#can you tell I like this trope?

[sqarletsworldlesswandering]

Eclipsed Duality: the angel falls first.

G&F Duality: the darkfolk (paladin?? Idk what Infern is lol-) falls first.

Both: the Emotionally Constipated Grump falls first.

[lotus-pear]

charm stat at debonair ‼️‼️

[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."

[mamawasatesttube]

the whole "jason rules crime alley and none of the other bats are allowed there!!1!" thing is so funny like. tim LITERALLY lives in the theater where bruce's parents died,

[unpersoniverse]

Skén:nen sá:sewh

as promised, here's Precious boy™ getting kissed by Precious wife™ because he deserves all the love in the world :cc

translation: Get home safe

[wilted3sunflowers]

imma be real you cant call scarletella delusional when its his territory mc is leaving bodies/blood in.

Like thats a horrfic ghost creature.

this is a courting gesture leaving gifts like that around. hes right to think mc loves him.

the actions add up.

[tragedry]

older sibling characters that have been dealt with the shittiest of cards in life, who struggle to keep their family afloat, who have witnessed grief and tragedy at a young age that will later force them to develop a hard exterior in order to protect themselves from the cruelties of the world. older sibling characters with a chip on their shoulder. older sibling characters who are overprotective of their younger siblings because they fear the world will be even crueler to those they love.

older sibling characters with anger issues and are meanspirited because they refuse to let the narrative soften them after all the shit they went through.

[viperwhispered]

Too Hard

Woop part 2 of the trip inside Jamil's head. Part 1 here.

The next time Jamil caught sight of you on campus, his first instinct was to turn around on his heel.

What a stupid thought to have because of you.

Besides, that would only make him more conspicuous, not less.

So, when your eyes met his, Jamil gave you a short nod in greeting. He would’ve left it at that and kept on his way, had you not walked up to him.

“Hi Jamil! How’s it going?” you said with that impossibly disarming smile of yours.

Why was it so difficult to look at you like he normally would? You had no right to make him feel so stiff, so unnatural.

On autopilot, Jamil exchanged a few pleasantries with you - those lessons from his parents had been instilled too deep in him for him to falter too badly in a simple exchange such as this. Still, Jamil quickly excused himself by telling you he still had to find Kalim before his next class.

Jamil didn’t miss the way your smile faltered. Had you hoped to get something out of him?

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you two later, then.”

Something about that irked him, though Jamil did not allow himself to dwell on it further.

His heart really had no business still racing as it did when he walked away, unaware of the frown on his face.

Just act normal. That’s all he needed to do.

After all, he had no time for dwelling in silly fancies.

If Jamil had been acutely aware of you before, it only seemed to worsen now that he was making a conscious effort to not act any differently with you. In fact, the harder he tried to keep you out, the more you invaded his thoughts, unsettling him.

The most innocuous words from you looped in his mind, and even the simplest actions caught his eye. For goodness's sake, he’d found himself staring at you while you were queueing up in the cafeteria the other day, not even doing anything other than standing around and looking bored!

For once, Jamil found himself grateful for all his duties. At least they provided him with something else to occupy himself with.

After all, if he was busy enough, it was difficult to think about those bright eyes of yours, your sweet laugh, or the way you bit your lip while thinking.

Still, sometimes it felt like no matter which way he turned, you were there, ready to throw him off-kilter. Not like it was his fault that often the most convenient route to class intersected with your daily routines. Or that your face seemed to jump out from any crowd, catching his attention.

Which certainly did not help his basketball performance. Jamil certainly did not recall you having such an interest in sports before, yet suddenly you were always there, distracting him. What had changed?

Could you possibly-

Jamil scoffed to himself, forcing his thoughts back on track for the nth time that day.

He picked up the tray of food and started taking it to Kalim. After dinner, he’d need to help Kalim with his homework, there were some housewarden tasks that would need dealing with, not to mention the preparations for the next-

Jamil froze in his tracks.

The voice he heard was quiet, but it was unmistakably you.

Really, it should not have come as such a surprise to him. You had become a rather frequent visitor to Scarabia, and Kalim often invited you to stay for meals. In fact, Jamil had started planning the dorm’s meal prep with your tastes and dietary restrictions in mind, just in case.

Jamil rounded the corner with strange exhilaration, his heart fluttering needlessly.

Yet, his mood evaporated when he saw you.

Why did you stop talking and look so guilty as soon as you caught sight of Jamil?

Jamil knew that look you gave to Kalim, had used it himself a thousand times. The one telling Kalim to keep quiet about something.

What could there possibly be that you would be comfortable sharing with Kalim, but not with him? That would give Kalim reason to sit so close to you, a comforting hand on your shoulder?

Jamil's mind raced with possibilities, yet could not settle for any single explanation.

He’d have to ask Kalim about it later.

Jamil gave you a short, polite greeting, his eyes lingering on you in an attempt to read what you were hiding.

“If I’d known you were coming over, I would’ve prepared something for you to eat as well,” Jamil said, already thinking about which parts of the dorm’s dinner to spruce up for you.

“Oh, no need, just figured I’d pop by. I’ll get out of your hair soon enough,” you said, something sheepish about your expression.

As expected, Kalim asked you to stay and dine with them, and with just a bit more persuasion you agreed - though not before telling Jamil that he should join you too and have himself a breather.

And since Kalim agreed with you, Jamil soon found himself sharing a meal with you and Kalim. Yet, even as he sat down with the food, his mind raced.

Had you been getting particularly close to Kalim lately? But surely Jamil would’ve noticed such a thing. Maybe someone from the dorm had been giving you trouble? But if that was the case, then surely you could let Jamil know about it, too. Unless for some reason you did not want to? But if it was something that concerned Kalim, then sooner or later it was bound to concern Jamil, too.

All the while, Kalim was talking to you about this and that, the latest topic being the animals kept on the Asim estate.

“I’ve got some pictures, let me show you!” Kalim said with an excited grin.

Only, a thorough patting of his pockets and a look around confirmed that Kalim’s phone was nowhere to be seen.

Jamil pinched the bridge of his nose. Where had Kalim left it this time?

Before Jamil even had the chance to say that he would handle it, Kalim sprinted off. Jamil hesitated for a moment, automatically halfway up from his seat, before he decided that leaving a guest unattended would be a worse offense than not helping out his master.

Jamil slumped back down with a sigh, mentally tracing the path Kalim took today, trying to recall the last time he saw Kalim handle his phone.

“Breathe. He’ll manage,” you said. There was the faintest of smiles on your lips, and Jamil could not decide if it was knowing or amused. Perhaps both.

Somehow, despite his frustration, Jamil’s own lips wanted to curl up too.

“Hmm. Maybe he will.”

Sure, Jamil could’ve called Kalim’s phone, to make it easier to find, but it was not that urgent, was it?

Jamil took another bite of his food, keeping an eye on you from the corner of his eye.

How was his mind so empty and so buzzing at the same time?

“You know-”

“So-”

You looked at each other, both just as surprised that the other had spoken up at the same time.

Even your surprised look was so-

“You first,” Jamil said. The way you bit your lip... Jamil had to raise a cup to his lips, slowly sipping his drink.

“Just… Feels like it’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you be still, you know. Or exchanged more than two words with you,” you said. You were attempting a light, joking tone, yet it was quite clear there was more to it.

“You say that like it would be unusual for me to be busy.”

He was not prepared for the way your soft sigh tugged at his heartstrings.

“No. It is not.”

You were both quiet after, poking at your meals. Normally, Jamil would’ve cherished such a moment of peace, yet this particular silence between you two was decidedly awkward.

Where was your usual chatter? Why weren’t you looking at him like you usually did?

“If you’re worried about me, don’t. I’m fine,” Jamil said, some softness creeping into his tone despite his best intentions.

“That's what Kalim said too,” you said. Yet the way you looked at Jamil made it clear you were still skeptical.

Wait.

Had you clammed up earlier because it had been Jamil you had been talking about with Kalim? That Kalim had comforted you about?

The thought twisted his stomach into knots.

Eta: you can find part 3 here, part 4 here, and finally part 5 here. Hasdhfsdf the way I fought with that last scene I swear. I don't even want to know how many versions I went through, trying to figure out how to say what I wanted without rubbing it into your face or making it too veiled. The joys of trying to convey things through a limited pov. Hopefully it came out reasonably balanced in the end. Rip to all those sentences that were lovely on their own but didn’t work for the whole. Hopefully I can rehome y’all one day. I do have thoughts for part 3 and part x (might be some chapters between those two as well, who knows at this point), so maybe we'll see those at some point, too. Tag list: @colliope @crystallizsch @diodellet @jamilsimpno69 @jamilvapologist @twstgo If you'd like to be tagged for future works, let me know! (Just be aware that sometimes I do also write nsfw, though you can certainly ask to be tagged only for particular kinds of works.)

[gracie-rosee]

love when fictional men get all feral and protective over their wife, not because they can’t protect themselves but because they are simply not worth wasting their wife’s time. “You should be grateful it’s me because she is worse.” Yes.

[cloudysfluffs]

HI HI I saw in your tags that you take AT requests, if it's not too much trouble could you draw prismo? Lee or ler, either is good xp Also no pressure!! I rlly love your art🫶🫶

HIII thank you first of all!!!!!!!! and OFC id love to draw prismo!!!!!!!!!<33333

im a huge sucker for prisjake sorry :PPP they make me absolutely insane /pos

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

I could say that ASOIAF is a very medieval lit story at heart and you’d be like, “well no shit Sherlock, tell me something I don’t know 🙄”.

And I’d say: “Ok bet. ASOIAF’s medieval core is best exemplified through Jon Snow and Bran Stark, two distinct yet mirrored iterations of one hero-knight whose origins can be traced to Percival and his magical quest. Both are Percival (and both are potentially the grail king) but one is as close a 1:1 copy as we can get (Jon) and the other is the Percival archetype completely flipped over its head before it even begins (Bran). Jon, by the author’s own admission, is the fantasy hero in the most traditional sense. He’s Percival who was inspired by the knights and left his mother’s castle to chase after chivalric glory (Jon III AGoT), only to find out that he has a massive misunderstanding of the knight’s purpose and honor (ACOK/ASOS arcs). No one told him of the ethical dilemmas involved with being a knight. No one told him that he could meet the fair maiden and either be completely incapable of helping her (Gilly) or help her, leave her, and be burdened by her death (Ygritte). No one told him how hard it would be to have his entire world view upended and upon going back to his fellow knights and saying ‘hey friends maybe we should all re-evaluate the system in which we operate and how it might be causing us to betray the vows we swore’ he’d be met with disdain. No one told him that, like Percival, he might look back to his mother’s home and see what has become of it (and his sister whom he left) and upon making the decision to go back to it he dies before he can even get his foot out of the gate. Percival made it back home and Jon might too, but where Percival still had his mother’s shirt to remind him of his boyhood Jon had to kill the boy because the fate of the world depended on it. Jon stumbles and rises, only to stumble again. But nonetheless, he gets to be a knight. But on the other hand, there’s poor Bran! He doesn’t even get to fail at being a knight in the first place because that storyline was fucking taken from him before he could realize his dream of leaving his mother’s home. Jon at least got his call to action. Bran’s dazzling dream of knighthood doesn’t even get off the ground (quite literally). He climbs, falls immediately, and once his eyes are awakened he realizes that he is now incapable of being Percival as he’d wish to be. There’s no battling evil knights. There’s no saving fair maidens. But then he’s visited by a wizened old man who’s like ‘hey Percival, you can never be a knight but I’ll teach you how to be a mighty wizard!’ And that would be cool and all….BUT BRAN WANTS TO BE A KNIGHT GODDAMNIT! When he auditioned for the medieval lit play, he picked up the Percival/Arthur script. Yet that’s not what he ultimately got when the cast list finally got out. Because who the fuck switched it out his hero-knight script for the Merlin one??! So now he has to try and figure out how to be a knight who’s actually a wizard, and it fucking sucks y’all.”

[kelpermoosee]

For ur Nintendo high olimar, do u think his voice was always that deep in HS or was it high pitched till a random Tuesday came by n it dropped to what we have in canon??

Oh man, I actually haven’t considered this at all 😭😭😭 I guess my brain automatically jumped to him having a deep voice, since the cast of Nintendo High usually keeps voices close to their canon counterparts, which makes sense!

HOWEVER, the idea of him having a stupid, lame, squeaky voice at first is absolutely adorable and I’m totally going to steal that, 100%. THANK YOU.

The moment it dips he probably gets super embarrassed about it, and swears to take a vow of silence that lasts for like…two days. And the second he utters a single word everyone is absolutely fucking baffled (rightfully), and it’s the talk of their year for an hour before they eventually move onto something else like all things in Nintendo High do

[pipinpali]

Gtober - day 4: Inverted Size

Tw: Fake blood, injury

First one im happy with!! ! hooray! !

I think their personalities are a tiny bit off but they dont talk much in this,, also they have been living entirely different lives technically so. yk

[starry-bi-sky]

finally giving fem danyal her own au and fulfilling my 'danny is an animal whisperer' agenda at the same time: mother of monsters danyal 2.0

i say "2.0" because TECHNICALLY 'mother of monsters danyal' is an au I made back in June for Dark fem!Danyal (who I promptly named Layal). However, I haven't posted much for her yet, and I like the "mother of monsters" premise too much to leave it only to Layal. Plus Danyal in that au was going to become the mother of monsters anyway, just with significantly less world domination and mass extinction.

'Animal whisperer' Danny has been something I've been thinking about since my latest DP 'wolfpack au' post and it's! So fun to think about, and who no better to assign the idea to than Danyal Al Ghul? Who comes from a family infamously known for their love of animals and nature?

Fem Danyal is just purely self-indulgent. *gestures wildly at her* i just lomvb,,, her,,,, I've only really mentioned her in context of the 'Things in Threes' au/my first Danyal al Ghul au with the facial scar, but she's!!! I love her. She deserves her own au <33

So kill three birds with one stone! Make a post about it.

Anyways, Danny has a large lair. Similar to cult leader danyal, her lair is a giant mountain region resembling nanda parbat with a big temple/palace-like area built into the mountain. It's large, it's overflowing with natural flora, with its own mini-floating islands hovering over some areas, and it's also completely empty.

Danny takes one look at her lair upon first meeting, -- noting that it looked relatively smaller from the outside -- and promptly, with the elegance of an Al Ghul, goes "What the hell??" Because yes, while she does enjoy her own solitude and privacy, this is a bit ridiculous.

For heaven's sake, there's even a massive lake in there! What's she going to do with all this space? Can she make it any smaller? Why is it so big in the first place? This looks borderline like one of the mega-islands!

She finds out later that apparently, the amount of ectoplasm a ghost has can have an effect on the size of their lair. And since she has such a large core, her lair reflects that. Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff, it's bigger on the inside so it doesn't take up "too much space" on the outside. Don't worry about it too much.

Danyal isn't totally opposed to having such a large lair, she's just... a bit baffled by it. It feels like so much wasted space is all. All this flora and no fauna to enjoy it with. It's practically eerie.

She decorates her temple-palace area, transforming rooms to match her needs as she sees fit. In the center of the inner gardens is a massive tree that she likes to climb, with twisting, winding branches. Sam and Tucker have honorary rooms, even if they can't safely leave the specter speeder for long periods of time, even with proper safety equipment. So does Jazz. Ali (Dani) has one too, but he can actually use that one, and Danny brought him to her lair so he could decorate it himself.

She has a personal garden, but for the most part she lets the flora exist as it is. Too much space to cultivate it en masse anyways.

Skip to a few weeks later, on her next visit to Clockwork. She developed a habit of going to see him semi-regularly just because. She enjoys his wisdom, and he has a lot of stories to tell, and when he's not being the cryptic and esoteric timekeeper, he's a bit goofy.

(pushing my dadwork agenda here,,, i think Danny deserves to go 'hey, Lord Clockwork, do you want me to buy you something' while she's at walmart, only to receive a singular glowing sticky note that says 'cucumber gatorade'.)

(She insists on referring to him with his proper titles even for the most mundane of things because it's proper, but Clockwork sees a future where she eventually calls him "Cee" and by all things in existence is he determined to get there. Anyways,,,)

On her next visit to Clockwork, just as she is about to leave, Clockwork stops her and goes; "Ah, I have something for you. Hold out your hands."

Danny does as such, and Clockwork doesn't give out things often, so her curiosity has spiked to the highest levels. He turns away from her for a moment, using his staff to summon whatever it is he needs, and when he turns around.

He drops a fish into her hands. Granted, a fish in a small glass tank. But a fish nonetheless. A small one, roughly about the size of her finger, with a blue-black, eel-shaped body and four sets of glowing eyes. She can see thin, almost translucent, but spiny fins down its back and the start of bioluminescent markings. It's swimming around in circles in its small container.

"Lord Clockwork." Danyal says all too calmly.

"Yes, Danyal?"

"What is this?"

"That is an adolescent leviathan, Danyal." She’s transfixed onto the tank, but she doesn’t need to see Clockwork’s face to hear the smile he’s stifling.

The myriad of emotions that runs through her all at once threatens to overwhelm her, and she can’t tell if the feelings are negative or positive. So she carefully closes her eyes to breathe in through her nose.

“Clockwork.”

“Ah, I see you’ve dropped formalities.”

She ignores that.

“Why have you given me an adolescent leviathan?”

She's expecting the trickster to look amused when she opens her eyes. Instead, he just looks endeared. "I know you're fond of animals," he says, "and you always look amazed when you come across an animal of the realms. So I thought you might enjoy taking care of the young beast, it's mother is dead so it has no one to care for it."

Oh.

"But, if you don't like it," Clockwork's hands reach out for the tank, "I can simply take it back--"

Danyal shifts the tank out from his reach and hugs it possessively. "I never said that. How do I care for it?"

And so clockwork gives her a list, and when Danyal returns to her lair, she sets up a large tank in her room for the leviathan to swim in -- it's much too small for the lake right now, she thinks. She'll feel better if it's somewhere she can find it. She names him Suhā.

Suhā grows quickly, and by the end of the mortal month she transforms one of the rooms into a large pond for him to swim around in. He's a very loyal beast, recognizing her as it's mother of some kind. Danyal takes great care ensuring that her beastie gets quality care, and Suhā swims to the surface to see her when he senses her in the room.

It spirals from there. Somehow, Pandora catches wind that Clockwork gave her a leviathan, and so the next time Danyal visits the Greater Athens, she gives her a baby chimera. It's eyes are still sealed shut, Danyal can't bring herself to say no. She names the little beastie Firas.

Frostbite hears about it too, and not to be outdone, gives her an animal she's never even heard of. Infinite-realms born, apparently. A fox-like creature with two small horns like an impala, four eyes, and tall legs. The name isn't something she's quite sure how to write down, and she's positive that her friends won't be able to comprehend it. She names her Eira.

Getting the three of them used to each other was... interesting. Suhā tried to eat Firas when Danyal first introduced the two, and they've hated each other ever since. Firas and Eira are seemingly getting along. Her island already feels full enough with the three of them on it.

Of course, that's not the end of it. With her luck, she begins stumbling across other monsters. Realms-borne or otherwise. An injured hydra in the Grecian islands that, through lots of trial and error, Danyal is able to rehabilitate and heal. It routinely comes to visit her afterwards.

A griffin with a broken wing that she moves permanently to the island that likes to keep to itself, but tends to come down when she's near. It gets along best with Firas.

A panther-like monster from the Shades Woods that had six legs and three tails, with ends that reminded her of a venus flytrap. It stuck around the heavy foliage and she can only make out where it was when she saw its golden eyes reflect.

She befriends a young indrik with its leg injured, and much like the hydra it follows her back to her island, and stays there in the mountains. It comes out when she's alone, much like her other beasts.

She receives two more leviathan -- one from clockwork, and one she finds herself while exploring the deeper and darker recesses of the Ghost Zone. It was huddled against the carcass of its mother, and she managed to befriend and get close enough to it to bring it back to her island. Suhā is fully grown by then, with a head bigger than Danyal herself and he still likes to stick her head out of the water for nuzzles when she's near.

He's not very happy with his new siblings, but he's not trying to eat them when she's not looking. So she calls it a win in her book.

And it's not just large beasts either; smaller animals begin popping up when she's not looking. Bird-like creatures and small mammals, and she swears she saw a doe (or something resembling a doe) grazing in the forest while she was walking by.

She takes back with her a lone snake egg once, and it grows so big it wraps around her island and sleeps with its massive head on the mountain beside the temple, like some smaller breed of Jörmungandr.

And on and on it goes. Some of the beasts she comes across never step foot onto her island, some of them follow her back, while others she has to carry back. Not all of the ones that follow her stay, and Danny rehabilitates the injured and releases them when they're fully healed.

It's hectic, and busy, and frankly she loves it. Some of her rehabilitated beasts return to visit her, or to have their children somewhere on the island, or whatever it is they need to do.

She becomes a bit infamous for it. She goes to visit Dorathea once, and as she's walking through the streets she can hear some of the denizens whispering while she walks past.

"Is that her?"

"Her highness' friend? Yes--"

"--that's the one--"

"--Mother of monsters--"

Danny's not sure how to feel about that.

Although, she can't say she's opposed.

Danyal Al Ghul, Mother of monsters, raiser of beasts. It has a nice ring to it.

[tiredandoptimistic]

What really sets late seasons MASH apart for me is the way all the characters settle into this sense of comfort and familiarity. The characters are far from getting along perfectly, but it's so clear that they all love each other and share a bond that really can't be quantified. Specifically, I just adore the friendship between Hawkeye, BJ, Charles, and Margaret; how they squabble and prank each other but it's all built on this solid feeling of care. It's not like the stuff Hawkeye and Trapper would pull on Frank at the beginning, it's hijinks with an emotionality behind it that makes the whole thing deeply compelling to me. In particular, Margaret and Charles are two of my favorite characters and it just warms my heart to see them getting unabashedly silly and even vulnerable with people who they once acted so superior to. They're allowed to have friends and goof off! They can show weakness!

Even when characters fight (looking at you, mustache BJ), it feels like it's coming from a very genuine place. Every side of the conflict gets its moment of understanding, even when one of them is acting out of line. A couple of my favorite scenes are when Margaret calls BJ and Hawkeye out on their bullshit, but it works because she cares about them and believes that they can do better (as people, not as soldiers). Audience and characters alike are worried whenever somebody starts acting erratically, because we know them and we get what this implies about their mental state.

A lot of this comes down to the changing writing staff and actors like Alan Alda and Loretta Switt getting more influence over their characters, and it's great! I love how the show evolved over time to stay meaningful in a way that a pure sitcom can't really do. I think the show running for eleven years really did a lot to capture the bond that's forged by war, since three years feels like a whole hell of a lot longer when you're in a situation like that. It makes sense that they'd all change so much, even though that level of development wouldn't happen in three years of broadcast television.

Anyways, this is just to say that I like it when people are friends. Give them a weirdly intense bond that cannot truly be explained, it's good enrichment.

[jinx-xxed]

Returning the Favor

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; Something a little easy since I was too busy to do much else this week T-T I do enjoy this one though

Part of Written in the Stars

Summary; During your training with Supreme Leader Snoke, you become gravely injured. Kylo Ren helps you after the way you saved him from the wounds Rey left him with.

Content; Angst, takes place between TFA and TLJ, pupils under Snoke, blood and injury, Kylo bandages your wounds, he’s very gentle and attentive, you don’t expect it, shared misery, shared hatred of Snoke, reluctant feelings, nobody wants to admit what’s going on

Wc; 2.4k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

There’s the hiss of hydraulic doors, the crisp air of your unfamiliar quarters hitting you in the face. The cold has made a home within your bones, the snow that covers the planet outside penetrating through your layers and skin. You walk into your room with an absent sort of gait, stiff and barely moving. Your fists are clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms, trying anything to distract yourself from the agony that throbs along your back. Your breath comes in through your nose, each inhale another bolt of pain, each exhale like knives digging into your flesh. Three massive gashes, tearing through the entirety of your back, starting at one side and going diagonal right to the other, so wide that there’s barely any skin left that isn’t torn off. Your uniform sticks to you from the blood, the once gray material now turned another color entirely.

The iron scent of blood has been assaulting your nostrils for the past few hours as you sat with your wounds, forced to endure until you were given the mercy of being dismissed. You wish you could say that you’ve become numb to it, but you haven’t. The pain is still eating at you, it’s impossible to breathe, to think, to do anything but just stand there because moving at all just hurts more. You settle with staring at a spot on the metal floors; there’s a scuff mark, a streak of dirt probably left there by your boots at some point. It feels like there’s something coiled around your lungs, constricting your air, clogging your throat.

The Force swirls at the edge of your vision, a dark creature that hisses in your ears, eager to feed off your pain and use it to boost you like it had before. It served as wobbly support pillars during training, keeping you upright when the blood loss and the choking discomfort threatened to send you to the ground. You still see the red of your lightsaber in the back of your eyes, like it’s burned onto your retinas from when you’d twisted and slashed and swung—over and over and over again. Your hands had been holding it so tight as a way to distract yourself that you thought you might break it. Your anger is still simmering, sticking around with the last of your adrenaline as it steadily drains out of your system. Use that, a voice whispers through your mind, harness your emotions. The lights in the room flicker as your Force assaults them involuntarily, needing to go somewhere but not completely sure where.

There’s a drop of scarlet that slides down your back, creating an unpleasant tingling sensation that half-snaps you out of the trance you stuck yourself in. Your head lifts slowly, like you’re in a daze, the smallest of sighs expanding your chest. You can’t just let it remain like this, you need to try doing something, despite how difficult it may be. You begin by taking off your cloak, refraining from moving your arms as much as possible. The bloodied piece of clothing drops to the floor in a heap, further exposing your wounds to the cold air, biting into the open muscles that flex with the movement of your shoulder blades. You start an attempt to remove the rest of the layers, choking back a sob as the material just barely grazes the wounds. You think about how you’re supposed to do this—cleaning and dressing huge injuries on your back by yourself without passing out from the pain. In any normal circumstance, the Fleet would be here to help, or the medics within the Steadfast, or even BB-12. But none of that is here, none of it was allowed. You’re meant to keep your pain close like a childhood companion, it’s good for your training, it makes you stronger. You’d felt it, you’d felt that strength after you’d received the lashes, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

There’s something that ripples at the edge of your Force, like a water drop falling on the rim of a spider’s web, something familiar. Your attention pivots, pain suddenly not at the forefront of your mind. That second Force signature you feel is specific, it stands out amongst all others and it’s imposing in a way you’ve become so used to. There’s a beep, and then the doors are hissing open again, your head turning just as you’ve finally gotten off the outer layers of your uniform. Kylo stands there, his hand still laid on the activation panel, scratched and dented helmet tucked under one arm. His new scar stands out starkly against his face, black plaster gone to show the still healing pink and red marred skin. The treatment you’d given him when he first got that wound helped greatly in the healing process, speeding it along nicely and preventing more damage than necessary. He looks tired, you both do, but there’s a sense of accomplishment wafting from him. “You’re back.” You say, though quiet. He’s been off on a mission for the better part of two weeks at who knows where, doing who knows what, unsure of when he’d return.

“You’re injured.” He mutters, dark brown eyes studying your form, staying trained on your wounds for some time.

“What’s new?” You respond, beginning to peel off that final layer, your gray undershirt. The entire back is red, blood having been smeared all across the fabric, pasting it to your skin. Every layer is ruined and will need to be tossed, with matching gashes slashed into each one. It’s a visible struggle, fingers shaking and body tensing beneath the pain, trying to do something as simple as removing a shirt without crying out. But then there’s warm, leather covered hands that replace your own, grabbing the hem of the shirt and ripping it in half all the way up to the neckline with ease. Kylo slides it off your shoulders, keeping it away from your wounds, avoiding further irritation.

“What can I do?” He asks softly with a slight waver to his deep voice, born from a desperation to make this go away somehow, to make it easier.

“In my bag there’s-“ you pause, taking a shallow breath, attempting to fight off the dizziness that washes over you and keep yourself upright, “there should be a can of ointment and gauze, if you could just-“

“Sit.” He orders, unclipping his thick cape and laying it on the floor for you to sit on. You don’t hesitate to oblige him, despite the way you struggle to get down to the ground, nearly puncturing your lip with how hard you bite it. He moves around the room with a Commanders’ efficiency, hardened expression set with his determination. He rifles through one of the few bags you were allowed which you used to smuggle in some basic medical supplies. You refrained from pain killers, deciding that was too risky, but the ointment is like a pain killer on its own anyway. It has stronger properties than bacta, but it’s so impossible to find and get a hold of you only use it in times of desperate need. Now is one of those times. Kylo goes into the refresher, coming out with two rags and a bucket of warm water. You wonder what the second one is for when he hands it to you. “To bite.” He says simply. Ah, good idea. He settles behind you, his appreciated body heat passing to you from his proximity. You assume he just came from a transport since he doesn’t feel like he’d been in the snow like you were.

A strange sense of guilt pricks at you; he’s exhausted, and it’s your own fault this happened. This doesn’t need to become his problem too. “You don’t have to, I could-“

“I’ll do it.” He says roughly, like he’s offended at your suggestion that he leaves you. That’s that, then. There’s no fighting with him when he has that tone—a certain one he really only uses with you. He goes to dip the rag into the water while you stick the second one between your sharp teeth, preparing for the worst of what’s to come. You stiffen at the first tap of the cloth against your skin and he hesitates, allowing you to relax before trying again. He’s methodical, working from the outside and going in, closer to the wounds that split you open. The water in the bucket turns red almost instantly when the rag is dipped back into it, a bloody shimmer reflecting the lights within the room. The slightest touch, the slightest pull on the skin sends electric shocks of pain up your spine and through your body that has you biting down harder on the rag, holes no doubt forming within the material that’s soaked in your spit.

A sudden hiss rips from your throat as he moves down to the gash in the middle, the tug on it irritating both the upper and lower wounds and creating a pain that comes in threefold. Your nails dig into the cloak beneath you, vision flashing for a second and your head swimming. “I’m sorry.” Kylo says, meaning it genuinely as he continues his work.

“Don’t be.” You manage to mutter around the rag and your pain that has you trying to clench your teeth together. He shouldn’t be sorry, it’s not his fault and he’s doing more for you now than you could’ve asked for. You think about how oddly perfect his timing was, returning to the base right when you would need him.

He finishes cleaning around the gashes a few minutes after, even though it doesn’t matter much as new blood just replaces the old. At least now it isn’t smeared up and down the entirety of your back. He leaves the bloodied rag on the rim of the bucket, the thick smell of the ointment filling your nose as the can is popped open. You take the second rag out of your mouth, tongue and lips feeling unbearably dry. You note that he removed his gloves, his bare calloused fingers scooping the slimy substance out of the container and spreading it gently along the edges of your injuries. You sigh in relief, the cooling salve immediately getting to work on fixing what was broken, putting out the fire of pain that had been ravaging you for hours. It tingles and has a strange heat to it, caused by the way it starts up cell regeneration and stitches skin back together.

Now that the worst of it is over and Kylo is coating gauze strips in the ointment, a silence settles over you. It allows you to reflect, to suspend yourself within the Force for a little while. You notice there’s a shared misery that’s covered you two like a heavy blanket; it’s already been seven months here with Snoke, trying to complete his training and to survive at the same time. It’s exhausting, it’s painful, it’s meant to break you, and it’s meant to put you back together again afterwards. It’s a path of rebirth, coming out of the darkness as something brand new and letting it become you. You both feel it, you notice it in each other, the darkening of your Forces, the amplitude of your strength and emotions. You still don’t know what to feel about it, about all of this, but you hide it. You hide that split deep down within yourself so neither Snoke nor Kylo could ever find it. Gods know what would happen to you if they do.

Beyond that, beyond the shared misery, there’s something else. It’s fleeting, barely noticeable unless you really focus on it. It’s a gentle trill, almost like a purr within the atmosphere of the Force, coming from Kylo. It’s muted, hidden away behind his usual shielding but bits of it slip between the cracks, showing itself to you. It leads to a sense of contentment, like he’s happy to be helping you, to take care of you for once after what you’ve done for him. Your fingers twitch absently, just a small tell of your own emotion, bubbling up in your chest.

Gauze is plastered across your wounds and secured by being wrapped across your chest with care, the bottom most layers already getting soaked through with blood. “What happened?” Kylo asks—something he’s been wanting to ask for a while now.

You consider your answer, eyes trained forward on the wall. “I disobeyed Master and so I was punished.” You leave it at that. You remember the pain you’d felt, forced to take what you had earned, and to then use it to your supposed “advantage”. You know he wonders what you could’ve done to result in something like this, but he doesn’t press, it’s not his place.

He secures the last strip of gauze, looking over his work with satisfaction. “There.” He stands, taking the bucket of bloody water and rags back into the refresher, cleaning up the small mess of supplies he’d made. He slides his gloves back on, then grabbing his helmet from its resting place by the door. “I have to meet with the Master, I’ll return later to help redress them.”

“Kylo,” you say, just as he’s about to leave, the door already open. He pauses and turns, eyes meeting yours. “I’m glad you’re here.” It’s one of the most genuine things you’ve ever said to him, because you do mean it. If he wasn’t here, you most likely would’ve passed out and died from blood loss. If he wasn’t here, you don’t think you would’ve been able to make it as far as you have in Snoke’s games. He makes it that much more bearable, that much more survivable. It feels strange to admit that to yourself after all the struggle between the two of you. It’s easy to look past the hatred you felt for him when you’re both suffering the same fates.

Kylo holds your gaze for a moment longer, swallowing thickly, his throat bobbing. There’s something he wants to say, something that sits on his tongue, but he holds it back and shoves it behind those walls within his mind where it’s safe and unknown. But there’s a shift, a change in his eyes, that gives him away. There’s a second more of hesitation before he leaves quickly, seemingly eager to get away from you.

Feeling it between your fingers, looking down, you realize he left his cape behind.