#the little show that could
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They really did hit gold with the OG 911, didn't they? They got some great and silly and heart wrenching stories, they wrote some incredibly engaging characters and then they've got an incredible cast who all seem to love each other. They got freaking Angela Bassett spearheading the show. They were cancelled by stinky Fox but immediately got picked up by ABC and somehow got bigger and better. They can make near-perfect episodes in their eighth season. This show is a treat and the fact that network television like this exists today is something I'm so thankful for.
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Finished up my Lost rewatch tonight with The End. Predictably sobbed my way through most of it. The older I get the harder it hits. And of all the reunion scenes, this remains my favorite.
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it's acTUALLY ON MY TV AGAIN YOU GUYS
F R I N G E
#taking this as a sign#it's my white tulip#i really needed a miracle and this is it#maybe it sounds silly to you#but then again you have no idea#fringe#fringe on fox#the little show that could#i miss you lance reddick
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Personally I think that Azula should have been redeemed simply so that she can become Zuko's horrible little advisor who whispers evil little plans to him so that he can do the exact opposite
#the only reason she gets this job is bc he doesnt trust her anywhere else in the palace#its like enrichment for manipulative girls#also so that he can set her on asshole deligates like a rabid little lapdog#she just has mean fuckin pomeranian energy that thing bites then lights you on fire w flames so hot theyre cold#i think their sibling dynamic could be sooo fucking funny its insane#azula#azula atla#atla#avatar the last airbender#zuko#atla zuko#firelord zuko#DISCLAIMER I AM YET TO READ THE COMICS SO IDK WHAT HAPPENS TO HER IN THEM#also long overdue for a rewatch of the show its insane
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can't believe that skeleman has turned on us, and Halloween Prom is tomorrow.
(what a top-tier UM...we are about to be just totally obliterated in the absolute silliest way. what possible use could this power have outside of bringing us to the brink of utter holiday disaster.)
#art#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland spoilers#lost in the book with nightmare before christmas#hajimari no halloween#unique magic posters#this was so unforseeable!#i hope malleus gets pumpkinified immediately and sebek has to carry him around on a little velvet cushion#i hope jade puts his plant knowledge to good use by being extremely judgy about the firmness of everyone's rind#i hope that everyone is still wearing their silly little hats as pumpkins#(i know they won't. but if we don't have hope we have nothing.)#and i'm still feeling like oogie's gotta show up later and menace jamil just by existing#perhaps we'll have to team up against him with the scullsman or something 👀#also just to get it out before being proven entirely wrong#my theory is still that he's from the past and we gotta teach him about the True Meaning of Halloween (aka candy and funtimes)#so he can go back to his own time and become the founder of modern-day candy and funtimes halloween or something#bootstrap paradox be damned#i could be entirely off-base but that's what i'm thinking right now#idk he just has the vibe of an old-timey boy to me#he's had the great misfortune of being born before there were hot topics where he could meet other jack skellington fanatics#too late for the black plague too early for the black parade 😔
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Mark smiling after Oscar said he had to "hang on for dear life."
#HES SO FUCKING PROUD OF HIMMM MM ABASDAHKLDMKWFSKVDL#IM DYING IM DYING#LOOKK AT HIS SMILE AAAAAGHHHHHHHHH#HES SO PROUD HE KNEW HE COULD DO IT OMGGGGGGGGG#oscarmark fellows are we feeling okay????#i was like omg show mark!!!#did not expect them to show the most handsome mark ever omfg#oscarmark#f1#formula 1#mark webber#oscar piastri#2024 azerbaijan gp#2024 azerbaijan grand prix#we do a little bit of f1
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so how about that update, huh
#this is all i have to offer rn </3#im working on Actual Art but for now all you guys get is Half Assed Meme#eddie dear. eddie. eddie dear. Eddie Dear. EDDIE DEAR-#oh man. oh boy. oh fuck. its so over (we're so back)#scribble salad#welcome home#welcome home puppet show#eddie dear#i feel like i just walked into a disaster recovery group a week late w/ a smoothie#heely-ing in here Whats Up Fuckers#ok that was a creepy glitch#for a second every button i pressed created a new tag that said#'Who Else Is Traumatized!!!'#a little unnerving and Very on brand! one could call it WHcore... or somethn...
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the liberty annabeth has been given to be deeply unserious and true to her character in the new “pjo” books while being deprived of that aspect of her character elsewhere is so personal to me because what do you mean she wants to duet with percy on shallow, cheerfully bon voyages her boyfriend off a cliff, carries around a backpack of mystery mouskatools including herbal tea and snake treats just in case, instructs percy “don’t stop skipping, skippy” when he has the rainbow staff for absolutely no other reason aside from shits and giggles, breaks into his bedroom for no reason besides the fact that she simply likes the challenge, apparently regularly signs autographs and is fawned over up on olympus, and keeps suggesting cute and dumb shit to get magically scribed into percy’s diy college rec letter. and now she’s giggling with her architecture friends about glass and marshmallows and wants to throw a haunted house party in a scary goddess’s mansion (a goddess scary enough to make her boyfriend literally piss his boxers) because she’s too self-assured to believe they can’t evade the consequences and too excited to experience something she’s never gotten to throughout her childhood and adolescence. not to mention the callback to her love of animals, no matter how demonic, and how she misses playing fetch with cerberus…oh annabeth chase, the woman that you are. like yes let her be impulsive and unserious and excited and batshit and a troll because she’s just a girl trying to have fun in a miserable fucking world godammit!! rick riordan, they could never make me like you, but i’ll give you this one thing—the whimsy has been restored and its name is annabeth chase
#annabeth chase#percy jackson#pjo#percabeth#percy jackson and the olympians#cotg#wottg#wottg spoilers#she’s THEE best girl!!#if only ‘shallow’ could have been substituted w smth from 2010…#if the new series is so unserious why tf is the show so lacking in a little whimsy like the dichotomy is insane
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I do think Blazing Saddles handled its one depiction of native americans very poorly, and the full extent of its representation of chinese workers on the railroad is they were literally just there. not even one single speaking line. unclear if this is worse or better than the redface.
it's fucking phenomenal at lampooning antiblack racism though. extremely blatant, extremely funny satire, which is constantly and loudly saying "racism is the philosophy of the terminally stupid at best and morally depraved at worst, and we should all be pointing and laughing at them 24/7"
plus the main character is a heroic black man who has to navigate a whole lot of bullshit but is constantly smirking at the extraordinarily stupid racists and inviting the audience into the joke. the one heroic white character is a guy who was suicidally depressed until he met the protagonist and they just instantly became buds, and he's firmly in a supporting role the whole time and happy to be there. the protagonist saves the day with the help of his black friends from the railroad, and uses the position of power he was given to uplift not only those friends, but all the railroad workers of other minorities too, in an explicit show of solidarity.
anyone saying "Blazing Saddles is racist" had better be talking about its treatment of non-black minorities. it had better not be such superficial takes as "oh but they say the n-word all the time" or "they have nazis and the kkk in there!" because goddamn if that's the full extent of your critique I very seriously suggest you read up on media analysis. there is too much going over your head, you need to learn to recognize satire.
#blazing saddles#finx watches tv#finx rambles#I recognize that I'm saying all this as someone who's not black#but I am also saying it as someone with a basic understanding of race relations in the usa#and a basic understanding of sarcasm#bc it really does not take more than that to recognize what they're doing in this movie#it is NOT subtle#and it is very funny#mel brooks movies are kinda hit or miss for me ngl#men in tights is great if a bit too crass for my taste#spaceballs has great jokes but the central story lacks any real heart so it doesn't grab me#history of the world was just kind of unpleasant and then I switched it off#but blazing saddles? phenomenal#I could not stop laughing the whole way through#and the central story DOES have heart bc it's the friendship between bart and#whassisname#jim#the Kid#plus bart working out how to succeed at an impossible task#also frankly cleavon little just grounds the comedy really well even before gene wilder shows up and we get their chemistry#bc he's cool calm collected and constantly inviting the audience into the joke#but the character's not too cool to ever mess up or ever be silly#he makes bad choices and gets into bad situations and then has to get himself out of them#but it's.....oh wait duh there's a term for this already#he's the straight man#he grounds all the zany nonsense by being in strong contrast to it#and he does a great job of it!#anyway#point is I deeply enjoyed this movie and I'm glad I finally watched it
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I've been getting into X-Men lately! Or, well. One specific X-Man.
#nightcrawler#kurt wagner#xmen#x men comics#x men#kettlebird art#fanart#comic fanart#marvel#marvel comics#marvel fanart#mutant#bamf#listen I like the rest of the team a lot#genuinely its such a fascinating dynamic for a marvel comic team#and the concept is far more interesting to me than anything else they've put out#but c'mon#I'm not immune to fuzzy elf#the moment he showed up there was no way I could stay impartial he was in an instant fave#Also yes this is my own outfit design#I tried not to stray too far from his classic outfit but I think he should be a little more swashbucklery#and a whole lot sluttier. Sir get those arms out where I can see them
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When fellow Lost fans ask me why I don't like Jack and never will, this is one of the scenes I pull out.
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#lost#the little show that could#whatever happened happened#were they all imperfect?#yes#but i've always had the hardest time forgiving jack's flaws#because he's so fucking sanctimonious about it all
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i think it makes me a better agent. if you have a problem with that, i'm sorry. you can fire me. but i hope you don't.
#fringe#fringe on fox#mood board#not my pics just my mood board#olivia dunham#phillip broyles#happy birthday Fringe#the little show that could
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There are two things that Damian knows that he knows Father doesn’t.
He has an older brother
He was dead
(And a secret third thing: Damian was glad he was dead. They did not get along.)
Well. No, correction, they were two things that Damian knew that Father didn't. Past tense. Strange magic swirled through the air and created a mirage before his eyes, and immediately a scowl forms across his face.
The mirage shifts and shimmers like the light hitting a slowly turning prism, and then it settles into a memory. One that Damian does not recall. Like looking into a tv screen, it shows, faintly, a room, with most of the magic going into the image of a crib.
His mother was standing on one side, and next to her, standing on his tiptoes was a small five year old boy looking up at her. With dark hair and skin that was only few shades lighter brown than Damian's, the little boy's resemblance to Damian was undeniable.
However, his eyes were blue. Not green. Damian's scowl deepens, and he sinks back. "Danyal." He mutters, and feels eyes turn on to him.
Danyal Al Ghul. Damian's older brother. A prodigal swordsman like Damian, and five years his senior. He'd be fifteen if he was still alive. His memory of the last time he saw his brother was still clear in his mind.
(A sword to Danyal's neck. Stars were glittering through his window. Damian was five, Danyal ten. He is not sure why Danyal had snuck into his room, all he remembers is hearing a sound and on instinct reaching for his sword.)
(His brother had intercepted easily. But had not shoved the sword away. Moonlight hit his blue eyes, and Damian remembers seeing the pupils shrink to let the light in. His eyes looked almost silver.)
(His brother bares his teeth at him. Damian wants to slice his neck more than anything, and he bares his teeth back. "Good." Danyal says, his voice low in a hiss, "Your reflexes are good, little brother.")
("Of course they are," Damian remembers snarling, and presses the sword closer. But it does not budge. "I am an Al Ghul.")
(Something unrecognizable passes through his brother's eyes, and his mouth twists into something like a smile. "I know." He says, and tilts his head downwards at him. "And you will be great.")
(His brother shoves the sword back, causing Damian to stumble. And like the wind, he is gone.)
(The next morning, he goes on a mission with mother and a few others. Mother is the only one to return with Danyal's sword, and a red-eyed look in her eyes. Damian does not mourn. Now there's only one of them.)
"Momma." The little Danyal-mirage speaks, a furrow between his childlike brows as mother lowers a bundle into the crib. His blue eyes watch her, and lifts onto his toes to peer into the crib as she sets the baby down. "Who is this?"
Their mother's hand comes to rest along his back. "This is Damian, my son." She murmurs, voice low. "He is your little brother. Protect him well."
Damian scoffs internally -- not likely. He remembers every spar he ever had with Danyal, every harsh word and insult. His pushing, pushing, pushing for Damian to get up. To try again. Do it again. The only kindness he ever showed him was when his fingers bled. And even that was harsh, firm. Rolling gauze around his wrist and scolding him, telling him how to wield his weapon better.
(It was the same as everyone else, but somehow it hurt worse coming from his own brother.)
But he watches his older brother's youngest self tilt his head to the side, and then reach his chubby hand through the crib's bars. He runs small, blunt fingers over the baby's arm, and the baby jerks. Through the crib's bars, Damian sees himself grab Danyal's fingers.
And he scowls even deeper.
And Danyal's eyes... widen. He lets out a little gasp, and a small smile Damian's never seen him wear tilts at the corner of his mouth as he looks up at their mother. "Mother," he whispers, "he grabbed me!"
Damian... his scowl falters, for a moment.
He doesn't wait for a response, he looks back to the baby with sparking eyes. His expression melts like sugar as he bounces the finger being gripped tight by the small hand. "Hello, little brother." His brother says, voice its of usual firmness, but there's more fondness underlying it than Damian's ever heard. "My name is Danyal."
The mirage shifts before Damian can comprehend his older brother's voice. It shows the crib again, appearing as if a few days had passed. There is night lilting through the nearby window, and a creek of the door. The baby doesn't stir.
Danyal sneaks in, still wearing his training clothes and a sword strapped to his side. Damian's scowl returns, watching him creep over to the crib. Of course -- the last night he saw his brother wasn't the only time he'd snuck into his room.
Would he go so low as to attack an infant? Damian wonders, watching his brother cross the room to his crib. But while his fingers rest against the hilt, they never curl to unsheathe.
His brother peers into the crib again, and there it is again, that smile wider in the corner of his mouth. It's not a full one, but its as uninhibited as it gets. Dripping honey-sweet with awe. "You are so tiny." Danyal whispers, and pokes a finger back through the crib. It wriggles, then pokes Damian's cheek gently. "Was I as small as you when mother gave birth to me?"
There is no response from the baby. Not a coherent one anyways, the little thing snuffles and turns his head, mouth open to latch. Danyal stills, his eyes grow ever wider again.
Danyal says nothing else, just rests his cheek against the crib and watches the baby sleep in silence. The affection never leaves his young face.
Damian feels unsettled. Off-foot. This Danyal is foreign to him... He wonders what happened to have changed his brother's mind on him.
There's a scuffle, quiet, but there. Danyal picks up on it just as Damian does, and his head pricks up like a deer, head already turning away from the crib. The affection leaves his face, falling away like water into something serious. His blade is already slightly unsheathed.
Two assassins, belonging to grandfather, burst out of the shadows. Their swords swinging into the air and ready to strike.
Danyal kills them both, his back to the crib. It's not without struggle, and when the two assassins lay dead on the floor, the baby is wailing at the top of his lungs. Danyal has a laceration cleaving down diagonal of his cheek. It's close to his eye, just barely missed blinding him.
Damian never knew how he got that scar. He does now. (He doesn't know how to feel about it.)
His brother clutches his bleeding face, sheathing his sword as tears well up onto his face. But he turns towards the crib, and hurries over. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay." He hushes rapidly, the League-drilled seriousness fallen away to reveal a panic-stricken five year old. He sticks one hand into the crib, the one not clutching anything, and grabs little Damian's hand.
Their mother comes bursting in that moment, and Danyal turns his head towards her. "Mother." He says, his voice cracks un-wantingly. Their mother steps over the bodies of the assassins easily. "They tried to kill Damian."
"But they did not." Talias says, kneeling down next to the crib to inspect Danyal's face and Damian's well-being. When she finds nothing of concern beyond the injury, she continues. "You killed them before they could, Danyal. Well done."
The mirage of his brother nods, his eyes teary and red.
Damian... is discomfited. he never thought Danyal would kill assassins for him. He would have thought his brother would sooner look the other way. The mirage shifts again, and it quickly shows time passing.
Danyal sits in Damian's nursery every night, after that. He lays at the foot of the crib with his sword, a pillow and a blanket with him. Some nights there is nothing but peace -- or as close to peace as a baby could achieve -- and some days assassins break in.
Danyal kills each one.
The mirage shifts again, and it shows more memories of Danyal interacting with Damian during his youth too young for him to remember. His first steps, his first words.
"Danya." The small toddler of Damian says, arms reaching for Danyal.
A frown curls across Danyal's face, and pulls Damian into his lap. "No, no, little brother." He scolds, voice firm but.. softer. "It is Danyal, Damian. Danyal."
"Danya!"
Damian's brother sighs, but there is that same-small tilt at the corner of his mouth. A glimmer in his eyes. A glimmer... that Damian is finding he recognizes.
(He always thought his brother got that look in his eyes when he was mocking him. Was he wrong?)
The mirage shifts again, and this time it shows only mother and Danyal, alone. Danyal is older, taller. Seven, if Damian had to guess. Mother has a stern look on her face, her hands tight on his shoulders. "Damian will be starting training soon, my son."
Ah, then close to eight then. Training starts, always, at three years old. He watches Danyal nod, his expression mimicking their mother's. His arms are folded, always folded, behind his back, always neat.
"You can no longer have the relationship with your brother as you did before." Mother says.
Danyal's expression... falters. It shifts, it fluctuates. He looks surprised, thrown off. Like he isn't quite sure he heard what mother just said. His brows furrow. "What... do you mean, mother?"
"I mean what I said, Danyal." Mother says, stern, "Ra's will be keeping a closer eye on Damian now that he is of age to begin his training. He will not like if he sees you both getting along."
"I am sorry, my child. But your relationship with Damian ends here. You are rivals now, not brothers." In a cruel form a gentleness, mother raises her hand and tucks a stray curl out of Danyal's face.
Of course. Damian never had a relationship with his brother because of Grandfather. Of course. No, he's not feeling a little bitter. No. There's not an inner child that still, like a candleflame, wishes that he'd had a bond with his only flesh and blood.
Danyal is dead now. So it's not like it matters. He's happy about this.
Danyal frowns, and he steps back. He looks lost in thought. "We are still brothers, mother," he says, argues, and looks up to meet mother's eyes. "Let me train him, I will make sure he gets the skill he needs. If we must be rivals, then I will teach him how to defeat me. If he can defeat me, he can defeat anybody."
Their mother, and Damian, both blink in unison. Then mother smiles something sharp, calculated. She folds her hands behind her back. "Then do it. But you will make him hate you."
"...So be it."
Damian.... Damian is silent. His world axis has been tilted on its head. He is sliding, and sliding, and sliding down. Spinning. Many things click into place at once.
More memories from the mirage show. It shows Danyal training Damian. It shows their arguing, their bickering. It shows Danyal going to their mother to praise Damian and his skills, how fast he is picking up on the sword. How one day he will surpass even him.
It shows Danyal sitting outside Damian's bedroom door every night, listening in for anyone who dares to break in. His knees drawn to his chest, his sword at his side. Sometimes he sneaks in, sword drawn, when he hears a sound.
Some nights, Damian wakes up. He remembers those nights. Danyal standing over his bed with his sword unsheathed and tight at his side. He remembers the instant terror as he immediately reached for his own weapon.
His brother always scolded him for his lack of vigilance. That had he been anyone else, Damian would have had his neck cut. He would've been dead already. It only made Damian's hatred of him grow.
But he understands now. Because there were assassins in the room that Damian, four years old, three, did not notice. Not until later. He always assumed the attacks on him after Danyal's death had been because now there was a new heir to target.
It had been the only lesson he'd been even somewhat grateful for.
Then finally the mirage shimmers, and it shows Danyal, ten years old, in one of the training rooms, mid-spar with Mother. It's fast, sharp, impressive and like a blur. Damian is unsure if at ten which one of them was the better swordsman. Some of the assassins who have never met Danyal said Damian was, but the ones who had said it was Danyal. He'll never know.
In a lull in the fight, when their swords are crossed, mother speaks. "Ra's wants you and Damian to fight." She says, teeth grit into a deep scowl. The cross breaks and Danyal jumps back, he frowns.
"We have fought, mother." He says, and dives in first, swinging for mother's feet. Mother dodges, and slices at his arm. He swerves out of the way, twisting on his feet like a dance. "We are always fighting, doesn't he see our spars?"
"Not a spar like that, my son." Mother says, a snarl in her voice. She lunges, and Danyal blocks her blade. "A fight to the death. Father has grown tired of having two heirs."
That gets Danyal's attention -- or, more accurately, it distracts it. His eyes widen, and his sword lowers for a single moment. A mistake. "What?" Is all he gets out before mother has him on his back, her blade pressed to his throat.
He freezes. As does Damian. Danyal's brows furrow, then unfurrow, only to knot up again. "Mother, what do you mean a fight to the death?" He flips to his feet when mother removes the sword. She walks over to grab her water.
"Must I repeat myself, Danyal?" Mother snaps, rubbing her forehead before swigging from her canteen. "Father wants to find out which one of you is the stronger heir, and so you will fight to the death after your training in a few days."
Danyal's tan face loses a shade of color, he looks ashy. "There must be some mistake!" He exclaims, his arms gesturing out as he peers around mother. "There is a five year disparity between us, Damian has only just started training two years ago. It would be an unfair fight!"
"Do you think me unaware?" Mother whirls on him, and there is a grief-stricken look on her face. Like she is already mourning Damian's death. Damian feels ill. "Your skill is far beyond what Damian can accomplish right now, and there is nothing that I say that can convince Father otherwise."
Danyal wears an expression like he is scrambling for answers. A white knuckle grip on his weapon. There is a long silence, and his lower lip curls up. His throat bobs, he swallows. "Is there really nothing we can do?"
Mother makes a frustrated sound, pushing her loose hairs out of her face. "Not unless Father changes his mind, or I send one of you away. But Father would surely send someone to look for you or Damian."
"What if one of us faked our death?"
Mother stills. As does Damian. No, he thinks, stiff as a rod, no way. These mirages were lying, nothing but figments of an imagination. Of some quiet what-if that Damian had not yet stomped out.
Mother's expression shifts, and then turns contemplative. Danyal notices, and keeps pushing, he looks as hopeful as he could get beyond his usual unwavering, stone-like expression. "One of us could go to father--"
"No." Mother cuts off, voice sharp. Danyal wilts, confusion flittering across his face. Damian, from the corner of his eye, sees Father tense as stone. His white-slit eyes have not left the mirage. Nobody's has.
"Father will undoubtedly check there first, it would not be a good idea. You or Damian will have to go somewhere where he would not think to look. Someone unaffiliated with the League."
Danyal's face falls, shutters, and then closes up again into stone. Mother begins to pace, and Danyal's blue eyes follow her. "So a stranger?" He asks, and there is disgust lilting into his voice.
Mother nods, and she looks just as offput as Danyal.
The mirage of Damian's brother rolls his shoulders back. "Then I will do it, mother." He says, voice unwavering. There is a stubborn note behind it all, one that Damian recognizes. "I will fake my death, and Damian will stay here."
Mother's eyes turn sharp on him, and she stops in her spot. She pivots. "Are you sure?" She asks, eyebrow raising, "There is a chance you will never meet your Father if you leave. Nor will you see I or Damian again, if you do this."
Something like fear flickers across Danyal's face, eyes widening momentarily -- as if that very thought had not crossed his mind. But then it smooths over to sharp determination. He nods. "It would be the same for Damian if it was him instead. I will do it, Mother."
Damian feels ill again. Father has a strong set in his jaw, his teeth grinding.
Mother stares at Danyal, and then her expression softens. And like before, it is grieving. "In a few days time, I and another member of the League will be going on a mission to the American States. I will tell Father that you will accompany me, once there we will dispose of the other member and then orchestrate your death."
The American States. Danyal was here, in the country. He was out there somewhere -- but no this was fake. It had to be. Danyal was dead. A fool who got himself killed on a mission with mother and left the title of Heir to Damian.
Or maybe it had been his plan all along. His and mother's both.
...Was mother ever going to tell him?
The mirage of Danyal nods, sharp. Understanding. There is a gleam in his eyes that is not pride, it is tears. And when Mother leaves the room and leaves him alone, the stone-like expression on his face crumbles and falls.
His brother, ten years old, curls up his lip in an ugly way. It wobbles as the tears in his eyes do, and he brings up his hand to slam it over his mouth. And sinks to his knees, a yell-like sob muffled behind the skin.
His brother, ten years old, looks smaller than Damian remembers him being, and cries.
Damian has never seen Danyal cry. Not once in the mirage of memories, nor in his own.
The memory holds for a minute, and then disappears. And no new one shows up. The magic is gone, and it leaves a silence in its wake. Heavy, staticky, and full of revelations.
So there are two things that Damian knows that his Father now knows too.
He has an older brother
His older brother is alive.
(And a new secret third thing: Damian wasn't sure how to feel about it.)
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc prompt#dpxdc prompt#i promise this is a prompt#it just got very long#danyal al ghul au#my take on a danyal al ghul au#older brother danny#dpdc#dpxdc crossover#i know the usual gist is that danyal al ghul is a better knife thrower than he is a swordsman but hey#consider: phantom has a sword when he fights ghosts. how sick is that?#his ghost form having allusions to the LoA. its not obvious but its there#did i make danny brown skinned? yeah. because him being white or not is irrelevant to me and i wanted to make him darker skinned#thinking about the angst of bruce seeing his firstborn son going “i could stay with father!” and then said child being visibly crushed#when told no. and that he may never see his father ever. actually. if he fakes his death. and still doing it anyways for damian's sake#danny loves his little brother he just shows it in an unorthodox way. some of it is not his fault#also danny being an absolute grump in amity park is very funny to me. he's an arrogant little assassin child in AP who is only here for#his little brother's sake and safety. he loves his brother but that doesnt stop him from being an arrogant little brat#gremlin assassin child danny is so funny#i know this is very ironic for me to post after posting my thoughts on danyal al ghul aus and their missed potential#but actually this prompt is what spurred that post into creation in the first place actually.#because i was thinking about this au and then went “oh hey you know whats funny--” and then i#thought about it too much to the point where i had to make a post talking about it#tried to find a balance between danny being mature for his age and also still being a kid#like yeah he’s a trained assassin and has killed but also he’s a 10yo boy about to be separated - Assumingly permanently- from his family
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That joke on across the spiderverse reminded me so much of Trixie. Girl refuses to accept herself as a C-tier Twilight opponent lmao
#my little pony#MLP#meme#pony posting#i feel like trixie's showboating is gonna constantly pin her against people that could crush her like a bug#including her gf starlight glimmer lmao#and on my fic; sunset nyeh#celestia#twilight sparkle#trixie lulamoon#trixie is one of the funniest characters in this show i love her#friendship is magic#i should do more funies with her#across the spiderverse#mlp g4
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patchwork canary.
a comic about two girls, fate, and a powerful man who felt entitled to something that wasn’t his to own.
support me on patreon (if you’d like to see more comics like this one)
#cw: blood and implication of gore#lgbt#sapphic#comic#lesbian#nea and nary are meant for each other#its just that halfway through i realised a slowburn type romance suited them more#hence the fact they dont do any kissie smoochie stuff in this#not that physicality is the only way you can show romantic love#but i did just want to mention it in case it wasnt clear#theyre not /just/ friends basically#horror#just a little#id love it if this became my brand#slightly unsettling queer romantic stories#i struggled with this one quite a bit#just perfectionism#pushing and pulling to see where i could go with it#i hope you enjoyed it#and as always#thank you for reading#stillindigo art
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I truly genuinely believe they would get along so well
#columbo#benoit blanc#knives out glass onion#just watched it tonight …. so good dude I loved it#unpopular opinion maybe but way better than the firsr#first movie !! idk I like that benoit got to show his personality a little more : )#columbo vc your partners a chef? well that’s just wonderful.. I could probably burn water if my wife ever let me in the kitchen#digital art#twizz scribs
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