#anyway I am normal about them

[knownoshamc]

Armand + why would you say that if you have only met this man once

[lizard-speed]

I’ve come to the realization that the Brig and the Captain are basically the exact same character…

Both military men who are strictly about business and no nonsense. Plus they’re both deeply in the closet so

[clanborn]

i’m glad my little comic was able to introduce people to the wonderful concept of squirreldaisy

[infinitesweep]

cover me in roses, cover me in pearls // knuxouge

word count 1959 - ao3 link

summary: Knuckles' island thrummed at his feet, a constant reminder of his duty, the everlasting heartbeats of his long-dead kin. The island was Galatea, and he could only hope to fill the space Polyphemus had left, be an immovable boulder, a lone unmoving stone pillar bearing his tribe's legacy. (It didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember any names or faces other than Tikal’s, muffled with static. The centuries-old claw marks on the wall fit his own, and that was all that mattered.) As sea-blue eyes lazily traced his muscular figure, leathery bat wings fluttering in the wind, Knuckles absentmindedly wondered what happened when an unstoppable object met an immovable force.  (or: why should knuckles care that rouge cares about him?) [RATED G - hurt/comfort, character study, found family, pre-relationship, hopeful ending, autistic knuckles]

my eebie deebies,,, enjoy!

-

Knuckles was tired.

Absurd. The guardian was not supposed to be tired. He was an unmoving stone pillar, standing tall and steady to protect his tribe’s legacy with fists raised and teeth bared. He did not fatigue or wear. He was an insurmountable cliff, an immobile boulder. No one could catch him off guard if his fists were always up, a veil between his eyes and theirs. 

His island thrummed at his feet, a constant reminder of his duty, the everlasting heartbeats of his long-dead kin. Any untrained gaze that scoured his home would consider it deserted, an abandoned graveyard of a mysterious civilization, useless except for some ancient hidden power. Where they saw winding cave systems, Knuckles saw homes, painstakingly dug out by hand and carved with the care a sculptor gives to his masterpiece. Where they saw a ruined sanctum, he saw a sacred temple. Where they saw power, he saw honor, a responsibility that he was proud to bear on his shoulders, another heart beating next to his. The island was Galatea, and he could only hope to live up to the space Polyphemus had left.

(It didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember any names or faces other than Tikal’s, muffled with static. The centuries-old claw marks on the wall fit his own, and that was all that mattered.)

And so he stood, through rain and sleet and snow, through chaos and trickery and war. The moments his fingers dared slip were short-lived and he tossed them to the wind. The emerald was his, and he was its, thrumming under his fingertips. It was the only family he had, after all. His eyelids would not, could not droop, lest they fail his ancestors again. 

As sea-blue eyes lazily traced his muscular figure, Knuckles absentmindedly wondered what happened when an unstoppable object met an immovable force. 

“Bat girl.” His voice was low, monotone, revealing none of the irritation beginning to heat in his chest. Of course, he knew that small victory would be short lived–Rouge knew exactly how to press his buttons. 

“Hello, beautiful,” She took a few seemingly careless steps forward, voice laced with rose petals. He knew how well the thorns were hidden. Her gaze wasn’t on him, but the emerald, shimmering in the fading light. Chaos, it was infuriating how the sun cast its rays on that muzzle, a blazing gold. “Been a while, hasn’t it?” 

“What are you doing here?” It wasn’t a question, but a statement, an order for her to get out , to go back where she belonged, to the probably stolen apartment she shared with her team, working against or with him. It didn’t matter. Knuckles worked alone, and that was just how he liked it. He didn’t need anything or anyone else besides his emerald, but Rouge, thief as she was, kept insisting upon these stupid visits. 

She ignored him, ascending toward his emerald step by step, that stupid determination in her eyes, and he growled in warning. “Answer me, Rouge.”

Silence. A raised eyebrow, a smirk. 

“I’m warning you!” Knuckles barked, stepping forward and sliding between her and her target. That’s all she thinks of it. Just some shiny, magic rock for her to steal. She knows nothing of the Master Emerald, and she has the gall to try and take it anyway?

Tch. Unworthy.

“Just thought I’d drop by,” she purred, hand sitting lazily at her hip. “Really, Knuckles. Not very gentlemanly of you. What kind of host accosts his guest?”

“I didn’t invite you to my island,” he retorted, hands curled into fists. Chaos, that makeup was just begging to be smeared by a well-placed punch. 

“I seem to recall Sonic inviting you off your island for Christmas.” Something shifted in her gaze, hardening as it clashed with his. “How long has it been since you left, anyway?”

“You’re the reason I can’t leave, Rouge!” Knuckles spat, taking a step back to be closer to his purpose. “Thieves like you. The Master Emerald is more important than me! What I want–” he paused, a strange, unfamiliar doubt pulsing like fire in his chest. He extinguished it without a second thought. “I have a duty . You don’t understand.”

“ Damn it, Knuckles!” Rouge’s voice was sharp, taking a dangerous step forward, her tone flipping on its head in an instant. “You have a duty, sure, but you’re not letting yourself have a life! No one’s seen you in months , and now you’re attacking me for–”

“ Can it ,” he snarled, raising his fists dangerously. She never knows when to give up, does she? “You’re not going to get my emerald, so leave! ”

“I don’t want your damn emerald!”

Knuckles paused, and suddenly he became aware of the bulkiness of his hands. He was clumsy. It was far too easy for his fists to break things. 

(Whatever this was? He didn’t want to shatter it. It was new, different, wrong . And yet, he wanted.

…but what other option did he have?)

“I don’t give a shit about your emerald, you hear me?” Rouge was almost screaming now, voice raw and shaky, and Knuckles was stunned into silence, anger giving way to shock. She’s never acted like this before . Her palm collided with his chest, more of a shove than a slap. “I don’t care about your island, your duty, your treasure, whatever! ” 

“Rouge–”

“I care about you , damn it!” She whipped around, but not quite fast enough for Knuckles to miss the tears brimming in her eyes. He found himself reaching toward her and stopped himself. Why do I…what is this? What is she getting at?  

“...Why did you really come here, then?” His voice was low and quiet, almost ashamed. He felt himself splitting in two. “Was it just to yell at me?”

“No, you idiot.” Knuckles was awful at understanding undertones, but he couldn’t miss the barely-veiled regret in Rouge’s voice. “No one’s heard from you for ages. I couldn’t just…” she paused, trying to steady her voice. It didn’t work. “I needed to know you were ok.” A raw laugh left her throat, and surprisingly, Knuckles could sense the exact moment she slipped back into her act. “Have to make sure my emerald’s kept safe, y’know?”

“I thought you didn’t care about the emerald.” 

“Tch.” Rouge didn’t answer, still facing away. Slowly, she knelt, gaze locked with the sunset. Her breathing was still shaky. “M’ just glad you’re alive.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Knuckles moved to sit beside her. It didn’t dawn on him that he was leaving a gap for her to dart to the emerald and claim it for herself, he had more pressing matters to worry about. “I’ve lived here my whole life, y’know. My tribe did it for generations. Nothing changed, I’ve just got a few more pesky thieves and evil overlords to worry about than my ancestors.”

“Doesn’t really seem like living to me,” Rouge muttered, hunching over and pressing her muzzle into her sleeves. 

“It’s tradition. You wouldn’t understand.” No one does. No one seems to know the importance of remembering. If I am not here, what happens to my ancestors? My family? My memories? What happens to the emerald they guarded for generations?

“Please, go ahead and try to explain to me how spending your entire life standing in that same spot in front of that same shrine for hours at a time, barely even sleeping , is living. You sound miserable.”

“Of course you would think that,” Knuckles shot back. “You spend your time lying and deceiving others just to get what you want. You’re just a greedy treasure hunter.”

…So why do I care that you care about me?

“And what’s wrong with that, huh?” Rouge watched the clouds march across the sky, a spark of defiance in her voice. “I do whatever the hell I want. I’m not letting some stupid destiny or tradition control me. And what I want to do is make the world a better place. I don’t just steal treasure, you know. There’s a reason I work for G.U.N.” 

“What does that have to do with my emerald?” Knuckles tilted his head. Damn you, Rouge. You’re always so confusing. “I don’t need anyone else. I work alone. I’m the last of the echidnas, it’s what I’m meant to do.”

“You don’t have to, though.”

“I want to.”

“ Please , Knuckles.” She turned to him for the first time in a few minutes, and her makeup was smeared. A strange warmth made itself known in his chest. “I could see the bags under your eyes from a mile away. Why don’t you just let yourself sleep, once in a while? Go visit your friends and family? This duty… it can’t be all consuming, can it?”

“Do you understand what the word ‘Guardian’ entails?” Knuckles’ voice was less sharp and more solemn. “I cannot leave my post, Rouge. I cannot fail my ancestors. The emerald is more important than what I want to do. What I need to do is keep it safe.” 

“No.” Rouge poked him, almost gently, right in the center of his chest. He flinched but didn’t look away. “You’re more important than the emerald. Your life is more important than some tradition.”

“And this is why you’ll never understand.” Knuckles looked away. There should have been no conflict in his chest, no feeling of tearing or ripping his patchwork feelings at the seams.

And yet. 

“You have no right to be mad at me for stealing jewels, then.” Rouge’s hand found his knee, barely brushing fur. He shuddered, but didn’t shove her away. “After all, if you’re willing to sacrifice your life for one measly emerald, you can’t scold me for valuing material possessions.” 

“I’m not sacrificing my life, I’m just–”

“Then leave the damn island once and a while!” Rouge cut him off. “Come visit us so we know you haven’t rotted away! I–” she stopped. “ ...we miss you, Knuckles. Just check in sometimes, ok?”

Knuckles stayed silent, letting his thoughts simmer on his tongue. I… the emerald. What if I fail?

But Rouge’s eyes. She was crying . I did that to her. 

…Why do I care?

It didn’t matter, Knuckles decided. He wouldn’t question why he cared, all he knew was that he couldn’t just stop without it cracking and fraying under his cumbersome hands. His ancestors would have wanted him to have a family, right? 

“I… suppose.” He relented, sighing in defeat. Now that she mentioned it, his eyelids were heavy. Sometimes mountains had to rest weary bones. 

Something in his mind told him he was making a mistake, that he would regret this. The genuine smile on Rouge’s face, unmasked for a mere millisecond, wiped all of his doubts away. She squeezed his hand–when had they started touching?–and looked away.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he added quickly, voice sharp. “This better not be one of your tricks, bat girl.”

(He made no move to remove his hand from hers.)

“I’m sure I’ll make it worth your while.” Rouge shifted closer, ever-teasing at whatever fragile bond they shared. “But for now? I suppose you can keep me in check. Wouldn’t want me finally claiming what’s mine, would I?”

“Of course not. What kind of guardian do you think I am?” Knuckles scoffed. Her breath was warm against his fur, and he let out a yawn, forehead resting against her shoulder. He’d forgotten how easy it was to let himself slip into unconsciousness. 

Knuckles worked alone, and he was okay with that. It was his duty, after all, and he didn’t need anyone else. But sometimes, he supposed, it was fine to let himself rely on others. Life wasn’t just about necessities, after all. 

end. (tysm for reading, reblogs are greatly appreciated!! :D)

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

finally at that age where i'm thinking i should get a tattoo. not bc i feel strongly about it, just seems like a waste not to. i've got so much skin i'm not using

[bacchuschucklefuck]

while teen while goblin while aroace while injured while doing your best

[stolen-stardust]

why do people want a cookie for not harassing random jews living their lives. “the people i racially profiled were nice to me, peace is possible ✊” is a fucking INSANE take

[theminecraftbee]

you know the excellent quadruple life fan comic has me thinking about double life again. and MAN. thinking about the soul bonds mechanically. like, before I get into my meta-analysis it’s worth noting that non-diagetically the soulbond mechanic being based on how many hearts someone has is basically the only way I can think to do it in minecraft that’s sensible, but diagetically…

so do you ever think about how the marker of what made people soulmates in double life was pain?

like, soulmates share injuries/pain! that’s the whole premise! like, to the point that day one people were making up elaborate ways to hurt themselves so they could test for their soulmates! you met your (very romantic-coded) partner and confirmed they were the person you were looking for by hitting each other, generally!

being a soulmate in the double life universe isn’t about being compatible, it’s about literally sharing pain, and it’s just… I think about how for some pairs, they share the burden between each other, and it brings them closer. for some pairs, though, the only way they know how to communicate is by hurting one another. and the thing is, this isn’t just a literal thing. like, mechanically, the thing soulmates do is share pain and communicate with pain, but metaphorically, can you say desert duo doesn’t have trouble communicating because half of how they know how to exist is either sharing in pain or causing it for each other? can you say that ranchers’ strength wasn’t a pair of people who understood each other’s pain and desperation to be better than they’ve been before? can you say that divorce quartet isn’t, well—

so pearl wins after scott hurts them one last time don’t you ever think about that,

[sneez]

pathologic but it's a lost 1920s german expressionist film [id under cut]

[id:

image 1: a digital drawing of a fake poster, using bright colours and rough, painterly brushstrokes. the title, 'pest' (german for 'plague'), is written at the top in spiky black text. in the foreground a man dressed as a tragedian is staring intently at the viewer, his hands raised and splayed as if in horror. in the background, the town is framed against a red sky, with the polyhedron in yellow behind.

images 2 and 3: fake casting sheets for the film, with the names of the actors and the characters they are playing above a black-and-white portrait photograph of them. all the text is in german. in english it reads: 'Pest', a film by Robert Wiene Alfred Abel as Victor Kain Ernst Busch as Grief Lil Dagover as Katerina Saburova Ernst Deutsch as the Bachelor Carl de Vogt as Vlad the Younger Marlene Dietrich as the Inquisitor Willy Fritsch as Mark Immortell Alexander Granach as Andrey and Peter Stamatin Bernhard Goetzke as General Block Dolly Haas as the Changeling Ludwig Hartau as the Haruspex Brigitte Helm as Anna Angel Brigitte Horney as Maria Kaina Emil Jannings as Big Vlad Gerda Maurus as Yulia Lyuricheva Lothar Menhert as Georgiy Kain Asta Nielsen as Lara Ravel Ossi Oswalda as Eva Yan Fritz Rasp as Stanislas Rubin Conrad Veidt as Alexander Saburov and Tragedian Paul Wegener as Oyun Gertrud Welcker as Aspity

image 4: four digital sketches of set designs for various locations. all are strongly influenced by expressionist imagery, using extreme angles, warped perspective, and dramatic shapes. they are labelled 'street 1' (a street lined with houses), 'street 2' (a square with a lamppost and a set of steps), 'polyhedron exterior' (the polyhedron walkway), and 'cathedral interior' (the dais at the far end of the cathedral).

image 5: four digital drawings in a black-and-white watercolour style, showing fake stills from the film. all are similarly distorted and lit by dramatic lighting. the first shows katerina's bedroom, with katerina standing in the centre of the floor. the second shows the interior of an infected house. the third shows daniil staring out of the frame in horror, one hand on his head and the other raised as if to ward something off. the fourth shows an intertitle with jagged white text reading 'the first day' against a dark background.

end id.]

[peachesarts]

[stubblesandwich]

[monster-factorie]

[mx-nada]

they r qpps to me

[3-aem]

thinking about touch starved touch sensitive gojo again. Absolutely desperate for even the most grazing touches from getou and yet overwhelmed by it all.

[aster-draws]

Cover art for Wanted: Dead and Alive chapter one, which I've started posting because I'm like soooooooo normal about Danny Phantom x DC rn anyways cheers