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starry-bi-sky · 10 months ago

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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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bluerosefox · 1 year ago

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Timelines, Red Robins, and Kings

When Tim Drake, who was tossed in the Pits after losing his spleen, suddenly crash lands in Clockworks Tower during Danny's Ghost King lessons, all the time keeper says with a 'I know more than you' smile "Ah, so it's this timeline being played out. How fun this will be. Danny, come. I have a new... friend for you to meet."

"CW...." Danny starts, staring unbelievable at his Ghost King mentor before sighing "Why are you like this?"

"Hush now my King. You will thank me later for the introduction between you both but for now summon forth Frostbite, we'll need his medical expertise for this one "

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #blue rambles #crossover #writing ideas #random idea #danny phantom dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dead tired #tim drake #a i guess you can call it a meet cute?#ghost king danny #CW wasn't expecting this timeline to actually happen but knows its a good one #rim was dying from his spleen being stabbed and taken out #and Ra's didn't wanna risk losing his 'future heir' so he just tossed him in the pits for good measure #but he didn't know a portal opened up on top of the pit #so Tim technically hasn't been in the pits but got very close #ectoplasim will be much better for him rather than the pits though #if CW plays his cards right not only will he get his King a consort that isn't pressured by the dumb council of eyeballs #but he also maybe gets a true time keeper apprentice #yep you read that right #he wants Tim to help with the time stream #but first he has to make sure Tim understand how fragile the timelines are and how to reset messing with them... to much.#like there is wiggle room and nudging things into order but you cant outright change it too much unless there is no other choice #i think Tim would be perfect for the job #but still even if he doesn't take Tim in as his future apprentice there are still odd jobs he can have the boy do #in exchange for CW to help pull Bruce from the Time Stream and back home #he hasn't done it yet because the time powers around Bruce make it a bit tricky for CW but if someone else can pull him out it... well...

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s0fter-sin · 7 months ago

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soap's whole deal being sniper and demolitions gets me going bc on the surface they sound so different but when you get into it, you realise it's bc soap's smart

sniping is all math; calculating distances and wind interference and bullet drop. something i think people overlook is he was listed as a sniper first so it can be implied that he's better at it than demolitions. he does more sniping in both campaigns than demolitions work; in capture or kill, ghost specifically calls on him to take down the aq snipers

and demolitions is math with a hit of chemistry; knowing what mixes with what, knowing how much to use, recognising environmental factors and adjusting accordingly. it's not just about the boom; so much work goes into contained/ planned explosions. especially when having enough power for a breacher charge and not bringing down the whole building is the difference between mission success and failure

the chemical bombs he makes in alone can't just be any old cleaners, they have to have the correct reaction to each other; he just knew off the top of his head what would mix with what to create what reaction. he would also potentially have to recognise them by sight/smell bc they would’ve been written in spanish

soap would also have to know architecture; recognising structural integrity and weak points so he knows exactly where to plant a charge to bring it down and how it'll come down

he has an incredible soldier's mind people just forget that bc he's sociable which itself is a skill

we know he tends to buck against orders he doesn't agree with like when he pushes back against ghost in capture or kill and shepherd when he tells them to release hassan

he gets closer to people and sees if he can trust them and that's when he follows them without question. really think about how he talks to alejandro and rudy; he asks about their home and alejandro's family and rudy's relationship with him. those aren't questions you ask a stranger after a few hours of knowing them. that's not even touching on his relationship with ghost

he also deliberately brings people of higher ranks down to his level; talking informally with ghost and giving him a shoulder punch, addressing alejandro (a colonel!!) by his first name and rudy by his nickname despite literally just meeting them. he personalises all of them and it’s in direct opposition to the reason most characters do that; it’s not due to insubordination or lack of respect, the more he respects and trusts someone, the more casual he is with them

he digs into people; he wants to know what makes them tick and that determines if he can one, trust them and two, follow their orders. once he decides that, he's the ultimate soldier; he bleeds loyalty which makes him vicious when that loyalty is taken for granted

he isn't naive or bubbly or insecure; he's an incredibly smart and aware soldier. he's aggressive and bloodthirsty and loyal and intuitive and i love him so much

#i cant believe i never posted the soap meta that got me twitter famous™️💅#as with damn near every piece of characterisation in this franchise soaps is only apparent in subtext and connecting tiny little dots #it is very easy to just pick up his surface personality and think thats all he is #but soaps not a sunshine character #hes not super friendly or bright #hes just willing to talk to people and hes paired up with ghost who never wants to start a conversation #every time i see soap presented as this bubbly airhead thats super sweet and just blows stuff up i lose a year off my life #and i dont blame people for getting this vibe from him but im begging you to look a lil deeper #this isnt getting into his anger or the fact that he is a soldier which automatically makes him a wee bit fucked up #like he is hyperviolent and takes joy in it #we all know ghosts snuff film joke but soaps the one who responds positively to it #he returns the joke and only calls him out on it when he says he wont watch it more than once and even then its teasing not grossed out #and if we take the ‘he tried to join the military at 16’ factoid from 09 as current canon then he very easily could have a rough home life #no one tries to repeatedly join the military early without having some kind of problems #soap knows his worth and his abilities you dont get to be as good and specialised as he is without being completely sure of yourself #we know ghost has an ego but soap constantly butts up against it with his own affirmations #‘you wanna be better than me johnny’ ‘maybe i already am/i will be’ ‘a little helps not so bad eh lt’#being a sniper makes me hate the ‘cant sit still’ hc hes literally an sas sniper he wouldnt be complaining after a few hours of overwatch #i like the adhd hc and maybe he fidgets in his day to day life but the second hes at work hes At Work #tldr soap could be just as complex a character as ghost if cod would stop treating their campaigns as an afterthought and actually commit #coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt #we’re a team. ghost team #talk meta to me #john soap mactavish #soap cod #cod mw2 #soapghost #save post #call of duty modern warfare #cod meta

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seefasterdraws · 1 year ago

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captain and the girlssss

#bbc ghosts #ghosts bbc #i think its sweet that captain’s better friends with the girls than with any of the guys aside from pat #even then he and pat are like co-leaders #i think its fascinating how his relationship with both of them evolved #i think sometimes about that moment where lady b’s offended about the two brides and captain gives her a side glance but obviously #says nothing #can you tell i post art just to ramble in the replies?#also when kitty’s looking for someone she yells alison’s name first and then captain’s. i just think that they #kitty’s two fairy godmothers………..#edit: why did i say replies when i meant tags. anyway

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reds-skull · 2 months ago

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Was doing some anatomy studies earlier and figured I could practice on the 141

(not the most efficient way to do it since I struggled with Soap's face for like a quarter of it...)

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod soap #cod ghost #cod gaz #cod price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john price #cod fanart #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty fanart #gaz as always looking better than anyone else #soap's face is so hard to draw why #my anatomy still needs work but i slowly feel like im improving #sorry for not posting im working on a comic and another rev side story and its. its taking a while rip

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spacerangersam · 16 days ago

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take 2. woo

#bbc ghosts #patcap #still not perfect but i think its a bit better than my first go

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thejeangreysummers · 4 months ago

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SUMMER IN NOVEMBER | simon x afab reader

warnings: making out, touching, shared shower time but no smut yet. traumatized simon with negative self worth post near death experience, reader is not in the military by choice, dubcon regarding tits if you squint, and possessive simon. (not proofread we die like men ig)

Simon loves the desperation in your first kiss, you kiss him through the mask clumsily with your arms around his neck. For the first time his reflexes loose their rigidity as he barely closes his eyes as you’re pulling away. Flushed, shamefaced, mumbling thank god you’re safe and turning away.

Simon tugs you by the wrist, it’s not a request by the way he’s studying you. You’re ready for the lecture about professionalism or a comment about how you’re old enough to know better than to pull a stunt like this. He’s never barked at you the way he does with the team. Never complains when you sit in his chair, doesn’t say anything when you drink out of his mug, and when you go out he’s paying your tab before you can touch it.

This will be the breaking point, the last time he tolerates you, now he’s going to tell you to go fuck yourself for sure. He tells you to close your eyes and you’re ready for him to scream at you bracing yourself not to cry.

Ghost kisses you roughly, sucking on your bottom lip, demanding you open yourself to him. In seconds he has you against the wall caging you in as he sucks on your neck, it’s better than the wet dreams you’ve been having with just this one kiss. All your nerve ending ache for him and you’re squirming, Simon pulls away eyes wide.

He’s still got blood tainted on his uniform, his hands have gunpowder residue — who is he to kiss you? You deserve more than a single night of him fucking you until you can’t stand. You don’t belong amongst all this carnage. You don’t belong with him.

Yet, you’re pulling him by his collar cradling his face in your small hands, kissing him again, softer like you’re sipping on his mouth, savoring it until he leaves again. Simon doesn’t want to share you with the wraith inside him, he wants all your sunlight to soak into him instead.

He lets you tug him to the infirmary, watches you re-reading the patient portal notes on your phone while walking to his room. When he complains, you silence his smart ass comments about his injuries when you slide into his lap. You curl into him like a cat searching for warmth, praise, and petting. He keens at your attention, your excessive worry, and your newfound display of affection. Wondering if after tonight you’ll come to your senses and never make him tea in the middle of the night again. He could make you beg for his mouth, but he can’t make you love him.

Simon leans into you as you set up a shower for him palming at your waist, digging his fingers into your hips, hovering over the button of your cargo pants. He lets you undress him just in his boxers and balaclava, you press a shaky kiss to the middle of his chest promising to wait for him in the bedroom. For the first time Simon doesn’t want to be alone, he catches himself asking you to join him in the shower. He doesn’t want to fuck you in the shower, he just wants you stay, but he doesn’t know how to justify the yearning he’s been holding for you. You don’t complicate things for him, just let him unzip your pants and unhook your bra. In the shower you stand away from the stream of hot water, gently scrubbing the sweat and exhaustion off his skin. You look away from his half hard cock as you run a washcloth over his calves, after doting on him you press a kiss to his cloth covered mouth. You gently trace the seam of his mask and tell him you’re leaving so he wash his intimates. Simon emerges out the steamy shower to a warm towel and neatly folded night clothes beside a clean balaclava with its signature skull.

That night your hands don’t linger down to his waist, you let him lay his head on your chest, you scratch down his upper back until you fall asleep. You never ask him for more than he’s willing to give, you’re so innocently interrupting the hardened exterior he presents, and you’re too naive to know he wanted you from the minute you looked up at him.

Simon needs one minute with his bare face against your tits. He knows from carrying you home after a drink turns to two, you’re affectionate until you’re fighting sleep you can’t be stirred. He knows you wouldn’t deny him this if you were awake. He’s slipping off the mask nuzzling his face against your tits into the curve of your neck until he’s on top of you leaning his forehead against yours and barely kissing your mouth.

He slips on his mask again, unwilling to let you see him vying for your love, waiting for your praise. He’s leaves the bed, wondering if he should pretend this night never happened, when you’re calling out his name in your sleep. Simon returns to the bed as you’re gasping for air, you heave with sobs as he pulls you into his chest. You’re begging him not to die, not to disappear, not to abandon you.

“I love you, you can’t leave.”

For the first time in the years he’s known you, something emerges that is unyielding— more than a watery sob this is a practically a prayer. Your wish may be more than you bargained for, but you belong to him now. If you’ll take him as he is sharp teeth, crooked, and scarred he must find a way to live with himself. One day you’ll know that you’re the first to have touched his broken nose, scarred cupid’s bow, and uneven shave. He wasn’t held like this even when he was a child, but you’re holding onto him for dear life and you love him.

The way you see through everyone extends past human understanding, you’re both paranormal in your own ways. You’re a collection of colorful persistent oddities, your curious consumptions forced you into this line of business. Your mistakes is his dumb luck, he’s claiming your love as his prize. You’re too pretty a bird to stay in these barracks, kept in this cage, consumed by all this corruption. After everything his atonement will be keeping you safe. Men may change, but the self serving nature of ghosts linger. The prospect of spoiling you rotten, earning your smile, and making you whimper his name will be his own pleasures one day.

#simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #soft simon riley #jean writes #this is a tender moment but i do i feel like when he’s overstimulated enjoying eating pussy he cries a little bit #i said what i said #it’s 1am i need to stop #but like simon loving for the first time and he’s afraid of doing it wrong #he has no blueprint for a happy relationship #he’s just desperate to keep his better half and i hate to say it but this man loves his partner more than this work #he knows devotion for the first time and he’s leaving the horrors of military industrial complex and all its problematic elements to be #in love and not at war (with himself) and like everyone shooting at him

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many-gay-magpies · 5 months ago

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god what really gets me about dead boy detectives and what i think i love so much about the show and the relationships in it is that like. the romantic and sexual relationships aren't portrayed as being more unique or important than the platonic relationships. they're all just RELATIONSHIPS.

charles and crystal's attraction to each other and eventual hookup isn't this big end-all be-all relationship that shatter charles and edwin's friendship and draws charles' attention away from edwin; it's just a THING that happens. they're just two people that care about each other and happen to also be attracted to each other, and a hook-up happens, then they decide that neither of them are in the right place for it and it's nothing awful. crystal kisses charles, but it isn't some big spectacle of her declaring her love for him; it's just her saying goodbye and that she cares about him, like her hugs with niko and jenny and her handshake with edwin.

edwin realizes he loves charles romantically and tells him, and charles says he doesn't really love edwin romantically BACK, but it's okay, because they still love each other so much in so many other ways that this one tiny difference could never change them—and it doesn't!! they're still just as close, still care for each other just as much, still SHOW that care for each other just as much. their relationship didn't completely end because edwin loved charles in a way charles couldn't reciprocate, but at the same time it isn't "solved" by edwin getting over it, because there's nothing TO solve. it's just another type of love, added to everything that already exists between them. and they have LITERALLY FOREVER to figure out what it means.

the relationships between edwin & niko, crystal & niko, and crystal & edwin aren't given any less weight for being solely platonic, just as charles & crystal's relationship and edwin's feelings for charles aren't given (that much) MORE weight for being romantic. crystal and charles' conflict in the closet is about EDWIN, about how they're BOTH his friend and BOTH want to get him back; it has very little to do with the feelings between THEM, romantic or otherwise. similarly, the weight of charles' and edwin's relationship isn't diminished in the LEAST by charles not reciprocating the romantic side of his feelings (or SAYING he doesn't reciprocate, at least—we can all argue about the legitimacy of that in the notes).

i'm sure there are more examples than this, as well as probably some examples that CONTRADICT this, but like... by and large, it feels like dead boy detectives is a show where all the relationships are given equal weight regardless of platonic, sexual, romantic, or familial status, and as someone on both the asexual and aromantic spectrums who has struggled time and time again with shows casting out the importance of all other relationships in favor of prioritizing romance, that is INCREDIBLY refreshing to see.

#this might be a lot of run-on sentences and me repeating itself because its 2 am rn (sidenote how the HELL did it get that late last i chec #-ed it was like 11???) but i hope u enjoy anyway 👍#magpie thoughts #dead boy detectives #ik before watching the show i saw a lot of people were annoyed by charles and crystal's relationship and thought it felt forced and like #-they had no romantic chemistry #but honestly. having watched the show. i don't see that at all?#like maybe it's just me being aspec and not getting what ''romantic chemistry'' even IS but like. they were people. they were two fucked up #-people that happened to be attracted to each other and they hooked up when both of them were in low places and agreed to not go any furthe #-after. but beyond all of that they are FRIENDS and they STAY friends and like. they just felt like PEOPLE #the way they were written and the way the actors ACTED IT felt like ten times better to me than the dozens of pinacle romances i've seen in #-other tv shows #(and also i gotta say i love the other CASUALNESS with which sex was mentioned in the early episodes. it wasnt made out to be this big thin #-that only happens when tied to romance; it was just a THING. theyre both hot and in different circumstances they totally would have had se #-about it (and eventually they did but thats besides the point). that's it)#they're people. this is a show full of ghosts and demons and witches and crows-turned-into-boys but they are all fundamentally just PEOPLE #beautiful and fucked up human beings that feel attraction and hurt and fear and love in a million different ways.#AUGH i love this show so much #paineland #payneland #crystal palace #charles rowland #edwin payne #niko sasaki #dead boy detective netflix #dbda

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the-holy-ghosted · 4 months ago

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NO MATTER HOW HARD YOU TRY, HE AIN'T EVER GONNA BE YOUR SON

#the heron giveth #ghosted (2011)#paul ghosted #jack ghosted #john lynch #martin compston #FUCK IT. PASSION PROJECT FOR A MOVIE NOBODY'S FUCKING SEEN #its about as finished as it will get and im honestly pretty pleased #it looks better than i thought it would #erin has been griffstan posting for longer so im taking their strength . and i will not be ashamed of it #ask me about ghosted <333 ask me my thoughts <33333 this is a good idea i promise ask me <3333333

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starry-bi-sky · 8 months ago

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i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc prompt #man i just really need more dpdc stuff where danny and bruce have a good relationship. like man i NEED it. like i need to see these two #bonding together. and not in a cracky 'oh danny is a distant friend/cousin/etc' stuff but like. active participants in each other's lives #or as active as can be in this case. i neeeeed these two getting along and caring about one another #this idea came to me like last night and hasn't left since nd it was driving me up the wall to think about both positively and negatively b #i neeeded someone to hear about this or i was gonna implode #danny is the first son #tried to just get the general gist of the idea down but i definitely thought of the idea that bruce lowkey suspects vlad for having a hand #Vlad allows Danny to sneak off because he thinks Danny is alone. if he knew Bruce was there he'd be piiisssed and would put a stop to it #Sam and Tucker are alive they just got ghosted for a bit by danny bc he was in Major Grief and didn't wanna socialize. He couldn't go to #them because he didn't wanna put them in danger via Vlad.#oh that thing he handed Bruce? Yeah that's his ghost core. I have a headcanon (that isnt always applied) that ghosts can take their cores #out of their bodies at will and painlessly and without issue. and its common practice actually to do so bc they can be a not insignificant #distance away from said core before problems start to act up. and its common for ghosts to leave their physical cores at their lairs for #safekeeping because as long as the physical core is fine: so is the ghost. they can reform if their body gets destroyed. it also acts as a #fast travel sometimes. where they can reform at their core in an instant. its not inspired in the slightest by SU but i do see the overlap #most cores are pretty small for safety sake: its harder to hit if its small. and they're pr resilient too but its better to be safe than #sorry. so yeah. danny essentially gave bruce the physical embodiment of his soul and indirectly said #'if anything happens to me at least i'll be safe with you'#danny doesn't know he's batman btw #starry rambles.#was gonna go into danny becoming a vigilante beside bruce but im sleeeepy so i'll do that in a reblog. he's gonna go by nightingale if #anyone is interested. stereotypical but to be frank it is a *good* name imo. has a good amount of syllables and consonants to it #and the bird theme. and since its part of an ancestral name it has even more backing for it being bird-y without being meta

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soupmanspeaks · 4 months ago

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guys please you gotta understand glamfred seeing a faint guy with orange hair and flannel looking at him proudly when hes hanging out with greg....and he has this.....fatherly energy about him....like his presence itself was a comfort on days where a little boy's own father wasn't the nicest.....guys pelals

#fnaf #michael afton #five nights at freddy’s #glammike #glamrock freddy #silly salvaged au #henry emily #please guys you gotta understand #people in the pizzaplex just reporting a guy in flannel and overalls watching GFreddy fondly #its just henry going “THATS MY BOY!!!”#no he goes to burntrap and is like “HAHHHH I RAISED HIM BETTER IN 5 YEARS THAN YOU EVER COULD IN 18!!!! HAHHHH!! SUCK IT !”#“Shut up henry Ill kill you and Michael”#“uh huh...and how are you gonna do that bill?”#“.........I hate you so much.”#"As do I'#and then idk maybe they ki #sorry what was this post about #OH YEAH CUTE GLAMMIKE AND HENRY STUFF #yeah greg talks to henry too yeah #yeah ykw he can see ghosts yeah #hes with cassie and is like “yeah my gramps is next to you say hi :)”#and shes like “.........hi...?”#the friends ever ong ong

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wolfjackle-creates · 2 years ago

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Ghost!Robin Part 9

First, Previous

I'm posting early this Wednesday! I've down time at work as I wait for the centrifuge to stop spinning my antibodies (48 minutes left of 2 hours). And I have plans after work. So it's either now or at 11 pm my time.

Story Summary: Danny was invited to dinner at Wayne Manor to meet Jazz's boyfriend and his family for the first time. He worked hard to make sure no ghost business would interrupt the evening. But when he arrived, all he could focus on was the ghost of the dead Robin that seemed to haunt Jason.

Word Count: 1.2k

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Jason’s voice was low and threatening. “It’s an ice duck made of Lazarus water.”

More alarming than his voice was the way his eyes glowed ecto-green and the fear-anger that filled the room.

Thank the ancients for Jazz, because he had no idea how to respond to that. She was the one who placed a hand on Jason’s arm and asked, “What’s Lazarus water?”

Meanwhile, Danny focused on sending out calm, no danger, safe feelings to counteract Jason’s projections.

It seemed to work slightly as Jason lowered his gun, but he didn’t put it away. “Just green, bubbling liquid that collects in pits and will kill the healthy but return the mortally wounded to life with a side dose of uncontrollable rage.” His eyes were glued to the duck in Danny’s hands.

That sounded like the opposite of good, Pariah curse it. “Jazz, why do your in-laws keep giving me more work to do?” Danny groaned as he mentally moved a few things around his to-do list.

He handed the duck to Robin who gave a thanks trill as he took it.

Danny continued, “And, Jason, can you tell me where these pits are so I can get rid of them? Sounds like there’s some leaks between the Infinite Realms and the moral realms that were never dealt with because Pariah was the worst.”

“Who is this ‘Pariah’ person?” asked Damian. “You have mentioned them before.”

Danny was going to reply when Alfred cleared his throat and the table went silent to look at him. “I understand there’s a lot of information everyone wants to know from our guests, however I believe it has been recognized that they wish us no harm. So perhaps we might allow them to at least taste the pie Master Jason and I worked hard on? We also have ice cream, Mr. Danny.”

Jazz took the excuse to tug on Jason’s arm. He hesitated a moment, still looking uncertainly at his ghost playing with the duck, but obediently sat down without saying anything more.

“I haven’t had ice cream in ages,” admitted Danny. “Haven’t even been on Earth for months my-time. Only been a few weeks Earth-time, though.” Taking his fork in hand, he tried a bite of the pie. It had at least four different types of fruit from what he could see—cherries, raspberries, strawberries, and peaches. It was amazing. Over the time they’d been talking, it had cooled slightly, but was still warm. “Holy shit, you two made this? It’s so good!” Without waiting for a response he took another bite. “Ancients, I miss Earth food when I’m gone so long. Jazz, can we get burgers tomorrow?”

“Of course, Danny. Has it really been that long for you? When was the last time you saw Sam and Tucker?”

Danny shrugged as he swallowed. “I’ve been out of contact with anyone for a month my-time. Grandpa had me on another planet doing time-stream stuff. But Sam and Tuck were with me in the Realms before that. We had about a week together and they saw me off.”

“I have so many questions based off that statement,” said Dick.

“I’m compiling a list, Dick,” said Tim from the other side of the table.

Alfred cleared his throat again and about half the table muttered a “sorry.”

“Now, Mr. Danny, for ice cream, I’ve made French vanilla and chocolate. Would you like to try one or both?”

“You made the ice cream? I don’t think I’ve ever had homemade ice cream before. Can I take some of both?”

“Of course. Master Jason, could you pass the ice cream to Mr. Danny?”

The wave of annoyance that radiated out of Jason told Danny exactly what he thought of that suggestion. Robin clucked his tongue in reproach. But out loud, Jason just said, “Of course.” He grabbed a covered bucket which must hold the ice cream and passed it to Jazz who gave it to Danny.

“Thanks, dead boyfriend number two!” With a grin, Danny sent back friends, gratitude, happiness to Jason. Just to be contrary.

Jason’s projections morphed into confusion, frustration.

Danny and Robin looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Mind explaining what’s so funny to the class?” asked Jazz with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

Rather than answer her directly, Danny spoke to Jason. “Hey, Jay, can I call you Jay? Well, we’re gonna be brothers-in-law so I’m gonna. You really need to work on controlling what emotions you’re projecting. Otherwise I might get hurt by how much you don’t trust me.” He pouted and played up the offense, but only held it for a second before opening the ice cream and giving himself a large scoop of each flavor. “Oh, Robin, you can eat the duck, by the way. Like a popsicle. Have dessert with us.”

“What do you mean projecting? And brothers-in-law?” demanded Jason.

Danny ignored him in favor of Robin who grinned widely and licked the head of the duck. Outwardly, he projected tasty, gratitude. To really push the point home, he popped the head of the duck in his mouth and used his now-free hands to sign something.

Dick translated, “He says it’s good.”

“Of course it is. He’s a baby ghost, needs his ecto!” Danny took a bite of ice cream.

Jazz cleared her throat and said in a conversational tone, “Danny, remember the conversation we had about spoilers?”

“Hmmm?” asked Danny around a spoonful of pie. It was so good.

“Spoilers, Danny. You’ve let some slip.”

“I have?” Danny thought back over the things he’d said recently and froze. “You and Jason aren’t engaged yet.”

Jazz closed her eyes and looked up. “No, Danny. We’re not.”

Danny flushed and rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry! Honest mistake. At least I haven’t told you how—”

Jazz slammed a hand over his mouth. “Don’t you dare, Daniel James! No spoilers!”

Danny grinned into her hand and licked her palm.

“Danny! Gross!” she cried as she pulled her hand away. “I know you have hand sanitizer in that bottomless pit of yours. Pass it over.”

As he was reaching into his bag, he noticed Robin had left his spot in front of Danny and moved until he was floating in front of Bruce where he seemed to be signing something. Cass stood up and took her plate, moving to sit next to Steph and Robin took her seat. The ghost smiled up at Bruce who looked back at him with a frown.

Danny sent out a pulse of concern, you okay?

Robin nodded. Happy, comfortable.

Ghosts couldn’t lie when they communicated with core-feelings, so Danny nodded and went back to searching for the hand sanitizer which he handed to Jazz.

Jason was back to staring at him, though. “Hey, Alfie? Can I ask Danny a question?”

Alfred let out a put-upon sigh. “You, and you alone”—he gave a look to everyone at the table—“may ask Mr. Danny a single question. All other questions must wait until Mr. Danny has finished his dessert and informs you he is willing to answer more of them.”

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I just want to tell all of you how much I loved every comment demanding Danny get to eat his pie. You all really made my week.

Over the weekend, I shared a bit more of the fic where Danny and Tim were online childhood friends. Check it out if that's something you're interested in!

And I guess I didn't include line I shared as part of the tag game in this update. I'm trying to give myself more of a buffer in case I can't get as much writing done in the upcoming weeks, so the segments I share might by somewhat shorter.

Tag List Part 1

@addie-lover-of-stories, @justwannabecat, @gin2212, @amercurio, @regonold, @overtherose, @readerzj, @sjrose1216, @echoednonny, @deeterzz, @blu-lilac, @number-one-jew, @rowanaway-fromthisbs, @vythika96, @tired-yet-awaken, @themirrorghost, @emeraldcorpral, @all-mights-asscheeks, @darkhinauniverse, @blep-23, @phandomhyperfixationblog, @larkcoe1, @thegatorsgoose, @job-ross-the-second, @britcision, @lenacraft, @bubblemixer, @androgynouslordofescapism, @purefrickingspite, @leftmiraclechaos, @lizisipancardo, @starlight-sparks, @miraculousandmore, @gildedphoenix, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @letmesayfuxk, @phoenixcatch7, @skulld3mort-1fan, @abaowo, @dhampir-princess, @idkmrpianoman, @sarina-elais, @ballzfrog-blog, @undead-essence, @spookytragedyshark, @flyingpansaurus, @akintoabitch, @marivictal, @8-29pm, @justreadingthefanfics, @happybear135, @kisatamao, @spoopyspoony, @adorablechaos, @sara0055, @screamingtofillthevoid

#dpxdc #danny fenton #jason todd #jazz fenton #anger managment #ghost!robin #my writing #he got his pie!#and alfred is glaring at every single person who looks like they are going to ask a question #its very effective #bruce doesnt know how to face the ghost of his worst mistake #but ghost!robin gets it #better than living jason #after all when bruce brought in kid!jason #it was just the two of them

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s0fter-sin · 3 months ago

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"advise you move interior if you're not already... it's good cover"

that last bit has always felt like such an afterthought; it comes just a beat too late like ghost hadn't intended to elaborate on his order

did he add it to head off soap's inevitable questions; pushing back against his orders just like in al mazrah? never bc of insubordination but just bc of an intrinsic need to know the thought process behind an order before he can follow it

has he ever had to explain his thinking before; too used to being followed without question, his word always the authority in both rank and experience? just to meet soap who pushes back, not in doubt, but from the sheer desire to know

has it already become instinct to explain?

was it to start teaching him to think even deeper about his own survival? to look at his surroundings and see everything as an opportunity and tool at his disposal? already feeling the urge to implant these lessons so, should the time come, soap can implement them himself

he knows he won't always be there; whether it's as simple as distance, comms going down or his inevitable death, at some point soap won't have anyone at his back

better to teach the root of survival so he won't need protecting

even the phrasing, "if you're not already", he's not babying soap, not undermining his skills; he assumes soap knows to get inside bc he knows he’s a good soldier. but just in case he doesn’t, in case he’s frazzled and not thinking, he offers it as a reminder

#the way i cant stop finding new things in this bloody mission #ghost ‘give a man a fish vs teach a man to fish’ riley #ghost is an arrogant prick we been knew but we also know its deserved #his first piece of advice for the entire alone mission ends with the caveat of ‘if youre not already’#hes not presuming to know more than soap and he makes the point of saying that #until soap says ‘sounds like youve done this before’ and he takes it as an admission that soaps out of his depth #thats when his advice and his praise comes hot and heavy #he never treats soap like hes above him in terms of skill until hes outright told hes better #the one time he does is in the camera part of prison break and even then i think its bc hes flustered by having help and receiving praise #praise he doesnt know how to accept so he feels the need to cut soap down to get away from it #fuck i love these two #coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt #we’re a team. ghost team #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #soap cod #john soap mactavish #save post #talk meta to me

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seaweedstarshine · 5 months ago

Text

Late to the game as I’ve kinda been kinda non-here for a minute but I scrolled through the Dot and Bubble tag, and thought I wanted to write this post into existence.

There's this part in Doctor Who Unleashed where RTD says this:

“What we can’t tell is how many people will have worked that out before the ending. Because they’ve seen white person after white person after white person, and television these days is very diverse. I wonder, will you be ten minutes into it, will you be fifteen, will you be twenty, before you start to think, everyone in this community is white. And if you don’t think that — why didn’t you? So, that’s gonna be interesting. I hope it’s one of those pieces of television you see, and always remember.”

And I'm like. Yeah. But the reason this works even as well as it does is largely thanks to the work of the previous showrunner with the previous creative team, which was notably the first era to have any writers of color (amongst other firsts in terms of inclusivity in directors, composer, actors). While Chibnall fumbled whenever he tried to write about race himself, he did have the self-awareness to have Black and South Asian writers writing the episodes where race is the focus (and a female writer for the episode where sexism is a focus; my point is, he seemed to know his shortcomings).

I wonder what the current creative team looks like? (not really, but I wasn't 100% sure for all of them)

To quote RTD:

“...before you start to think, everyone in this community is white.”

This is pretty non-self-aware, right? It's pretty “It is said, and I understand this, there was a history of racism with the original Toymaker, the Celestial Toymaker, who had ‘celestial,’ and I did not know this, but ‘celestial’ can mean of Chinese origin, but in a derogatory way,” right? (from The Giggle Unleashed) It's pretty “and I had problems with that, and a lot of us on the production team had problems with that: associating disability with evil,” right? (from Destination Skaro Unleashed)

—none of which are issues that should be overlooked, but think how much exponentially better they might’ve been addressed if he’d consulted with Chinese writers and wheelchair-using writers before going straight to giving the Toymaker weird fake accents and making Davros walk?

How many Black or non-white people do we think saw the Dot and Bubble script before it landed in Ncuti’s hands?

And this just keeps happening.

And like, from some of the shocked responses I've seen from white viewers to the ending of Dot and Bubble, maybe the episode's unsubtlety was needed? From the way RTD talks about it in Unleashed, the episode was written with a white audience in mind, Baby's First Microaggressions (where of course the microaggressions come from people who are pretty self-admittedly white supremacists). Ricky September, a more seemingly normal depiction of someone in the racist bubble of Finetime, seemed like an interesting element, up until the way he died.

The ending worked for me, because I do think the Doctor's reaction is true to how the Doctor would react. I just keep thinking of how much better the core themes could've been handled by someone with actual lived experience on the subject matter.

#dot and bubble #fifteenth doctor #rtd critical #anti rtd #ricky september #lindy pepper bean #dw negativity #racism #antiblackness #words by seaweed #not to be anti rtd. im just very critical. Anti RTD is just a tag which people use or block #every showrunner has their flaws but RTD is the only one self-righteously virtu signling over NOTHING. which is why im more critical.#plus the on-set sxual hrassment and what happened with Chris Eccleston etc. it vindicates me. idk. not tryna be a hater #ALSO dot and bubble is leaps and bounds better than any racism commentary I expected from Russell T Davies. so theres that.#can you tell I'm shy abt making long posts that someone is likely gonna be not happy about-#I usually search tumblr for posts to rb and talk in tags. but I couldnt find any posts about this this morning! tho I think ppl have since #etc its fine to critically appreciate imperfect media etc I do it all the time (as a Black fan) (who also thinks Rosa has Flaws) etc #I did see someone on twitter pointing out the hypocrisy of all white writers but twitter does not have space to talk about things #also love that The Church on Ruby Road has Mark Tonderai who became the first black director w The Ghost Monument. I love his directing #but that's the Christmas special. it is not part of this season. and honestly fr it's not close to enough #love the inclusivity in front of the camera. lets get some of that in the writing team NOW. it's hurting for it.#bring back Charlene James. can you hear me? was the best episode of Season 12.#the ep felt like a commentary on the “RIP Doctor Who” ppl under every official Doctor Who post? hence social media?#it does work best that way!! it just felt a little off of that way in rtd talking #idk im rambling. I did enjoy it tho. I just wish. but well.

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