#i just decided that have fun

[little-pondhead]

Eyes Of The Past - OLD CH. 1

Part 2

[TW: swearing, mentions of death, sickness, and general spookiness.]

...

Danny was used to seeing the dead. He was one of them, actually. People have been dying for thousands of years and will continue to die for thousands more. Hearing the whispers of people who should have passed on was nothing unusual, even if it gave him an uncomfortable sense of wrongness.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t like Gotham City.

Don’t get him wrong! Gotham was a lovely place to live; if you were psychotic. But the gothic architecture that never seemed to crumble, the visible smog that settled over the skies like a thick blanket, and the acidic aftertaste the water had were just enough to make Danny uncomfortable as he trekked through the streets. It had just rained, and the random sounds of water dripping off buildings made him flinch. Puddles kept reflecting the surroundings unusually. The smell of wet asphalt was heavy in the air, nothing like the freshness of Amity’s rain.

He felt itchy and weird in his skin, like something was trying to burn it off. It was just past three am, and Danny had just gotten off his split shift at some high-end nightclub. The Iceberg Lounge, or something like that. He’d gotten a job as a busboy since he was too young to work as a bouncer or bartender. Honestly, he was lucky they let him have a job at all. He took every shift he could, sometimes going over the legal limit of what a minor was allowed to work.

His boss allowed it, however. On a few conditions.

Listen in on the customers and report anything interesting to management. Danny was tiny, way too small for his age of sixteen. But he was great at making himself unnoticeable, which allowed him to keep his ears open for exciting deals and whatnot that were going around. He didn’t feel good about the work, but it kept food on the table. So far, the worst he’s reported was a plan to move against Red Hood and his gang. It wasn't ideal, but Danny could put up with the prying eyes and greedy hands so long as he got paid on time.

Oh, but the dead? They were so much worse.

The dead always noticed him. And they always talked to him. He could barely think straight with all the ghouls, specters, shades, and other souls that always clamored for his attention. Gotham’s dark atmosphere bred hundreds of angry souls who refused to move on until their business was finished. But without a steady source of ectoplasm or a natural portal, most of them stayed as shadows of their former selves. They stuck to the city's underbelly, brewing in anger and making the town sicker than it already was. Some of them, the stronger ones with a real bone to pick, chose to haunt the living, clinging to a person’s back and leeching off their life energy. Those were the ones Danny had to deal with the most in Gotham.

It was horrible. Everything was just so sad and angry! The city had a lot of fucked-up people living here, and the worst of them had so many shades sticking to them. They all wanted something. It made Danny feel like he was always having an allergy attack. The city just messed his senses up in the worst way possible. Danny would gladly be living anywhere else if it wasn’t for his need to hide and survive.

Kill them. Danny shivered as he turned a corner, and a shadow reached out to stick to his shoulder, whispering filthy words into his ear. Kill them for me. He brushed the spirit off, ignoring their hiss. His back ached, and his head throbbed. Danny just wanted to climb into the shit hole he called home and fall asleep on the thin futon he’d shoved into a corner.

So he did.

Danny climbed the rickety fire escape up to his apartment as quietly as possible (the main staircase was out of order) and shimmied himself through the broken window that never opened all the way. His backpack was stored under his futon, in the floorboards, and he collapsed without changing his clothes.

Maybe tomorrow’s shift will be better. He thought, closing his eyes.

…

It was not better. His next shift was as shitty as all the others.

“Take this to the east balcony on the second floor.” Danny’s supervisor for the night, Tamia, shoved a heavy tray laden with beer bottles and fancy cocktails into his hands, pointing vaguely to the staircase he’d have to use. It was only thanks to Danny’s ghost strength that he didn’t collapse under the weight.

“Isn’t that where the boss is?” He asked, squinting past the bright lights, barely making out the short outline of Oswald Cobblepot as he talked up some rough-looking characters.

Tamia nodded, distracted. She was already back to whipping up complicated drinks and barking orders at the other servers. “Yeah, so don’t fuck this up. In and out, ya hear?”

“Got it, Tam.”

She waved him off, and he began the rough journey to the second floor, skirting around the edges of the packed tables, avoiding the odd penguin, and taking careful steps up the staircase, floating just barely above the floor to make sure he didn’t slip. Guests and other workers ignored him, but their shades reached out, caressing him in a way that made him want to squirm. He couldn’t shake them off, not while he was carrying the tray.

She killed me, one whispered as a lady dressed in diamonds passed.

I was drugged, said another when a burly older man walked by.

Danny pressed close to the walls as a group meandered on by. My teddy bear! A little girl’s voice cried out, and he couldn’t tell which of the group it was coming from. He took my teddy bear! I want it back!

I can’t help you, he thought viciously, trying to charge the air around him with hostility. It was difficult. The humans would pick up on it if he harshed the vibes too much. Too little, and the shades would ignore it. A nearby penguin squawked in alarm, but the spirits backed off, so he counted it as a win.

Finally, he reached the east balcony. The thick curtains were closed, but his sharp hearing still caught a few words through the club's noise. Something about the gang war Red Hood had prevented (the one Danny had reported on.)

But it wasn’t his job to worry about that. He wasn’t a hero anymore. Instead, Danny politely knocked on a pillar holding the curtains up, waiting to be let in.

The conversation quieted. “Who is it?” asked his boss.

“Drinks, sir,” Danny replied simply. The curtain was let open, and by the Ancients, Danny wished he’d never taken this job.

The balcony was brimming with the dead. It reeked with the heavy stench of death.

He suppressed a cough, clamping his mouth shut as he passed out drinks. His hostile aura was drowned out by the sheer amount of spirits clamoring at each other, practically at each other’s ghostly throats. Some of them had real definition to their features, telling Danny that this was not a group to be messed with. One of the spirits was on the verge of gaining its own consciousness, dripping a familiar green Danny had come to associate with his rouges. The spirit's burning eyes turned to him, and Danny was overwhelmed with the scent of rot rolling off it. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

He started to pass out drinks, suppressing the urge to shiver as hands gripped at his face, his clothes, his arms, his everything. The shades had noticed him. They clamored around him, filling his head with white noise. It was horrible.

Mr. Cobblepot eyed the boy, noticing how his newest employee had tensed up and gone noticeably paler in the presence of his guests.

The kid had practically folded in on himself as another aide swept aside the curtains. His hands trembled just barely, and he refused to meet anyone’s eyes straight on, instead looking past their ear or at their foreheads. He also noticed how Red Hood, sitting directly to his right, had gone stiff when the kid entered the room. The crime lord wasn’t showing his face, but he could still see how Hood tracked Danny’s movements like a hawk, tensed like he was about to leap out of his chair and assault the kid. Danny, for his part, had clamped his mouth shut and did his duties diligently and quickly, seemingly not noticing Red Hood’s attention on him.

Everyone began murmuring again, continuing their conversations now that they had booze to loosen their tongues. Mr. Cobblepot took a tentative sip of his fancy cocktail, non-alcoholic, of course. He couldn’t have his thoughts inhibited while in the middle of a business deal.

The kid was in and out like a ghost, barely making a sound as he slipped past the curtains once more, tray clutched to his chest.

“Who was that?” Red Hood finally tore his attention away from the kid’s retreating back and turned to the host of the evening.

Mr. Cobblepot waved him off. “A new hire. Don’t worry. All the paperwork is in order; he’s not here illegally.” Lies slipped off his tongue like honey, and luckily, Red Hood was too distracted to notice. “Now, let’s get back to business, shall we?”

Danny practically ran down the stairs and back into the kitchens. He barely had time to shove his empty tray into Tamia’s hands before he slammed the back doors open and heaved the contents of his stomach out next to a dumpster.

Ancients, that was horrific. Danny knelt there for a few moments, dry heaving some more until his stomach was well and truly empty. Acid burned the back of his throat.

“Holy shit Danny! What happened?” Thin hands clamped down on his shoulders, making him flinch. The touch softened, and they started rubbing circles on his back instead. It was Tamia, no doubt having run after him when she saw his pale face.

Danny shuddered and shook his head. “Sorry.” He gasped. “I think-I think I’m allergic to something they were wearing.”

“Fuck.” Tamia cursed softly. “If I get you a drink, will that settle your stomach?”

“Probably, yeah.”

His (totally awesome, reminded him of Jazz) supervisor stood up decisively. “Then I’m getting you some water.” She told him. Two wispy shades curled around her neck, chittering at him with anxiety. “Sit out here and take some deep breaths. We’re short-staffed tonight, so I’ll send Mia to the balconies instead. We can’t afford to send you home.”

“And I can’t afford to miss a shift.” He joked. His heart wasn't in it.

Tamia turned and opened the back door. “Well, if you’re already cracking jokes, you’ll be back to waiting tables in no time~” She cackled over her shoulder.

Danny smiled at her retreating back. Tamia was a nice person, and he didn’t meet many of those these days. She was tall, with dark skin and a wit to match Nightwing’s. He’s sure she was only looking out for him because he reminded her of her two younger siblings, dead from a house fire a few years ago. (If he had to hazard a guess, the two shades that clung to her with such desperation were what was left of those very siblings.) It was fine. He’d take any pity he could get.

Coughing slightly, Danny leaned back on his heels and looked up, trying to see past Gotham’s cloud cover. Instead of stars, he saw two white eyes narrow at him from the top of the building. A dark mass writhed above the eyes, making the figure they belonged to blend in with the background. Danny yelped in surprise and fell on his butt. When he looked up again, the eyes were gone.

Well, shit.

Danny scrambled to his feet and tore open the back door, almost running into Tamia, who had a bottle of water in her hands. “Tam!” He blurted. “Get the boss! The Bat is here!”

...

[Pretty short cause I gotta skedaddle off to work. This is a planned fic that will be pretty short, and I'll link the next part below at a later date. Hope you enjoyed it!]

[miscellaneousrenaissant]

[apollos-olives]

before october 7th this blog was a meme page btw.

[hinamie]

spiraling

[bigfatbreak]

Birds of a Feather previous / next

[bixels]

In the past, people in the Animal Crossing community would make fun of Tom Nook as a sleazy landlord. Since then, he's really rehabilitated his image as this 'heart of gold' businessman (he's the one who puts bells and furniture in trees for you to find! he adopted orphans! he donates to charity!), but New Horizons genuinely paints the most devious version of him.

He's successfully privatized settler colonialism: you pay HIM to move to a "deserted island" (which apparently the oceans in the AC world are just full of) and start a colony that he is directly invested in. At best he's running a weird vacation package scam (you arrive on the island with no money and in debt for "using his services"). At worst, he's using you to set up company towns. For god's sake, he literally has his own fake currency that he forces you to use to pay off your debt. But don't worry, he's repackaged it in a way that definitely doesn't sound like an MLM scam: the Nook Mileage Program!

You're no longer just his tenant or his temporary part-timer, you're his business lackey. The entire tutorial section of the game has you spending actual weeks running around completing tasks and doing hard labor to set up his colony. You're even tasked with preparing his properties and finding buyers for them. No, you aren't a tenant anymore. You work for the landlord. You are directly responsible for finding tenants for him. And he doesn't even fucking pay you. Not for setting up town hall and museum, or his nephew's shop –– which is the ONLY store on the entire island that sells necessities –– or bringing KK Slider to town, or helping populate his town. Not a single cent. No, actually, you have to pay HIM to BUY infrastructure like bridges and stairs and park benches. And all the while, he's telling you're the "resident representative"; you get to call the shots! That the reward is the community's progress. That what you're doing is in everyone's best interest (but most importantly, his).

Since NH's release, people have done a lot of legwork to say that Tom Nook isn't a capitalist while the game shows him at his very worst. He owns the only general store in town. You're forced to use a phone that he modified and branded as his own. Buy Nook-branded furniture and merchandise at the self-serve kiosk in the town hall, a governmental building! There's no conflict of interest here!

But hey, if you're tired of being the landlord/business mogul's goon, you can also find work as a deluxe resort home designer for a company that also pays you in their special company currency that can only be used to buy their products instead of a real salary! Because that's what the Animal Crossing franchise needs! More vacation homes!!!

[thesociallyanxioussociopath]

Part 4 and End of Alastor's bad day Alastor survived his fake date and will probably (not) think twice in the future before trying to one-up Lucifer on unknown projects. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[somnimagus]

out of the frying pan and into the fire and into another frying pan that's also on fire

[id in alt text]

[egophiliac]

NEW BIRTHDAY THEME IS OUT!!!!!!!!!!!

BIRTHDAY SLUMBER PARTY, HERE WE COME

I think the theme is more loungewear than straight-up pajamas, but hey, I'm not complaining! (and -- look, we still have the groovies, I'm not giving up hope for animal kigurumi until I gotta)

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

As per usual, it’s DP crossover with (probably) DC, although you could probably adjust it for other fandoms

ANYWAYS

A little kid and his mother are trick or treating in another city, perhaps at some kind of event rather than knocking on doors, and the kid is dressed as Phantom. It’s very adorable, with his little ghost-shaped bucket and clearly homemade and already stained costume—listen, white only works if you can just fly over street grime or phase it out of your clothes—and his slightly I’ll fitting wig. The kid is SO happy to be out and about dressed as his favorite, and maybe even showed it off to Phantom back in Amity Park before his family left.

The hero, insert whoever you wish here, is probably in civvies and just enjoying the event. The kid, meanwhile, is so glad when people ask who he is so he can explain, and so- the hero gets to hear ALL ABOUT the local town hero who is probably pretty small time despite the kid’s clearly exaggerated stories. The hero certainly never heard of him, but the kid’s mom confirms that Phantom really was the town hero, despite some mixed reviews of the poor guy.

“Did you manage to show him your costume?” the hero asks.

“Yeah! We went down to the cemetery to leave flowers and I got to show him my costume.”

Wait. Cemetery? Maybe it was part of theme, because Phantom had to be named that for a reason, but… it sounded like…

The kid ignores the suddenly VERY still hero and instead turns to his mom. “Momma, do you think we should bring him candy? He doesn’t get to trick or treat like we do, and I can work super hard to get him a bunch!”

The kid’s mom just smiles. “We could, but maybe we should bring him something homemade. I bet he’d like something more filling, teen boys like him have a hollow leg.”

The kid wrinkles his nose. “Like Vernie with the pizza bagels?”

“Like your cousin, yes. We can make some cinnamon rolls and take them to his memorial, maybe bring some of the apples from your grandpa’s garden…”

The hero is pretty much forgotten as the two-part family wanders off, not quite intentionally forgetting the hero is there so much as the hero somewhat accidentally ended the conversation when they just froze and didn’t ask anything further.

Not that the hero didn’t want to. But they’d learn something very serious.

One—there was a small town hero they’d never heard of. Two—that hero was apparently a teen. Third—most pressingly, the teen hero was both beloved enough to have kids dressing up as him and dead enough to have a grave.

This… might require some phone calls.

[mroddmod]

little scrapped comic bc it felt a bit ooc to me in hindsight

[choccy-milky]

💙 💚

[wyvernity]

been thinking about the sinnohtrio lately......plus misc other stuff

also, casual ko-fi drop!! get something in this sketchy style starting at $10 woop woop

[remxedmoon]

boo! old woman jumpscare

greyscale vers below!

[secretly-a-trekkie]

just a casual wip bc why not

[starry-bi-sky]

wolfpack. aka: if not friend, then why friend-shaped?

"Hey-- uh, Danny?" There's an almost imperceptible tremor in Tucker's voice.

Danny doesn't look up from what he's doing, his pencil scritching across his notebook as he tries to do another quadratic formula question. "Hm."

"What's -- uh -- what's with the dogs?"

He looks up now, and finally sees where Tucker is -- standing in the doorway of his room with an ashy look on his face and a skewed, nervous smile. He's got a white knuckle grip on the doorknob. Sam is wide-eyed behind him, and using him as a partial meat-shield.

Danny looks down to the two giant ghost wolves sprawled next to him lazily. One large green one with his head in Danny's lap, letting him use him as a prop-up for his notebook. Another equally large black one splayed against his hip, sleeping on her side with her head tilted inward to his calf.

Automatically, a grin tilts across Danny's face, and he lifts his notebook up to scratch behind the green one's ears. He opens a lazy eye, one that is bloody red with a ring of yellow around the pupil, before slipping it shut and leaning his head into Danny's touch. "This is Sirius and Procyon," he says, and reaches down to scratch Sirius' belly. "And they're not dogs, they're wolves."

"Great," Tucker says, his voice suddenly much smaller and faint, "Love that distinction."

Sirius makes a great big groan, and Danny's grin widens, his heart swelling with fondness. His hand slips away from her belly, and before he can put his notebook back down, Procyon pushes his head up his lap until his ear is against his stomach, demanding pets now too.

Sam peeks her head up from over Tucker's shoulder, "I think what Tucker's asking here is what are they doing here, Danny."

He shrugs, scratching under Procyon's chin. "They kinda just showed up. I tried sending them back to the Zone, but they keep returning." And they were weirdly intent on just following him around, which is the only reason he gave up on returning them. They weren't causing trouble, and they knew how to hide around the living. Plus, he just loves dogs. "So now I have two wolves living with me."

This, oddly enough, did not do anything to calm Sam and Tucker down. Tucker's mouth purses into a thin line, and he presses the sides of his palms to his lips in prayer. "How have your parents not found out about this?"

Danny wordlessly raises his hand, and his sleeve slides down to reveal a thin chain bracelet hooked around his wrist. He whistles sharply, and both Procyon and Sirius jerk their heads up to look at him, ears pricked up and eyes alert.

Silently, he points to his wrist and rattles it twice, and in unison both wolves stand up and pounce. Instantly, they turn into a respective, opaque black and green mist that swirls around the bracelet and forms into two, flat wolf charms.

Both wolves are posing in the stereotypical wolf howl, with little stars indented on the sides. Procyon's charm has the Canis Minor constellation engraved on it, while Sirius has the Canis Major.

Danny faces Sam and Tucker, and points at his wrist. "Like this."