and hands.

As they walked down the block toward their house , her eyes flicked back—just once.

Inside the restaurant , behind the tall windows glowing golden in the dark , she saw Bucky.

Leaning against the bar still , towel over his shoulder, arms crossed tight. Watching. Not glaring. Not starring.

Just watching her.

His face was still. But his eyes—

His eyes burned.

He had seen the bruise. And he had seen the way she flinched when Tyler lifted his hand , even if it was only to brush away a stray hair on her forehead.

He had seen it. He remembered what that looked like.

He remembered it too well. And this time , he wasn’t seventeen. He wasn’t helpless. He wasn’t leaving.

This time, he had roots here. A life. A place that was his.

And now , she was finally here, too.

-end

CHAPTER TWO

thank you so much for reading! 🥹

Comments , Reblogs , Likes and Requests are always loved!

(although if you liked this fic please consider reblogging so it can reach a wider audience)

They let me know that you are enjoying what I'm publishing and gives me motivation to write more and more! :33

[pericardium-and-glass]

Tarn memory loss AU (head injury -> memory reverts to pre-empurata Damus). While I do love the idea of an innocent, naive, can-do-no-wrong Damus, what if I headcanon him as a little freak?

The DJD horrifies him, but there is something else... a note of joy... and that horrifies him much, much more.