#and as my friend pointed out today
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turian ¡ 4 months ago
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i love achievements as a feature on steam because it's so fun to be able to see what percentage of players of (for example) new vegas, did a thing. and then speculate on why. and compare to the percentage of players who did another ideologically dissimilar thing. and it also lets me know that not many people bothered with busking in bg3.
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1001lobotomies ¡ 6 months ago
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‘no this is definitely a hard launch but you need to have the context of the last 15 years of interactions and how this feels closer to 2009 interactions than it does to anything we’ve seen between then and the last 6 months and we can just TELL okay we can just TELL when they’re acting funny’
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simplykorra ¡ 2 years ago
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sometimes the simple truth of being alive just...moves me
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nikoisme ¡ 11 months ago
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My personal take on Patrochilles is that they are both lovers AND friends. You know how a relationship often starts with a friendship first??? Well they never grew out of the friendship part of their relationship. But their relationship is neither romantic nor platonic. They just,,, are. There was never strictly a time where they stopped being platonic and started being romantic - the lines of the nature of their relationship are really blurry - as they grew older they just started displaying affection in different ways. There was never a need to put a label on their relationship. Because like,, why have Achilles lose just a friend or just a lover - when he could lose a lover, a friend, a best friend, a brother, a comrade, a partner-in-crime ALL in one??? Really drives home the idea of Achilles' grief and rage - he literally lost the man who was everything to him.
Long story short: qpp patrochilles (in a way)
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starry-bi-sky ¡ 1 year ago
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Childhood Friends Au: Danny's in Gotham Again
when the wool is off your eyes you'll stop counting sheep at night cause you'll eat your fill of them during the daytime
A few weeks after Danny’s visit to Gotham, he buys an apartment in the city. It’s this little thing, a studio apartment on the same street he grew up in. In Crime Alley. When he tells his parents, they protest heavily. They don’t think it's safe. They think he should reconsider. There were plenty of apartments and places to live somewhere else. And what about college? 
Danny doesn’t think he’ll go to college. He isn’t sure what he wants to do, now that being an astronaut is off the table. It’d be a waste of money to go without a goal in mind, he thinks. He says he’ll take a gap year and apply at one of the community colleges funded by the Wayne Corporation, possibly. It just wasn’t in the cards right now. 
“If things get tough,” He says at dinner that night, “then I can talk to the Waynes. I’m friends with the family, remember?” He ended up getting Bruce’s number in his phone again before he left, and in the process got Tim’s as well. They don’t talk much, Danny isn’t sure what to say. But he sends Tim memes whenever he comes across one and thinks he’ll like. Tim sends memes back in return.   
His parents do remember. They remember. They also remember the horrified shriek that echoed through the house when Danny learned of Jason’s passing. They remember running up the stairs and bursting into their son’s room and finding him sobbing into his bed, curled up like a little kid, like he was in pain. He lost his voice that day, stuck between screaming out his grief and sobbing it. 
They’re still not sure if they should let him go. 
In the end, Danny wins them out, and he lets them help him search for an apartment. They take a break from their lab work to help search for cheap furniture to buy. They may have more money than when they were in Gotham, but that frugal part of you never fully goes away. They all agree that they don’t want Danny to be seen carrying in nice-looking furniture when he moves in. 
He ends up with a basic furniture set, all mismatched, and in the warm summer of June, his parents rent out a u-haul and drive him down to Gotham to move in. They meet the landlord when they arrive, a skinny and frail old man with wispy white hair and a wrinkled face. He gives Danny the keys and tells him what apartment number he is, and then he leaves. 
His parents help him move in. They help him carry his heavy furniture up to the second floor, where his apartment is. Danny isn’t sure if he wants them to help. His mom and dad are strong, but they are getting old, closer to their fifties now that their children are grown. His dad’s hair is slowly beginning to thin, and rather than the white eating at the sides of his head, it now streaks through his hair like salt-and-pepper. His mom’s hair is graying out too, and there are more lines in their faces than he remembers there being. 
When he voices his concerns, his mom laughs spiritedly and says that they may be getting old, but they are still as spry as when they were in their twenties. Danny isn’t sure if he believes them or not. He can see his dad struggle a bit when they return to get his bed frame, and they have to take a break before they go back down for the rest of their things. 
Five years ago, his dad could do this without breaking a sweat. It forces a heavy thing in the back of Danny’s throat. (He is less afraid of his own death than he is of his loved ones, and while he has always felt rocky with his parents, he still loves them more than anything else.) 
Danny’s apartment is exactly as he would have expected it to be: shabby and worn through. The entire room smells like stale cigarette smoke and weed, nicotine stains the wall with poorly covered bullet holes, and stains in the carpet that are a color he can’t discern. The fridge has a broken light and when he tries to turn on the gas stove, it click-click-clicks before lighting, fire fwooshing out while the smell of gas fills the air. There’s rat droppings in the cupboards and the closet-like bathroom is just as bad. 
The ghostly part of him can sense the heavy stench of death in the room; people have died in this room. People have died in every room of this building, he thinks. They have died on the streets outside and in the alleys squeezed between them. He can feel it like a heavy fog in the air. 
It is painfully nostalgic, a bittersweet feeling in his chest that he grimaces to. 
When the last box is placed in his apartment, his parents offer to help unpack. They are hesitant to leave and Danny knows it, although he doesn’t know if it’s from empty nest syndrome or because it's Gotham. He thinks it might be both. He is their youngest child finally leaving home to a city known for its danger. 
“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay behind, sweetie?” His mother asks, a frown she tries to hide settled in the creases of her face. She fiddles with her hands, a nervous habit Danny has since noticed when she feels truly unsure and doesn’t need to hide it. Hesitancy looms over her like a heavy cloud. 
His dad jumps in hastily, splaying his hands and smiling painfully wide to hide the glistening in his eyes. “You’re mother’s right! We can help you get everything set up, champ. I could probably do something with that stove of yours to make it faster!” He says, his voice still booming like it always does even if there’s a stumble in his words. 
It makes his heart squeeze, knowing just how much they care. It was hard last summer, telling him that he was the Phantom. Terrifying, actually. They couldn’t comprehend it. He hadn’t felt his heart beat that fast in years when he stood in front of them at the kitchen table and told them he was a halfa, begging them to believe that ghosts weren’t inherently evil. 
His parents were people of science, however, and after much, much shock, they slowly came to terms with it. How could they not? The evidence was right in front of them. Their son was dead-alive, alive-dead. Somewhere stuck in the between. The tears they shed that night could fill a river, moving from the kitchen to the living room as Danny explains how he died. 
(When Danny tells them that he died after a week Jason did, his mom and dad look horrified. His mom covers her mouth when he adds that it was his idea to go inside it, his dad looks ashy pale, gripping his pant legs so tight that his knuckles turn white. There is a conclusion coming to their minds that he can tell they don’t like.) 
(“You’ve always hated our inventions, Danny.” Mom says in a hushed voice, and Danny winces at the wording, sinking into the back of the cushions in shame. He never thought that his parents noticed. Mom quickly grabs his arm, “No, no, there’s nothing to be ashamed of Danny. We were… perhaps too careless with our inventions, too enthusiastic. You had every right to hate the things we made when they had a tendency to… to malfunction.”) 
(Malfunction is a delicate way of putting it, when Danny remembers every time they had to evacuate their old apartment complex because whatever half-baked creation his parents made inevitably blew up into ash and smoke. There were soot marks permanently stained into the ceiling.) 
(Her hand slides down and grabs his, and she cups it in both of her hands, squeezing tightly. He forces himself to look up, and there is a look like her heart breaking when he looks into his mother’s eyes. “You’ve always avoided the lab after we moved, Danny. And you had every right to, so why on Earth did you ever think about going into the portal?”)
(Danny struggles to come up with an adequate answer, a way to verbalize what came over him that day five years ago. The answer is there, hanging in the air like a knot in a noose. He opens his mouth, and then closes it.)
(Finally, with a tongue made of lead, he shrugs lamely and looks away. “I didn’t know there was an on button inside it.” He mumbles, and despite being the truth it feels like a lie. But that is the truth. He didn’t know there was an on button inside it. So he didn’t care what happened.)
(Something dulls in mom’s eyes, like she thought of something else that Danny hadn’t said. Her eyes shimmer, and she squeezes them shut, breathing in so deep that it shakes. And then she pulls him into a hug, a hand burying into his hair and pressing him close. “It must have hurt so much, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”)
(It is something that Danny doesn’t expect her to say, like missing the last step of the stairs. It startles him so much he laughs this short, bark of a thing. He feels his dad press against his back and wrap his big arms around them, his nose pushed into his hair.) 
(Because yeah. Yeah, it did hurt. It hurt more than anything else he’s ever felt before. It had torn him apart and sewn him back together again, only to rinse and repeat. The pain was nothing he ever spoke to Sam or Tucker about, and it was something they never brought up. No, that’s not true. If they ever brought it up, Tucker would call it a zap. As if Danny only experienced a mild static shock. Like it was painless. It’s a pretty lie that Danny lets him and Sam believe.)
(His eyes sting and water immediately wobbles into his vision, coming up with such a force that he doesn’t even need to blink before it spills over. “Yeah.” He forces out, voice unexpectedly rough and cracking. “Yeah, it- it hurt. A lot.”)
He tells them about fighting the Lunch Lady a month later. He tells them about finding Jason. It comes spilling out like a waterfall. “I found him, mom.” He says, holding onto her tight while she keeps him tucked under his chin like a little kid. The secret of Jason being Robin stays hidden under his tongue, it is not his secret to tell. Not his identity to expose. He grips her tighter. “I found him, mom. Right there in the Ghost Zone, and he was my Jason. He wasn’t an echo or a— an imprint of him.”
Mom is silent; quiet and attentive, and so is dad, who rubs his large hands up and down Danny’s spine in an attempt to soothe him. It only works a little. Danny breathes in like a gasp as the urge to cry overcomes him again. He always avoids talking about Jason, his grief is like a never-healing scab that can be picked off at any time. It is ingrained into his core. 
“And then I lost him.” He forces out, a sob layering under his words that he chokes on and swallows. The hand on his back stills, and he can feel mom and dad breathe in like a question. He turns his head and pushes it into mom’s shoulder. “He disappeared, mom. Just— just gone.”
“And he didn’t move on.” He says, voice snarling like teeth biting before his mom can ask, because he knows that’s what she was going to ask. It’s what Sam and Tucker asked when he came to them in tears hours after he found Jason gone. It’s what Jazz said when he finally told her about it. It’s what every one of his ghosts asked when he told them about it and begged for their help. 
Danny grits his teeth and tries not to dig his nails into mom’s clothes as a fresh wave of tears run down his face. “His haunt is still there. If Jason really moved on it would have disappeared with him. That’s how it works. But it’s still in the zone, so Jason’s out there I just don’t know where.” 
(Sam once asks him why Danny didn’t just move on from it a year after Jason’s disappearance. She asked him why he didn’t give it up. Danny nearly saw red, and nearly bit her head off for it. It was incomprehensible to him to just stop looking for Jason, to give up. Not when he was out in the zone somewhere. Because he had to be in the zone.)
(Danny once tried to take Jason through the portal with him, and much like what happened to Kitty, it didn’t work. Jason was too tied to the ghost zone to leave.) 
(Some bonds are just unbreakable, he thinks. Bonds forged through blood and time and trust, and when you’re on the streets of Gotham, you hoard what little trust you have in someone like a dragon with its gold. It is scarcely given and fiercely kept.) 
“I’ve been looking for him.” Danny whispers when talking becomes too hard for him, when it runs the risk of him crying. “When- when I’m not fighting ghosts or, or in school or with my friends, I’ve been looking for him.” He has explored the Ghost Zone in every reach he can. He has met so many people. He’s met the ghosts of aliens from planets in every corner of the galaxy. He has met gods or god-like beings and their disciples. 
He’s met famous scholars and writers (he’s gotten the autographs of all of Jason’s favorite writers). He has found entire cities that have so much life in it that it's been permanently etched into the ghost zone, like a mirror version of itself. 
He’s visited the ghostly vision of Gotham so many times, and he avoids the imprint of Wayne Manor like the plague. There are ghostly newspapers that he reads. There are the ghosts of Martha and Thomas Wayne in many of them. 
Jason’s haunt connects to Wayne Manor, but it is also the street they grew up in. It is a small brick building with a door that leads to Jason’s room. A ghost knows when someone enters their haunt, it alerts them like a doorbell in the back of their mind. A foreign ecto-signature in a place drenched in your own. 
Danny visits it every time he goes into the Ghost Zone. It’s always his first stop. 
He tells his parents all of it. He tells them of the ghosts he’s met, of the places he’s seen. And when he feels brave, he tells them about Rath and the terror that his future self brings him. He keeps some details hidden, the ones that he can afford to keep without muddling up the story. 
(Rath is a tall, spindly thing, like a funhouse mirror version of Danny himself. He has arms that are much too long and legs that are much too tall, with skinny fingers that extend into claws.He wears his suit the same as Danny does, with it partially undone and the sleeves wrapped around his waist.)
(There is a black hole in his chest that is much bigger than Danny’s own. It takes up his chest cavity and drips the same, viscous black liquid as the tears falling from his eyes. Danny never forgets his voice; a scraping, quiet thing like he’s screamed himself hoarse. Rath has a voice like goosebumps, and it haunts Danny like a bump in the night.) 
Danny speaks and speaks and speaks until he can’t think of anything else to speak of. He is tired and sad, and it feels like his heart has been ripped out and rubbed raw again. And yet, he also feels so much better. Like a long heavy weight has been taken off his chest. 
Yeah, last summer was hard. His parents walked on eggshells around him, and they forced themselves to unlearn their bias of ghosts. It was more than Danny could have ever dreamed of, and when they felt ready for it, they asked him more about the ghost zone.
He smiles sadly at his dad, “I think fixing the stove can be a priority another time, dad.” He says, watching him wilt and his smile fall. Jack Fenton was always so good at making himself look like a kicked puppy. “I can handle unpacking by myself, I promise.” 
His parents still look so unsure, like they want to argue. Danny watches his mom purse her lips tightly, confliction running across her face like a datastream. She takes dad’s hand, squeezing their fingers together despite the droop in her shoulders. 
“Oh, alright then, I suppose.” She relents, her hand placing on Jack’s arm. “I guess we could go, we’re just going to miss you so much, Danny.” 
Tears seem to have won over his dad, and Jack Fenton sniffs back before he can cry properly. “Our little boy, all grown up.” He says, voice wobbling. It makes Danny laugh, and it makes his heart pang. His smile grows impossibly wider and so much fonder. “You’ve become such a kind, wonderful young man, Danno. We’re so proud of you.” 
Danny laughs again, and it cracks. “You’re gonna make me cry, dad.” (He feels a welling of guilt in his gut that he ignores — he doesn’t feel like a kind man. He doesn’t feel like a good one either. Not with what he plans to do.) 
His father holds out his arms in hopefulness, “One last hug for your old man before we head out?” He asks, mustering up a smile on his face. 
Danny barrels into him, nearly knocking his dad over with an oomph. He’s as tall as him now, but he still feels little in his bear hugs. With arms wrapping around his middle, Danny hugs his father tight and breathes him in one last time. 
“Careful there, Danno.” He laughs, patting Danny’s back roughly. “You’ll break my ribs with that ghostly strength of yours!” But he holds on just as tight.
Out of spite, Danny bends back and lifts him off his feet, laughing when Jack tenses up and nearly scrambles out of surprise. His mom laughs with him, stepping back to give them room for the few seconds that dad is in the air. 
When it’s his mom’s turn, Danny has to hunch to hug her. Something bittersweet to him as she plants a kiss on his forehead and says that he’ll always be her baby. “Even if you do have that horrid smoking habit.” She adds on with a disapproving eyebrow raise. 
Danny turns red in embarrassment, and walks them back to the GAV. Gothamites of all kinds slow to stop and boggle at the monstrous, road-illegal thing that is parallel-parked next to the curbside. In the past, Danny would have died with mortification to be seen with it. Now it just makes him laugh. Before he goes back into the apartment building, he buys a newspaper from a nearby convenience store.  
The first thing he does when he gets back up to his room is one: make a mental note to buy a bicycle chain lock for the door. The locks jiggle and there are splinters along the side that show signs of it being broken into in the past. The second thing he does is pull his cigarettes out of his pocket and light one. 
Danny starts to unpack with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, placing the newspaper he bought onto the counter. He has a cheap loveseat that he pushes off to the side, and he moves the boxes into the kitchen. It’s a matter of organization that Danny has to think about before he does anything. 
It’s as he’s pushing the sofa up against the wall facing the windows that his phone rings a familiar tune: Sam. The phone is fished out before he can think about it and when he stares down at the screen, he realizes it's a facetime call. 
He presses answer and walks over to prop his phone up onto the counter. The smiling faces of Sam and Tucker greet him, rather than just Sam. Immediately, Danny grins. “Hey Danny.” Sam greets, smiling a dark-painted lazy thing. From the background it looks like they’re in Tucker’s room. Sam is in Tucker’s desk chair, and Tucker is behind her, leaning against it. “Have you moved in yet?” 
Danny pulls the cigarette from his mouth and huffs, a cloud of smoke following his breath. “Yeah! It’s a shithole.” He grins lopsidedly, and his feet carry him off to the side to allow Sam and Tucker view of his apartment. He lets thirty seconds pass, allowing the both of them to really see the rest of the room. And then he steps back into frame. 
Sam and Tucker both look like they’re trying not to look judgemental, like they’re trying to hide a grimace that Danny sees anyway with the small turns at the corner of their mouths. He grins wider, mirth filling his lungs. “I know, it looks awful doesn’t it?”
“It’s— it’s not so bad.” Sam says with a strain in her voice, a forced smile on her face that tries to be reassuring. Tucker nods along readily, and he looks just as unsure as Sam does. Danny stifles laughter behind his teeth. 
“No, no, it looks bad,” He takes a drag of his cigarette, shaking his head. “You can say it, I won’t get offended. It’s a fucking apartment in crime alley. Of course it looks bad.” 
Sam remains silent, a rearing of her stubbornness showing itself. Tucker takes a different approach, and heaves a dramatic sigh of relief, slumping like a weight. “Okay, you’re right. It looks bad.” He frowns, “Sorry, man.” 
While Danny snorts, Sam sighs. “Yeah, it looks bad. What even are those stains?” She asks, and both she and Tucker lean closer in tandem to the screen, eyes squinting at the floor behind him. Danny glances at the floor, and shrugs. 
“Blood, probably.” He says, and while years in Amity Park have accustomed him to a clean environment, the desensitization of Gotham still remains. Tucker and Sam both make faces and lean away, as if the stain itself was capable of passing through to them. “Yeah, there are bullet holes in the walls.” 
“Are you sure it’s safe to be there?” Tucker asks, a furrow appearing between his brows. He adjusts his glasses and leans against the chair. Sam is frowning heavily, and Danny can already see her thinking up of a new way to fix the problem. 
“Oh, I never said this place was safe.” Danny tells him cheerily, taking a last hit of his cigarette before placing the dead stick onto the counter. He itches for another one. Instead he walks over to the shelf his parents brought in and starts moving it. “It’s Crime Alley, Tuck. Safe isn’t even in its vocabulary.” 
Tucker and Sam look like they’ve both swallowed a lemon.
“But it’s where I want to be right now.” He says, grunting quietly when the shelf is against the wall he wants it to be, near the short hallway leading to the front door. He can push it in front of it if someone tries to break in. “And Crime Alley’s apartments are the only ones I can really afford right now without mooching off my parents, and I’d rather not depend on them.” 
He can hear the disapproving hesitance from where he stands. And he ignores it. 
Danny walks back into frame, lifting up a box onto the counter. He hums lightly, fingers run over the tape keeping it shut. “Why do you even want to be in Gotham, Danny?” Sam asks, and she sounds genuinely perplexed. Danny stills. “I thought this place only had bad memories for you.” 
His blood turns cold, and like a dime being flipped his slow heartbeat fills his ears. “It does.” He replies automatically, before he can think. Shit, shit. He knows that Sam or Tucker would ask that question, and yet he still feels unprepared for it. His heart pulses quickly against his ribcage, knocking, asking him what he’s going to tell them that isn’t the truth. 
Danny stammers, “I mean— I just— I guess I felt nostalgic.” He says, and it sounds like a weak defense. He looks away, finding himself instinctively scratching his jaw. A new tick of his when he’s nervous. From the corner of his eye, he sees Sam and Tucker both narrow their eyes at him. 
He cannot tell them the real reason why he’s moved back to Gotham. He can’t tell them of the little secret and vow he told himself five years ago, the one that’s been left to fester and burn like an open wound close to his core. The one that, if he thinks too much about it, sends a searing hot electricity through him, filling him from crown to toe top-full of direst wrath.  
(Danny was always the angrier one in the duo of Jason and Danny. He was always the one with glass in his mouth, cutting his teeth and tongue so that he could spit blood at the world around them. His knuckles had more blood and bruises on it than skin, once upon a time. All because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He has grown from it, that fury has turned to a small simmering candle.) (But sometimes, sometimes it rears its head, and electricity will buzz under Danny’s skin. There is lightning before the thunder, the second before a fist pulled to punch lands, the spark before it becomes a blaze.) 
He stumbles over his words, and then sighs long and low, drooping his head. “I… was thinking that I can’t avoid this place forever.” He says, and the best lies always have the truth in it. Because it’s not a lie, not completely. But it’s not close enough to the truth either. “And that maybe if I came back, I’d be able to do something about those bad memories. Make them better or make it hurt less.” 
Like wool over their eyes, it fools Sam and Tucker. Their narrowed eyes soften, and Danny feels like a snake is in his lungs as they both adopt their own versions of gentleness on their faces. “Oh, Danny.” Sam breathes out, and the snake squeezes, “Of course, we understand.”
Tucker nods, smiling at him. “Yeah, bro, that’s really brave of you. I know it can’t be easy coming back.” He says, “Maybe you can reconnect with the Waynes again, you always thought well of Mister Wayne whenever you came back from visiting.”
Danny smiles weakly, the gesture cutting into his cheeks like a knife. Perhaps he could. He was still upset with Bruce for hiding Jason’s killer from him. But he doesn’t hate him. Maybe five years ago, he did, when the death of Jason was still fresh in his mind and freshly bleeding in his heart. Now he just doesn’t know what to think of him. He was Batman. Jason was Robin, and the Joker killed Robin. 
It would need to be something he’d have to speak to Bruce about in person, he thinks, in order to resolve it. To hear his judgment on it and make an opinion from there. Danny has learned in the last five years, much to Jazz’s smug delight, that talking to people about something he was upset about did make him feel better. 
The conversation slips on from there into something more light, more breathable. And while they talk, Danny unpacks. He sets up his bed in the corner of the room, adjacent to the windows, and unpacks his cheap TV and table stand. It’s directly across from the couch, in front of the windows. He puts up knicks and knacks he’s collected over the years on the shelves.
When he puts up the curtains, he notices that more than one frame jiggles loosely. Sam makes a comment on the musty stains permanently dyed into the glass, and Danny talks about getting something to fix the cracks. Gotham winters can get brutal, and even if he can withstand the cold, doesn’t mean everything else in his apartment can. 
“Oh, watch this.” He says halfway through unpacking, and pulls out a stick of thick white chalk from a box. “This is something I learned from Clockwork a while back; I think he knew I was going to move to Gotham.” He grins sillily, popping into the camera frame to show them. “I wonder how?” 
Sam rolls her eyes, smiling while Tucker huffs. “It’s not like he’s the Master of Time and can see all past, present, and future.” Tucker snarks. 
Danny hums lightly, curt like he isn’t sure he believes Tucker, and walks to a piece of bare wall not yet blocked by furniture. He starts to draw on it. The chalk shimmers with faint ectoplasm on the wall. 
“Uhh…” Tucker’s voice cuts through, “Are you sure you should be doing that? Won’t you get in trouble for that?”
“There are bullet holes in the plaster, Tucker.” Danny retorts dryly, arching his hand to make a big circle. “I don’t think the landlord is gonna care if I get washable chalk on his walls.” Inside the circle, he inscribes the symbols of the Infinite Realms. “I don’t think he’d be able to see it anyways, he was really old.” 
When he is done, Danny steps back to admire his work. It’s not bad, he thinks, for a lack of practice. He tosses the chalk off to the side, it lands on the couch and rolls back into the cushions. Ectoplasm heats under his hand, slowly glowing from his fingertips before stretching down the rest of his palm. 
Danny’s fingers press against the wall, into the center of the circle. The result is immediate, ectoplasm is siphoned off his hand and into the circle. It glows, and then swirls. He steps off to the side for Sam and Tucker to watch its transformation. The circle fills with a swirling pool of ectoplasm, like a smaller version of the basement portal, and then it warps and stretches. 
It fills out a rectangular shape, shifting like taffy being pulled this way and that, before settling into a solid shape. It solidifies, and instead of a wall there is a glowing purple door, warped in nature and seemingly shifting like a trick of the eyes. He can hear the gentle hum of the zone standing next to it, and can see the carving of the circle in the wood. 
He gestures dramatically, grinning from ear to ear. “Ta-da~” He sings, “A door to my haunt! For whenever I feel like visiting it.” He pats the wood, making a strange thunk-thunk sound. “And then watch this.” 
Danny touches the circle again, and the door twists and recedes like water going down a drain. The circle flashes bright green, and then fades into nothing on the wall, invisible to the naked eye. “I can hide it whenever I want! So if I ever invite someone over—” which he doubts, “—I won’t have to worry about them asking, ‘Hey Danny? Why is there a creepy fucking door in your studio apartment?’”
He gets a pair of laughs for his efforts, and Danny grins wider. 
Sam and Tucker have to end the call when Danny is nearly done unpacking, leaving him alone with only his thoughts and the Gotham ambience outside. There were only a few boxes left, and they promise to call him tomorrow. He tells them that they better keep that promise. 
The silence that follows after they leave feels somberly, as if the reality of moving in has finally set in and filled the air with its loneliness. With its change. Finally, Danny lets the strangeness of moving back to Gotham hit him when he reaches the last box, and he stops to take another smoke break to let it settle. 
It feels so strange to be back in Gotham, he thinks. He’s all grown up, or almost grown up. He can vote and pay taxes, but he doesn’t feel much older than he was at fourteen. There’s a disconnect that makes him feel sad. 
There are cars running outside, driving by. He can only catch glimpses of them, his apartment faces an alleyway. There are dogs barking in the distance, strays he bets. It’s already dark out, and he wonders if he looks out the window he would see the bat-signal shining through the night and staining the permanent cloud that hangs over Gotham. 
Bruce would be so disappointed if he learned the reason for Danny’s return to Gotham. But Danny’s not here for him. He’s here for someone far more important. And like that, the simmering anger that has tucked itself into the furthest corners of his heart starts slipping through. His heart has teeth, ready to strike and snarl and bite. 
He crushes the cigarette in his hand and throws it away. When he opens the last box, it is with hands that tremble and with a face of stone. With a delicateness he does not feel, he reaches in and pulls a corkboard from the box. On the corner frame is a small, near inconspicuous carving of another ghost rune. 
Danny hangs it up on an empty space on the wall, out of sight from the window. It’s plain, and he has nothing to pin to it. He presses the small rune on the corner, pushing ectoplasm into it. Unlike the door, it does not twist and warp and shape itself into something new. Instead it bursts into green flame, eating away at the board and revealing the same thing underneath it, just in dark blue-black-purple. 
Now this board, this board Danny has something to pin to it. The newspaper he bought earlier sits abandoned on the counter, and Danny unrolls it with something like viciousness in his chest. On the front page is an image of a damaged street, and above it is titled: “JOKER STRIKES AGAIN, 3 DEAD AND 27 INJURED”
Danny rips out the first page, he rips out every mention of him. His hands shake and threaten to crumple the paper as he turns back to the board, there is hot blood pounding in his ears. There is an impending sense of finally in his chest, like a setting sun giving the stage to a starless night. There is a stern set in his jaw, five years of festering rage rushing forth like a tidal wave, threatening to make his vision swim. 
It would be so easy, he thinks, to go out as Phantom right now and hunt the clown down. It would only take a night. All it would take is a night, and then he could sink his hands into the Joker’s chest and rip out his heart where he stood. It would be so easy. 
The thought alone forces Danny to stop as he is hit with another rush of fury, really making his head and vision swim. Thorny vines wrap around his throat, making it hard to breathe. He stares at a spot on the wall until the shaking passes. 
If he wants to be discreet about this, then he can’t do it now. Even if he wants to. He doesn’t want witnesses. He doesn’t want an audience. He made a mistake, telling Red Hood about his plan. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking at all. But he can only hope that the Hood hasn’t mentioned it to Bruce. He knows it hasn’t been long since they started working together. He hopes that the Hood has already forgotten about it. 
He pins the newspaper clippings onto the black-blue-board, and stands back. It’s bare now, but it won’t be forever. 
He presses the circle again, and the pinboard reverts back to its original blank state. 
-----
Was I expecting to make a third part?? No. No I was not. I was also not expecting to make an entire google doc filled with summaries for short story ideas about this au that all tie into each other so that way if i DO continue this i have a skeleton pathway to follow rather than making everything up from scratch and potentially cornering myself
you can find this on ao3 or on tumblr 1 2 :)
#dp x dc#dpxdc#dp x dc crossover#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dpxdc crossover#childhood friends au#cw swearing#cw smoking#im calling them short stories bc if i call them chapters i might intimidate myself#fun fact every single chapter will have a crane wives lyric on it i am DETERMINED#i hope yall are subscribed to this on ao3 bc i almost didnt post this on tumblr#the fentons being good parents were a surprise to me too but also i never really planned on them being BAD parents#okay so they appear as negligent in the first post but we'll just call that a plothole#i had the idea that danny was the angrier one out of the duo earlier today and it felt like an epiphany#there's no guarantee of a next part but yk immm kinda hoping there is#on the docs the ending bullet point for this chapter was#'make it feel like a tv show where the seemingly inconspicuous and friendly character has something sinister up their sleeve'#WE know that danny's not inconspicuous in the least he's been thinking of this murder for the last five years. but nobody but red hood know#i had to come up with a in-story reason why danny doesnt kill the joker NOW but my out-of-story excuse is: there'd be no tension otherwise#its about the BUILD UP. Its about the RISING TENSION. Its about KNOWING that danny is planning to kill the Joker but you dont know WHEN#its about knowing that something is going to explode but never knowing when#i made the doc yesterday and spent my entire pluralism for educators class going thru the crane wives albums and looking up the lyrics and#matching them to the *checks doc* 18 short story prompts i have prepared#i am still missing one :((#its the tim and danny story and i have NOTHING PLANNED FOR THEM. i cant think of a thing for them to bond over :(( so i cant match a CW son#even DICK has a story and that was also a surprise#my favorite lines: He was always the one with glass in his mouth cutting his teeth and tongue so that he could spit blood at the world#aND danny slapping his door like a used car salesman and going 'now people wont ask why i have a creepy fucking door in my studio aptm :)'
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hana-bobo-finch ¡ 9 days ago
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Shoutout to this draft I made a couple hours ago when I suddenly had an epiphany for how I could fix a part of my story and I was so excited that the only way I could express it is to write whatever this is but I couldn’t post it because I didn’t have internet
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also it got marked as mature for some reason
#mood honestly#OHHH OHH. WA#there is pure happiness behind those words#I don’t know if I’ll keep the idea that I came up with but it’s so much better than what I had before#ties up loose ends while also keeping it vague like I wanted mmmm#and the ending isn’t super depressing now!!! sort of!!!#it is Not final so I won’t yap about it just yet but#I think I might be able to give gourdie a somewhat happy ending….that is all I wanted…..yes…..#cause like damn at first she was just miserable by the end with no happiness in sight. which didn’t really match the rest of the story#cause it’s more so lighthearted even when there’s like. death and stuff#like. bad shit happens but it’s not an emotionally charged angsty story#if people do find it sad despite the jokey tone then all the better because that means I can have my cake and eat it too#but my point is simply that Gourdie’s ending did NOT match up with anything else#she was just left completely depressed by the end#BUT I CAN FIX IT. I THINK. STILL WORKINH IT OUT IN MY MIND#TRYING TO MAKE SURE IT WOULDNT RETCON ANYTHING PREVIOUSLY ESTABLISHED#perhaps it makes the ending a bit less impactful but who tf thinks I’m going for impact!!!#gourdie gets to mysteriously disappear too. as a treat.#and it also plugs that plot hole…yes….good…..#I’m just rambling at this point hey guys how ya doin#pdbc#not a pikmin post#more pdbc posts are coming cause I spent like 4 hours today writing#by that I mean like. 4 hours of just trying to fix the ending. but I kinda did it soooo#point is I rarely have scripts for certain sections and I now have a script for a sliver of a section so that’s a win#this is a huge wall of text uhhhh#I’ve been yapping about pdbc an unhealthy amount lately and I’ll never stop#my friend wants to know the lore as well so I’ll have to find a way to explain it all to her#< it’ll be easier for her to understand actually cause of reasons#anyway I’ll shut up now bye bye
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volitioncheck ¡ 9 months ago
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i think i wouldn’t hate disco elysium’s collage mode nearly as much if it weren’t for 1) the way that it was marketed in such a tasteless, soulless manner, let alone the fact that it was a last ditch distraction from a dead on its feet studio piloted by dumbass thieving execs and released on the day of the court declaration, and 2) those dumbass fucking stickers
like if it had been included with the base game from the start and had been titled something a bit more tasteful and in-line with how i would have liked the feature to be marketed as— something like “exploration mode”, something that perhaps could only be unlocked after completing the game for the first time, AND didn’t have those stupid as hell visually and tonally incongruent with the artstyle stickers, i would have applauded it as a nice little bonus for being able to study and appreciate the 3d models and environments for reference.
#it is just so bleak man.#i have no words left to say for the latest development at zaum studios so instead i will just remember how fucked up this was lol#those stickers are the same energy as that dumbass fucking christmas card they put on steam.#cutesy fanart is awesome and all but don’t muddy the tone of the actual source with it. why is that necessary.#for gods sake what happened to boundaries#again i probably would take a different tone to even the stickers if#it had been done under the original creators (which i don’t think it would have‚ which is my point‚ but say hypothetically it happened)#but with the circumstances the way they are it is impossible to not view it all as tainted with a veneer of absolute tastelessness#and a disrespect to the source material and a sorry attempt to appeal to the shallowest parts of ‘fandom’#like you can add cartoony emoji faces and a sticker with harry and kim as cats. or their hands with the caption ‘best friends!!!’ (wtf lol)#and a frame with a bunch of pride flags being waved around (hard to articulate why i feel doubly annoyed of this one.#your corporate pride parade aesthetic is showing again. also it feels… lazy)#but you can never‚ ever erase the fact that you are parading around a stolen IP that you are entirely out of touch with#and one that you clearly have *no idea what to do with*#(something that we’ve all known for months with these hints but today has finally been basically confirmed as the sequel seems to be#officially cancelled with the last of the original writers’ crew being laid off)#how could you have known what to do with Elysium? how could you ever have?#hope you have fun with your stickers. rot#disco elysium#me talking
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mewniemoon ¡ 1 month ago
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Thanks for all the Scugs
I know ive already made a post similar this but I, like many people, no longer feel safe in this community. Over the past year ive seen it turn into a welcoming place born from creativity and passion to a sea of hatred and hostility to a level ive never seen before. I was in the warrior cats fandom and that community was more loving than this one, and its just gotten worse.
Its hard to play a game I used to love when I watch people being harassed over stupid lore opinions, or shipping, or whether or not someone should be publicly shamed over petty drama. Its hard to browse through an artists work knowing many of the artists I love left due to horrible entitlement from they're followers. Its hard to create and post art knowing others could be praying for my downfall simply because they don't like me.
And I can't continue on in this fandom if that's the road its headed on. Its just to much of a strain me, and I know its a strain on many others. I appreciate those taking responsibility for spreading information, but the damage has already been done, and no one seems to care.
I'm still debating on whether or not I'll be leaving the Rain World fandom permanently, as its still a game I deeply love, but I'll def be taking a break from it until everything calms down and ya'll learn to be nicer. And i'll probably be taking a small few day break from tumblr as well, at least for this blog. I know ive already been distance since May, but others speaking out have inspired me to not leave silently, and I appreciate them.
TDLR: Rainworld fandom sucks. No one cares. Leaving for a lil bit till shit calms. Be kind everyscug <3
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ufibar ¡ 3 months ago
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Doodles cause. Binge read to extend our reach to the stars above today and OH MY GOD I love it sm had to try to. Do some of the siffrin design doodles but I am SO bad at drawing armor so urh drops this and leaves
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catkin-morgs-kookaburralover ¡ 6 months ago
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questioning sexuality is so exhausting
#(edit: sorry for the rant in the tags and i just. i want someone to talk to me)#i keep on doing it for no apparent reason#someone was talking about lust yesterday and i realised today that.#even tho id thought i don't experience it. i possibly do. but exclusively towards women.#i hate it here!#for a multitude of reasons i will never have a relationship with a woman but! i may be incapable of having a relationship with a man!#at some point in the last few months i have abruptly pivoted from definitely wanting marriage and kids to being ambivalent on marriage#and not wanting kids. that's such an outlier in my life that it might just be a mental health thing tho idk#but at the same time i. want to be loved.#i don't know what i want anymore and im tired of questioning myself#i definitely overthink it but idk how to stop it#and i hate hate hate how the moral obsessions have bee lately#this isn't entirely related but it kind of is#like Am i a terrible morally bankrupt person for having certain thoughts or is it just religious ocd go brrrr?? am i overthinking it?#i don't know. i don't know!#for a while labelling myself as arospec ace kinda calmed that down but. i don't know#i do't want to be attracted to women. i don't want to have to look away so often. i don't want any of that.#but i don't know how to stop it.#i don't even know if i'm attracted to men at all.#this is a cry for help and encouragement and prayers no matter what your views on these matters are#queer stuff tag#i nearly fessed up to my friend yesterday about same sex attraction and i might've except that it would have probably outed me as#the person who anonymously sent in a question several months ago about the side b movement to a church thing#ive only told one person at church about any of that sort of stuff and it was very vaguely worded#also see: this friend is the mother of the boy i?? i don't even know how i feel about him#i increasingly think it wasn't romantic at all. but i don't know#i would love any encouragement you got. anything at all.#i don't know how much this stuff is affected by the fact that i consider myself unloveable and think it highly unlikely any boy will ever#care for me#now im rambling. sorry
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puppyeared ¡ 4 months ago
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eepiest little man in the building
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chappellrroan ¡ 3 months ago
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i've had a guy say to my face that he does not support lgtbqia+ because his idol is cristiano ronaldo. i can't make this shit up dawg the fuck.
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moeblob ¡ 5 months ago
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I'm on an OC kick and also super indecisive so I spun a wheel (thank you for choosing for me, RNG).
Ricardo is a body guard and is bffs with Marlo. Ricardo's current job is watching after a celebrity's daughter who the public doesn't know even exists. She's just a teenage girl vibing with her mom and getting texts and calls from her dad (who loves her a whole lot and keeps her out of the spotlight very purposefully) and has this bodyguard and his weird friend. Marlo is just vibing with his best friend.
(Also Marlo would absolutely laugh if he heard Ricardo say "someone called me eye candy and it wasn't you and now I think you should call me that")
#my characters#i have an ask in my inbox that has me obsessively thinking about drawing fanart#but i just dont have the energy for what i want to draw for it#its been a rough day guys im dying (allergies and lacking sleep)#(why are allergies so bad today i ask after shoving my face into a cat while knowing im allergic to cats)#there are some prices i will always suffer and pay in life and the cat allergy is one of them you cant keep me away from a cat#im shoving my face in their fur and you CANT STOP ME FROM IT and also they kept bothering me#anyway i got to bed at like 6am after a lot of zoomies and restless legs and then#woke up with both cats in the guest bed with me and man i will not know peace for a few days#worth it tho bc i love them and i will take suffering if it means cattention#i dont really have much to say about the ocs tbh theyre just buddies being guys and then theres a teenage girl sometimes#and people suspect ricardo is her dad and she cant really say no my dads (celebrity) since thats the entire point of rico#so she makes sure its not troublesome for him to have people assume things like that and hes just#idc im in love with my best friend and hes not giving me any kids so not like anyone will start drama if im not with your mom#but he is also ! friends with the celebrity and his wife so he does just go on Family Outings with the wife and daughter#and sometimes marlo because the wife knows of him and invites him sometimes but she treats#rico and marlo like sons instead which is a bit weird to the daughter but she likes her weird fake brothers slash dad and question mark#marlo dyes his hair pink if that matters and has been doing so for a v long time
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shuckstruck ¡ 3 days ago
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today mostly sucked but i am reminded that i have ppl who love me and things im excited for in the future. and i kno things will be okay.
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fakeoutbf ¡ 6 months ago
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five stages of grief but it’s five stages of social anxiety
#walk with me#this morning i got a bouquet delivered to me at work randomly out of nowhere#the note basically said that i could count of the person even if for just some words of advice or a gesture that could make me laugh or mad#count on the person**#i immediately knew it’s from one of my coworkers and ngl i have a very charged?? relationship with them#in the sense that it’s very intense and we can be laughing joking and teasing or we can be really angry and pissed with each other#it can have very extreme emotions even if we just chill most of the time#idk why i think this whole year i’ve been leaning on them more?? and we started texting more often too#so we’ve been more properly friends lately#and for one i was SO EMBARRASSED for getting flowers bc my coworkers tease the shit out of everyone myself included and i’m not used to#gestures like that so obviously they were on my ass all day about it#and everyone asked about them and it’s EMBARRASSING to get that much attention#(me: i wanna be a singer / also me: can’t stand to be the center of attention)#anyway the person that sent them avoided me yesterday out of nowhere??? idk if they thought i was mad bc i didn’t reply to their texts all#weekend but i literally never reply to anyone and pms was a bitch and i just wanted to be alone#so they didn’t talk to me on monday i was mostly just working listening to music bc i was still emotional whatever#and today i did talk to my other coworkers bc it’s the day when my favorite coworker comes in and i talk to them a lot so i engaged more#and they were still ignoring me and then the flowers came in and we didn’t say a single word to each other today we just texted#they told me they sent them and that ‘they forgot’ what they sent and that it was just meant to be a nice gesture#and that bc they wanted to ‘surprise’ me and make me feel better bc i said i was sad at one point?? idek#i literally just want to tell them I HAD PMS ITS FINE I FEEL SUICIDAL ALL THE TIME and move on#bc now i’m second guessing everything they’re saying bc i thought we were friends and there’s no reason why friends can’t send each other#flowers or whatever but they’ve been avoiding me and then they keep answering my texts really weirdly and i always misinterpret flirting bc#i’m never outright romantic with anyone?? plus we’re FRIENDS i should have no reason to think that’s changed#but they’re being so weird and why get me FLOWERS??? idk get me a chocolate or a coffee i don’t NEED flowers#and then i said it was random to give me flowers out of nowhere and they’re like no it’s serious bro what’s serious??????#your feelings towards me?? or just your will to cheer me up???#if they don’t reply straight up in their next texts i’m gonna flat out say but it was a platonic gesture right???#so yeah i’m overthink getting flowers bc what’s the social code for that and what is one supposed to do when they get flowers from a friend#delivered to their joint workplace where everyone can see them and think they’re from a partner or something
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embarasseddragon234 ¡ 1 year ago
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U can't stop me: Texting Edition
Part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13
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