#((she doesn't know this ofc))

[starry-bi-sky]

this just in: danny fenton is just as much of a mask as Brucie Wayne? - another danyal al ghul au

Turns out, being placed in a civilian family who have no knowledge of your background is actually detrimental to the health and development of a child assassin due to lack of proper support! Surrounded by strangers in a foreign city, Danyal Al Ghul does as assassins do best. He hides. Espionage is one of many teachings one learns in the League, and it only takes half a day for Danyal to construct a new persona to hide behind: Daniel Fenton.

By the time dinner rolls around, Danyal al Ghul is safely and securely tucked behind the face of Danny Fenton; brand new adoptive child of the Fenton family who came from overseas. A shy, quiet little boy with a thick accent and curly hair, with brown skin and blue eyes, and an avid interest in the stars. The best fictions are always cobbled together in a little bit of truth, it's some of the only truth he ever lets through. He apologizes in a meek voice for his behavior early, he didn't mean to be rude, and he watches the three of them eat it up with coos.

Lies roll like silk against his lips, he struggles to meet their eyes and offers them his weakest, shyest smile. It's too easy. It's easy to go from there.

Danny Fenton, adoptive son, shy and awkward and unconfident but friendly. Who struggles in his classes and isn't the brightest, but tries his hardest. He makes bad jokes and has a quick tongue and a sarcastic mouth. He wants to be an astronaut. He's got the best aim in school, and is a terrifying dodgeball player. He's one of the least athletic kids in his grade.

It's like playing two truths and a lie, but there's only one truth, and the rest are lies. It's easy to pretend when he knows it's insincere.

Danyal Al Ghul, grandson to the Demon Head. Deadly, trained assassin. Has spilled blood, has had blood spilt from. Environmentalist, animal activist. He loves the stars. He owns a calligraphy set. A sharp tongue, an even sharper blade. He's clever, quick-witted, he would be top of his grade if he tried harder. He purposely doesn't.

He misses his family. He misses his mother, and he misses his brother. Mother visits a few times a year, so few times that he can count it on both hands. He cherishes every visit, as brief as they are. It helps remind him who he is.

Sam and Tucker are Danny's best friends. They've never met Danyal, but Danyal's met them.

It becomes routine to become Danny Fenton. As familiar and as easy as pulling on a shirt in the morning. Danyal wakes up and is always first to the bathroom in the mornings; stares at himself in the mirror until he can finally see Danny staring back at him. At night, he locks his door and sheds the mask.

Dying throws a wrench in his mask; splits a crack straight through the porcelain. He's able to smooth it over with sandpaper and liquid gold, but it's a little hard keeping his ghost form under wraps. It instinctively wants to shift to show his true self. Danyal can't have that, he's spent four years as Danny Fenton, he'll spend another four as him as well. Even if the feeling of the hazmat suit in his ghost form feels restrictive, like a too-small shirt suctioned to his skin that needs to be peeled off.

He'll live. Er-- well, you know what he means. It's frustrating however, trying to keep his Danny Fenton mask up even as Phantom - fighting in the air is something he needs to get used to, and the sudden propping of powers throws him off. But he is nothing if not adaptive, and he hates that he needs to slow his own skills down in order to keep pretenses up in front of Sam and Tucker.

The first time Danyal summons a sword when he's alone, is one of the few times Danyal gets to grin instead of Danny. He's fighting Skulker, and from an invisible hilt he draws a katana from thin air. It startles them both. Skulker takes a step back at the smile that spreads across his face.

They're both silent as Danyal examines his new sword.

"Do you know what people like me do to people like you, poacher?" Danyal finally asks him, the accent he began to hide a few months in slipping through. He drops all pretense, dragging the flat end of the blade slow and appreciatively against his palm. It's a good make, and when he cuts it through the air, it slices through like butter. He looks up at Skulker with a smile; "are you ready to find out?"

When Sam and Tucker ask about why Skulker seems so skittish around Danny now, Danny shrugs at them and says with a playful smile; "I don't know, I guess I kicked his butt too hard after our last fight." and he watches as Sam rolls her eyes exasperatedly, and Tucker snickers with his own joke.

By the time he reunites with Damian before their 15th birthday, Danyal is buried beneath so many layers of Danny Fenton that his brother will need a shovel to dig him out. He's not sure what he'll find.

[the-last-butter]

HC they first met a year or two after Yelan got her vision; post fighting the in abyss but when Kaeya was still navigating his identity from Kaeya, Brother and Right hand of Diluc Ragnvindr to Kaeya Alberich, Cavalry Captain and Quarter master of the Knights of Favonius.

[deeva-arud]

So, about that one AU that's been marinating in my mind for years

[screwpinecaprice]

He has short legs. 😫

I headcanon that the reason his torso is long (not to make up for his stubby legs lol,) is because his stomach area had to make extra room, because his insides got pushed off by his gem.

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

the loneliness and sadness that creeps into you in a way that only growing up queer can cause. your parents can accept you and still make you feel like an outsider. your parents can love you and still reject parts of you. that old-fashioned kind of love where they think trying to mold you, make you tough, is better for you. or that quiet status quo where you just don't talk. and where everyone is accepted, though some are more than others. generations and generations it's just been easier to let it slide. to let it be. not cause a fuss. but then we sit there with a knot in our chests all our lives wondering how it got there

[vakarianshepard]

sole survivor!shepard and ashley’s friendship is so important to me. two people who survived an impossible situation, lost almost all their friends, and just. kept going. neither of them really had time to mourn, to process anything. shepard shipped off to N training, and ash is reassigned to the normandy and it’s just go here, on to the next mission. you survived. you’re fine. so what if you don’t feel like you deserve this? so what if your “success” cost you your friends? you’re lucky. right?

no one really gets it, and people bring it up like it’s something you should be proud of. and you can’t really blame them, how could they know? you lived, that's impressive! no one understands what it feels like to be the last person standing, surrounded by the bodies of people you failed care about.

but shepard knows. ashley knows. they don't have to talk about it much, but it's nice to have someone who understands. who you can turn to with your doubts and your questions and your grief. someone who can hear you out and say "i've been there" and mean it. someone who knows WHY you have to push yourself, why you have to be good enough— you have to be worth the lives of all the people who died to get you where you are. (how far are you going to drive yourself? are you trying to be a martyr?)

but no matter what, one of them dies. even if it’s temporary in shepard’s case. the only other person who got it. another friend, gone. whether shepard loses ashley on virmire or ashley loses shepard on the normandy, one of them is left behind. ash outlives two of her closest friends only a few months after losing her entire squad.

it makes me think about foundation, where after ash talks to rasa/brooks, she remembers one of her squad telling her "luck is for the lonely." i really think that would be on her mind again after both virmire and the destruction of the normandy. sure, she keeps getting "lucky" but always being the last one standing is pretty damn lonely too.

[spicypussywave]

glad to know Namtan is for the girls too. [source]

[dootznbootz]

How I'll be boogying to the Wisdom Saga if Penelope is not in it:

[caitlynmeow]

Cassandra has middle child privileges for sure!

Bela is the eldest so she has her responsibilities.

Daniela being the youngest is often tasked to do things because she’s the baby and everyone (Bela) gets to order her around

Cass doesn’t get bossed around (she’d fight Bela if she did) and has few responsibilities because she’s not the eldest.

[spotaus]

The Maskmaker (New Age AU Drabble)

Hiiiii. So, this isn't very long and doesn't do Nightmare or N enough justice, but I wrote this a while ago and my lovely pals looked at me w/ big ol' eyes on my post about posting it, sooooo!!! Here it is!!

This is shortly after Night's coronation and follows Ancha's drabble regarding Ccino + his remaining by Night's side!

   These halls. They were cold. Colder than the rest of the castle.

   Nightmare only knew, thanks to the gentle puff of steam left by his shallow breaths as he stepped down the corridor. The dark, long, corridor.

   He couldn't feel it. No. His sense of warmth and cold had faded almost instantly after eating the apple. The nervous chill in his core had been replaced with a luke-warm air. Like a puddle left after a summer rain. The chill couldn't reach him.

   Still, he wore his cloak. One which Ccino had tailored not a week ago because he feared Nightmare would feel bare without it. His old one used to keep him warm. Ccino was right, of course. Purposeless or not, the new heavy fabric kept him centered. Covered the restless twitching of his tendrils as he spoke with the few he could bring himself to communicate with since the incident.

  

   Now, it's bottom hem was suspended away from the old floors, just barely, by his extra limbs.

   His steps were silent, he wasn't sure when that had begun, but he imagined in this darkness no one would know he was there at all until the Cyan of his eyelight was turned upon them.

   He approached the door. Finally reaching the ornate, carved surface he'd visited only once before. When he and Dream were young. Nim had ordered them to come alone and let the mask-maker measure them. So they'd know when time came for them to commission their own masks. They didn't have to come down, the mask-maker already knew their measurements. They always did.

   His knuckles hovered away from the door. With its carving of that tree, swirling and dancing in the low light his eyelight provided. This space held more lingering emotions than he'd expected. His hand trembled a bit.

   No. He couldn't chicken out. He couldn't go crying, this was important to him. It was his right. It was... the least he could do.

   His fist connected with the door, twice, steadily. The loud sound echoed into the space behind him, and he stood. Prepared to face heckling and anger abd fear, for he wasn't sure the mask maker even knew of his rise to the throne. He hadn't been there, after all. At the ceremony.

   The door swung inward, and... Nightmare found hinself staring down at a monster.

   This monster... was not the one whom he remembered.

   Before, when he was young, he recalled a large, imposing monster. Heavy clay hands that held the pristine masks so carefully. Kind eyes which skimmed sorrowful past him, and handed him that lovingly carved owl mask. The one made simply out of dark wood.

   Now, the monster stood before him, leaning in the doorframe, was not that monster. This one was slightly shorter than him, stocky in the shoulders, and bundled in layers of cloaks and gloves. Their face hid behind the mask of some sort of rabbit, bright, burning lights behind the eye-holes were a soft lavender and blue. Only a lashing tail gave away their species. A skeleton varient.

   "Mask-maker." He greeted, composure renewed.

   The monster blinked, before they widened the door a bit more. A wave of amusement and excitement washed over Nightmare, and he thought he might be sick from just how potent it was.

   "Ah, my King!" They exclaimed, and Nightmare could almost hear the smile in their tone. "I wasn't expecting you so soon after your whole coronation, come in!"

   They darted away from the door, allowing Nightmare to see past them. The room beyond was as he remembered. The large sets of work-benches, suspended candles, piles upon piles of wood. Masks lined every inch of the walls, though now he could see newer ones piling up along shelves and along the stations.

   The monster seemed to round to a large chair, much too oversized for them, and plop down into it. Nightmare drifted inside, closing the door behind him carefully.

   "You royals only come down to see me for masks, that is my job though," They mused. "Or, well, that's what my mentor always said."

   Nightmare drew closer to the opposite side of the table which now separated them. He could see the messy, amalgamated surface of a partially-completed work laying between them. The wood mangled and frayed not unlike torn flesh.

   "I must ask," He knew he had other business and little time, but, "Who are you, mask maker? My mother never mentioned a change in position."

   It would be just his luck that a fraud would be hidden here in the depths. Though, the emotions were simply so delighted. They swirled about, as though every flick of their tail sent another ripple through the air.

   A giggle erupted from behind their mask.

   "Oh, I think I like you already, my king!" They said happily, "Mask-makers have never been asked such a thing by the royals! We have always been known to retire and pass on the mantel without care from you folks."

   They divulged the information so easily, but Nightmare didn't recieve the answer he had asked for. It took a few more breaths before they spoke again.

   "My name is N, my King. Call me as you see fit, I change as easily as replacing my mask." They finally admitted. "King Nim visited me once, two years ago, only to inform me her prince may quickly approach after his coronation. Though, I'm sure you're not the one she meant?"

   Nightmare withheld the hiss which desperately wanted to bubble up in his throat. His tendrils whipped about in frustration. Guilt. Of course they were expecting Dream. He'd figured as much.

   "No matter. I am here to serve my king, and that king is you, my good sir." They dipped their head a bit, "So, what is it you'd like me to carve? A noble wolf? A regal ibis? Something fitting a consort or-"

   "None of that." Nightmare cut them off, his good socket narrowing in disgust. The thought made his stomach churn.

   He thought he'd have to wait for her to speak up again, but found they had quieted and were seemingly awaiting information.

   "My... head of house. Recently promoted as of my ascension." He said, slower. He wouldn't get worked up again, "He deserves only the best, and I know you understand this well."

   N seemed to smile beneath the mask again, their eyelights hidden in thin crescent slits.

   "Describe away, my king!" They exclaimed, reaching out for a scrap of paper.

   Nightmare remembered how he'd been taught. To describe the mask with intention. Feelings and thoughts tucked away into each and every word. Those were supposed to be insightful for the mask-maker. To guide their hand as they carved.

   "This mask. I would like it to be the Visage of a cat. Well-kept, clean, orderly." He spoke, gently, drawing his eye away from the table and to the plain floor were nothing would influence his thought. "A kind face, soft. Trustworthy and bold. Clever. Warm."

   Nightmare wasn't sure what came over him. Descriptions and feelings tumbled from his jaws for what felt like ages. By the time he finished, his throat was raw with emotion. His hands clutched the inside of his cloak like a life-line.

   It was the tapping of N's charcoal stick to her desk which alerted Nightmare. Made his eyelight snap back up to her position.

   Though, she'd already put her sketch down and was up and across the room. Tugging at her piles and piles of enchanted and imported woods. For being a stationary monster, they had strength to move the wood with ease.

   "You've given me the perfect working material, my King! This mask should be done in four-days time." They assured him, not turning around.

   Their emotions read as elation now. A pure, unadulterated joy at the... the way Nightmare had described his mask? He could only imagine his magic intent had something to do with it. Ccino would, hopefully, understand.

   Oh!

   "The mask. You are aware who it is for?" He questioned.

   N hummed, before popping away from the stack of wood with a nice chunk of white-ish wood. It reminded Nightmare of cooked fish flesh, a pristine off-white with an intricate pattern.

  

   "I can only imagine it's that guy? Ccino? Good for him with the promotion, by the way. I'm sure he had his fair share of struggles to get there." N replied.

   Nightmare gave a minute nod. He hated that he had a heavy suspicion as to why N already knew Ccino by name. Nefarious plans set by his mother yet again. Bastard woman.

   He debated staying longer. Watching N strip the bark away or making smalltalk.

   In the end, it was better to leave. His hands were still shaking and his gut felt like it'd spill if he felt one more overwhelming emotion from the craftsman he was standing with. So, he bid them a farewell, promised to return in four days time, and exited from that heavy wooden door.

   The trip would be worth it so long as N delivered. And she would.

[sincapjelly]

I wonder how it felt when Lilly gave birth to Cole and lost her powers right away. She was pretty young, and she probably had a different vision for herself as an elemental master, meaning she never got to have fun with her powers as much as she would like. She probably couldn't get enough of them.

I wonder if Lou was worried about her when she lost her powers. He has no idea how it must feel like, but he can guess some part of her feels empty now. He'd be so worried if with PPD she would be angry at Cole for taking her powers or feel hurt, because you know, even though in her right mind she was happy that he was her inheritor, you never know.

He finds her sighing sadly when she is taking care of their garden a few times, no longer feeling like a part of the earth below her. It no longer feels like they are one, and it's a very odd feeling, she can't say she likes it. And it took some time to finally get used to it too.

One night Lou wakes up, and she is not beside him. He wonders where she is, and finds her talking to baby Cole. She yaps to him, asks him about how she wonders it feels to him. How she heard that when elemental masters are too little to wield such magic, "the magic is around them and not in them", or something like that, whatever that means. So he probably isn't even aware of the connection between him and his element.

Lou listens to them. How she talks to the baby in a quiet, soft voice, how Cole sometimes makes happy, funny little sounds, how Lilly giggles between her words when he does that. Best of all, Lilly doesn't sound as sad. She sounds happy when she talks to the baby about their element. How she explains to him that she is sad about losing them, but it's okay because she chosed to give up on them. She will be okay, it's just gonna take a little longer to get rid of old mannerism.

[cxtxphile]

her name is ebony darkness dementia raven way but we call her ligeia

sandworm oc sorta?? theres a second half to this drawing but this looked too cunt to not post it on its own

[welcometogrouchland]

Noticing that TV and film will often have a character either have had an abortion in the past that isn't showcased on screen (and just used as part of the character's ~fucked up and twisted backstory~) OR contemplate getting an abortion in the present day but not to through with it. Just once I want to see someone delete that fetus within the events of the plot and not be like. Extremely majorly punished for it and/or be in the wrong

[invinciblerodent]

Replaying from the beginning, I don't think I'll ever get over the fact that Astarion actually expected us to not immediately clock that he's a vampire. And I know this has been said before, but it's so hilarious.

He's over there, thinking himself suave and secretive, with such decor as...

A clearly bloody glass cup sitting right in front of his tent, in a puddle of blood, as the very first thing you see

another bloody goblet at his feet, with stains that do not look anything like wine on his white carpet

jars of blood inside his open tent, complete with a very clear bloodstain on the pallet under his bedroll

this clearly labeled bloodbank jar, covered in bloodstains, just on the table right next to him

this veritable dinner table napkin covered in blood, and of course, the pièce de résistance,

the fucking mirror in clear view, angled perfectly so that if he wasn't a vampire, you should be able to see his ass in it in premier plan when approaching from the campfire.

Not only is he very clearly a vampire, but he's also an excessively messy eater, which honestly makes the fact that he is only revealed on the third night a downright humiliating admonishment of the party's collective intelligence.

(Though, armed with the knowledge that he cannot seem to keep blood in his mouth, there is also some real potential here for the first act of physical tenderness he experiences in centuries to be the player character just... absently wiping a drop of their blood off his chin with their hand after a feeding.)

[herefortheships]

One great thing that can come out of Beetlejuice 3 ending with Lydia and Betelgeuse married, is that they can continue the story as a show if they want to, later on. An animated show, is what I mean, about Betelgeuse, Lydia, and Astrid. I could watch an animated series about their little family getting into all kinds of Neitherworld shenanigans.

[brionysea]

if stranger things 5 comes out and they're like 'omg! the upside down has been a product of someone's dark and twisted mind this whole time! it's... WILL!' I'll immediately lose interest