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greenglowinspooks · 6 months

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(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 4)

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Tw: descriptions of body horror, Dr. Crane has PTSD and Does Not Realize, Crane has an actual panic attack and just doesn’t care, the Riddler makes one (1) sex joke about Batman

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) (Prev here) - (Pt. 5 here)

(Masterlist here)

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Dr. Jonathan Crane is in his lab, the acrid scent of chemicals filling the air, and his hands are shaking.

Danny’s health, for the first week that he had him, had been steadily improving at an extremely quick rate. However, his healing had begun to stagnate. Danny said that it was because his body had run out of ectoplasm, and that while there was a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham, he needed a stronger type in order to heal.

And so, that led Dr. Crane here.

He had stolen the research notes from the Penguin years ago regarding his experimentation on him.

(He quite vividly remembers the sound of bone creaking and groaning as it twisted, lengthened. The squelching of shifting tendons and muscles, the strange fabric-like tightening of skin. The feeling of going from man to monster, of losing all claim to his humanity.)

Danny had called him Liminal, part ghost. He had said that he was transformed by, among other things, a kind of synthetic ectoplasm.

Danny needed ectoplasm.

Crane had the research notes. He had every ingredient necessary. And yet, attempt after attempt failed.

The chemical smell burns his nose. His hands tremble.

Dr. Crane is not afraid.

He doesn’t feel fear anymore. He’s tried to, many, many times, but nothing has worked. And yet, his hands are shaking still.

(The horrifying sensation of vertebrae pop-pop-popping along his spine, growing and lengthening. The unbearable itching beneath his skin as toxin glands begin to form. The feeling of his teeth sharpening and elongating, of his skull growing, of his vision changing and brightening. The awful stench of chemicals. The awful stench of ectoplasm.)

Jonathan takes careful note of his shaking hands, his blurring vision, his accelerated heart-rate and shallow breathing.

(Human hands. Human vision. Human heart and lungs and organs.)

He takes note of them, but he does not let that distract him from the task at hand. Danny is not a chemist, but Jonathan is.

The boy knows enough about chemistry in theory, but he won’t go anywhere near Crane’s equipment. He seems to have some sort of intense fear of laboratory settings, probably developed during his stay with the GiW, and Crane is willing to respect that, if only because he cannot afford to lose him.

As such, Crane is the only one qualified to do this. And, unfortunately, if he isn’t successful the boy may very well die.

He heats the chemicals to precisely the right temperatures, adding each one to its correct container.

Dr. Crane thinks of the Scarebeast, that creature born of cruelty and greed and a sense of superiority. That creature which he tries to ignore is a part of him, that can never be removed. A damage which cannot be undone.

He pours the contents of a small beaker into a larger flask, watching the liquids swirl together. The stench in the air is becoming closer and closer to the one burned into his memory.

Crane’s whole body is wracked with unpleasant sensations. It’s truly unfortunate, he thinks, that despite his mind’s lack of fear, his body still reacts so harshly.

Jonathan’s eyes wander, eventually settling on a purple and green card sitting innocently on the corner of the table.

Right.

Even if they wiped out the GiW tomorrow, and even if Danny could survive without ectoplasm, he would still be in danger.

Crane has to get him back to good health. It’s the only way he can be sure that the boy can defend himself properly.

The solution in the flask begins to foam, and Jonathan does not hesitate as he adds the final ingredient. He pours the mixture into a new container, capping it and placing it into a freezer set to -40 degrees.

Hopefully this time he got the timing right.

Jonathan tries to relax, the ventilation in the room slowly but surely clearing the familiar smell from the air.

He thinks of the letter.

Surely, he thinks, that man can come up with some better material for his jokes. Or, at least something new.

Same old threats, same old attempted poisoning.

Aiming his threats at Danny, though, that was new. New and utterly unacceptable.

Scarecrow did what he had to.

He doubted that his solution would last forever, of course, as with that man it never did. As such, he would prepare both himself and Danny for the inevitable moment that his choices came back to bite them.

However, for the moment, they were safe. Danny could rest and recover, and Jonathan could figure out a plan to minimize possible damages.

Jonathan is no longer shaking.

He’s exhausted. This is his fifth attempt today, and each one leaves an unfortunate strain on his mind and body.

With a sigh, he settles himself into his seat at a nearby desk, opening up his computer and logging his most recent attempt. He still has to wait for it to chill to know if it was successful, but he can always update the logs later.

Once he’s done, he stretches, joints popping loudly as he walks to the freezer.

When he sees the results of his tireless work, the ghost of a smile flits across his face.

Success.

Jonathan picks up the jug of ectoplasm and leaves the lab, which is in all actuality the basement of the new apartment that he moved himself and Danny into after receiving the note. The scrappy old woman who was his landlord had told him that as long as he paid her five hundred dollars up front, she would let him set up in the basement without any questions or cop calls.

And so, the most expensive apartment in the Narrows was his.

At least, he thought, the distance between the basement and the apartment was short enough that Danny didn’t have to sit in while he was doing his labwork.

Jonathan knew that he didn’t exactly have a strong grasp on the concept of ‘lab safety,’ proven by his built-up immunity to almost every toxic chemical he’d ever encountered, and he doubted that Danny should be around such an environment.

He was back to the apartment quickly, not bothering to hide the self-satisfied smile on his face. Danny is sitting in his armchair, trying to read one of his books. Danny looks up, ready to greet him, when he sees the jug in his hands and pauses.

“Is that..?”

“Synthetic ectoplasm,” Jonathan says proudly, “I found the Penguin’s research notes and decided to recreate it, since you said that you needed it to heal properly. I’m not sure if it’ll work the same as what you usually have, but I hope it’s helpful all the same.”

Danny is standing, now, and looking at Jonathan with a strange look in his eyes. He looks, Jon thinks, like he’s about to cry.

Then Danny is rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Jonathan, his scrawny form shaking.

Jonathan is, for a moment, horrified. Did he do something wrong somehow? Why is this child, who’s so afraid of touch, hugging him?

And then he hears Danny’s voice, and he knows that it was all worth it.

“Thank you,” he’s mumbling, over and over, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Jonathan says softly, because what else can he say?

The boy cries in his arms for a while, and Jonathan briefly wonders what his life must have been like before, if a person like him can be seen as a comforting figure.

Then, Danny pours himself a small glass of the synthetic ectoplasm, putting the rest into the small fridge which had come with the apartment, and he settles back down, sitting in the armchair once again.

Jonathan sits opposite of him, and they chat with one another as Danny drinks.

Danny talks to him about the stars and tells him about different spaceships, and Jonathan makes sure to pay attention and ask the boy questions.

He doesn’t miss the way that Danny lights up every time he asks him something about his interests. He’s so passionate, so smart, a trait that he seldom sees outside of his fellow rogues, and Jonathan wants to encourage that.

It’s…nice. Peaceful, almost.

And then the front door flies open, because Jonathan isn’t allowed to have nice things.

“Jon,” a familiar voice rings out, “what the hell?!”

Danny is frozen in place, clearly terrified.

Jonathan heaves a sigh, turning to face the nuisance who’s entered his apartment.

“Eddie,” he drawls, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Edward’s face is red with anger as he invades Jonathan’s apartment.

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that you sent a bunch of rogues a cryptic message and then dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks! I was worried, Jon!”

Jonathan hums in acknowledgement.

“I didn’t think it was that cryptic,” he says, picking up a book in order to pointedly ignore the Riddler.

“Oh, of course you didn’t, you straw-stuffed hickory dickory dickhead. I swear, you’re always—” he pauses, finally having noticed Danny sitting opposite of Jonathan, “—who is this?”

“My apprentice,” Jonathan replies, dreading the upcoming headache he was no doubt going to develop from Edward’s company, “he’s helping me hunt down the GiW. His name is Danny.”

Edward gasps dramatically.

“You—an apprentice?! And you’re letting him sit in the old man chair?! You don’t even let me sit in the old man chair,” he wails, draping himself over the headrest of the couch with a flourish, “Jonathan, I thought I knew you!”

“Edward,” Jonathan says, “get out of my apartment.”

“Oh my goodness, this is incredible. You’re becoming the bat!”

“I am not becoming the bat, Eddie, now get out.”

Edward has a shit-eating grin on his face as he waltzes over to Danny. Danny, who seemed terrified when he first appeared, is now looking at him with obvious amusement written all over his face.

“I mean, look at him! The hair, the eyes, the scrappy build. If you put him in one of those traffic light vigilante costumes, he could easily pass as a Robin!”

“I’m not doing this with you today, Eddie.”

“Riddle me this, Jon: I am a treasure hidden inside of a chest. You can break me, or steal me, or give me a rest. I can flutter, or pound, or attack, or drop, but if you don’t have me, you’re certainly fucked. What am I?”

Jonathan pauses for a moment before he groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“Eddie.”

Danny sits still, a confused look on his face as he repeats the riddle silently. Then, his face lights up in delight.

“A heart!”

“Jon, I like this one,” Edward says with a smile, ruffling Danny’s hair, “you are correct! A heart, something that I wasn’t aware that our dear Jonathan had!”

“Eddie, stop.”

“No, no,” Edward says, “I was worried about you, you deserve this. I mean, you even missed girls night! You never miss girls night!”

“Girls night?” Danny asks, absolutely delighted.

“Oh, of course,” Edward says, sprawling over on the couch, dangerously close to just laying in Jonathan’s lap, “we have it once a week. I’m invited because of Selina and Jon’s invited because Harley likes him.”

“And what does girls night entail, exactly?”

“Eddie,” Jonathan groans, “please.”

“Well,” Edward hums, “we usually paint our nails, or watch a movie, or gossip about the other rogues, and occasionally, we tell each other about any ‘encounters’ we have with Batman,” he says, raising his eyebrows up and down.

Danny’s jaw drops.

“Edward, shut up,” Jonathan says, an irritated tone in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“No way,” Danny says, “I thought that Batman, like, hated you guys or something. You mean he actually..?”

“Oh, the Bat is much like a bottle of liquor or a cheap cigarette, in that he was made to be passed around.”

Danny chokes on air.

“Edward Nygma,” Jonathan hisses, getting out of his seat and looming over the man, “get the hell out.”

Edward pales.

“Leaving, leaving!” Edward says, dashing away from Jonathan. He pauses, turning to flash Danny a quick smile.

“Remember Danny, I’m your favorite uncle! Not any of the other rogues, me!”

With that, he leaves, the room falling completely silent.

And, as per usual, that silence does not last.

“You full-named him?” Danny asks gleefully, “and it worked?”

Jonathan just sighs, sitting down on the couch and rubbing at his temples.

“Please, don’t take anything Eddie says seriously. He’s a moron.”

“Dr. Crane, please let me come to girls night with you,” Danny pleads, his eyes sparkling, “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”

Jonathan groans.

“Of course you won’t, Eddie will do it for you.”

“Come on, please?”

“I think we’re a bit busy with the GiW at the moment,” Jonathan snaps. He pauses as he notices the crestfallen expression on Danny’s face.

This boy is going to be the death of him.

“Perhaps, though, when all that is taken care of…”

Danny cheers, grinning wildly, and Jonathan is not at all relieved to see him happy again. Certainly not.

The rest of the day is relatively normal.

Danny works on trying to get information from the GiW database while Crane refines his his fear toxin, both preparing for a raid on the GiW base they located in Gotham.

It was only a temporary base, nothing of note, but there was a chance of discovering more bases through it, and that wasn’t something either of them were willing to give up.

Still, something like this would take time. Rushing would only lead to failure.

…

Late in the night, long after Danny is fast asleep in his room, Jonathan pauses.

The GiW are not the only threat out there. They aren’t the only threat to him or to Danny. Perhaps it could be helpful to reach out to someone with greater resources than himself.

He sends a quick message to Red Hood.

Hopefully, he thinks, everything will go smoothly.

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#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp fic #liminal scarecrow #Jon’s PTSD is triggered by the smell of ectoplasm because his life is a nightmare #HDJFNDNDNFKDJF #I am the master of emotional whiplash #rip Jon just trying to have some peace in this fucking house #never gonna happen king 🫡#oh also Eddie is not lying that bat can manwhore #and like half the rogues in Gotham know this from experience #and also most of the JL #and some of JL dark #btw Eddie and Jon are besties #they’re both awful but they make it work #when Jon full-names Eddie that just means that if he doesn’t stop whatever he’s doing he’s gonna get a dose of fear toxin #Eddie isn’t intimidating enough to full-name anyone so if he gets mad he just bashes whoever in the head with his cane #Jon is the living embodiment of ‘me and my girl don’t argue she bash me in the head with a rock and I walk it off like a man’#also side note I’m not doing any ships in this #because I don’t want to #they are just Like That #if you wanna read it that way though it’s completely fine #also shoutout 2 that one scriddler fic on ao3 that helped inspire that riddle LMAO

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beatcroc · 1 year

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there's no way the bathroom at peppino's pizza is actually that big but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . hey ummm anyway.... i care them...... anyway there's a lil ramble on my take on fake pep's like psyche or whatever in tags on the og post if ur into that kinda thing :y

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise] [noisette] [peppino]<- u are here [gustavo] [gerome] [noisette again]

#ramble after realtags yeag. shoutout to serrangelic btw suggesting the silhouettes thing bc i would have Died otherwise #pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #fake peppino #gustavo and brick #arting #pizzaposting #so anyway i think fake peppino has like. a general awareness that he is supposed to Be Peppino and that he was Made to do that #and likewise he does generally try to...do that. the thing he does NOT realize is hes like really goddamn bad at it #not to be mean but like...c'mon. they are pretty distinctly different kinds of guys even beyond the physiology yknow.#he's neither on-brand nor fooling anyone dsjdsjjkgfsd. BUT!#since the rest of the cast generally likes him [at least as I play it] he thinks hes doing just fine #he's like 'oh they r happy with me so i must be getting a good grade in being peppino :)'#so getting told that 'yeah you actually really suck at that but that was never the reason people liked you'#and told that by og model peppino no less--yknow THE guy he's supposed to be living up to #who's already a bit intimidating for that and who ALSO totally wrecked him TWICE in the tower #making him acutely familiar with just how formidable the guy is and how much there IS to live up to....#it's a Moment for sure. not really a sad or hurt one though. just... contemplative.#thinking abt people liking him for being the guy he's already naturally been being even though that guy is Not Peppino #i don't think he's gonna be super broken up about realizing he has a bad grade in peppino given everything else hes got now #nor do i really think he cares enough to go like reinvent himself or whatever after the fact #he seems to b pretty clearly having fun with it already so i think he just keeps doing that #and in some cases he still has the pre-installed peppino traits/instincts like to cooka da pizza. and that's fine #is this projection. yes. but if youve been following me awhile you know most of my character writing is ghdhfdgf #gonna kinda expand on all this in the gerome one which is...one after next. itll be a bit but man.#anyway peppino will never admit to anyone and especially not himself that he's gotten a little attached to the guy. hee hoo #pep tends to be kinda surly but he certainly has his ways of showing he cares. all of which are on display here #''that thing is not my son'' says man currently watching thing's antics with the 'bemused dad' arms crossed pose. yeah ok buddy.#gus is totally onto him already but hes not gonna say anything.#if u read all this ur prize is not having to go decode fp's rot13. his lines are ''meant to be you...?'' and ''wrong question.''

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itsrydagain · 9 months

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#tim drake #red robin #kon el #conner kent #superboy #timkon #rydsart #i will prob clean this #eventually;;;#i had a hard time picking which uniform(?) to draw tim in #bc i like the latest robin design bc it's very skater boy-esque #but the red robin cowl one is very devimon-core #to me <3 #he just needs to add an unnecessary amount of belts to look like a digimon #also thinking about how in the 2 timkons ive drawn it's them carrying each other #also both of them unrendered bc doing the line art intimidated me 💀💀💀

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rhinoclip · 3 months

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What we expected vs. what we got

#me contributing to the hazbin hotel fandom #sorry these were just my thoughts #he looks so intimidating when in reality he’s… just so tiny….#hazbin hotel #hazbin #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel memes #hazbin memes #hazbin hotel lucifer

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stuckinapril · 4 months

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me stoically navigating my way through drama bc bigger things are ahead and it’s not my fault people are dumb

#kissed a guy at a kickback and thought we caught a vibe only to find out he just wants to fuck me. next #friend’s bf of 7 years drunkenly hit on me at the same kickback (I was not ok w this). they ended up beefing over me. he denied everything.#do I want to be involved in this? no. and so I simply ignore it and keep it pushing #and the guy I kissed is cancelled. like he is dead to me. so that’s also taken care of #it’s back to studying full-time for the mcat #going to the gym/taking walks daily #volunteering at the refugee center + clinic #getting published in orgo research papers #and trying to snag the opportunity to shadow doctors at a massive cancer research center. like I’d kill for it #december was such a mess but I’ve finally made peace w the fact that most of the stuff that happened I couldn’t prevent #but I’ve mourned it enough !! whatever drama comes out of it I’ll handle just fine #i literally want to be a multitasking academic weapon everyone is intimidated of this year #i am not letting something as puny as a dumb man (both of them btw) stop me. goodbye #also everyone involved is older than me (they’re both 23) but it all just feels like such high school behavior #this is not a euphoria episode like I’m literally just not entertaining any of this #had to get this off my chest. i feel better #p

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questionablealibi · 6 months

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//TW//

Multiple eyes, eye contact

Can someone watch over my middle aged humanoid man while i go to school thank you

Please dont let them out of your sight

#Ill still be posting the comics and doodles (((AND A THING FOR AN ASK HRHRRH))) i have postponed eventually ^^;#Rather busy month we have here huh /lh #Had to mute my discords im sorry for thise who have been messaging! ><#Pinging is vv wlecomed but my phone has this thing where it doesnt send me notifs >:(#Despite having notifs on for the app itself #So im incredibly sorry if im not able to see your messages!#I hope you lot have been doing alright!#alibi!#tspud #tsp #the stanley parable #tsp narrator #tspud narrator #HEY a front profile!!#Didnt think id make one so soon /lh #Dont be intimidated he just looks like That

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mandalhoerian · 1 year

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leon kennedy + love languages analysis

It’s in Leon’s job description to help and serve, he’s always out there chasing bioweapons and their makers to save others or doing the bidding of his higher-ups — it’s all in the name of the right thing and out of his strong sense of justice. It doesn’t matter if he’s in an overbearing mission breathing down his neck in utmost priority, he will stop and try his best to help out a random citizen as you can see in RE6. He does also state in RE2 remake that helping people in need was why he chose his occupation, be it in his emo era too, Leon just can’t look away from innocent bystanders. Accepting to look for Claire’s brother when he just met her that night, and also the inability to leave Ada alone in the maze of the sewer he has no idea how to solve the puzzle to, and agreeing to whatever Helena wanted to show him when he was so suspicious of her because she was distraught and clearly in need of something are just some examples of this.

He helps however he can, whenever he can; he also expresses great concern for the wellbeing of others before his own as it’s his main drive in life. Leon’s a man of duty and selfless in nature, the only time he’s done anything for himself was when he wanted to chase the trail of bioweapons in Eastern Slav Republic instead of pulling back like he was ordered to, and even that was work.

Therefore we can say acts of service is his primary love language, so much so you would want him to take a break from it.

Leon really doesn’t look after himself.

His go-to self-destruction method is to indulge in alcohol to deal with his problems and drink away his feelings instead of seeking help. Maybe he doesn’t believe in getting help in his field of work (nobody has gone through what he has, and seen what he’s seen, and maybe he doesn’t want to bother people with any of it), but he does shut himself off and ignores his problems — doesn’t ask for help, at all.

In Damnation, he pushes Hunnigan away when she tries to explain the situation to him and nonchalantly dissolves the conversation when she’s afraid he’s going to take off. In Vendetta, he’d rather fight Chris and put on a sarcastic demeanor than to express vulnerability when he clearly needs someone to be his confidant. He doesn’t want to share his burden, but will relentlessly pressure you to share yours.

With his significant other, he would want to take on the weight of whatever’s on you regardless — from mundane things around the house like cleaning, fixing things, preparing breakfast so you can sleep a little bit more and being a great giver in bed to grander gestures like taking a bullet for you and becoming mean to you in order to keep you away from harm’s way (like he did with Claire at the end of Infinite Darkness, he lost his friendship with her but it kept her safe). Leon will go above and beyond to make life better and easier for you, but he is obsessed with your safety first and foremost.

However, you will have problems with getting him to open up like I mentioned previously, he deals with his problems on his own and he won’t want to trouble you with whatever he’s going through at the moment — with the plus of his job being mostly confidential, it’s a struggle to help him when the most of his suffering comes from the loss and trauma that comes with it.

It makes him emotional that you help in other areas though, when you clean up his place at times he is away for a long time, when you make a homemade meal cooked just for him, or when you offer to give him shoulder massages seeing as he’s extremely tired. He isn’t used to being taken care of, and part of him feels guilty, but he’s so appreciative and happy someone cares for him this much.

Leon moves around quite often and is rarely at his place of residence, so he doesn’t spend a lot of time at home. Therefore, even when his place screams how fat his salary is from the outside, his house is not a home, it doesn’t have a lot in it and is basically empty like a ghost is living in it. And again, with being an agent comes the practicality of not having a lot on you so you can be more flexible, but it’s almost as if it reflects how little he thinks of his life and has nothing to leave behind if he dies on duty.

He even has two default outfits, first is anything he can throw on himself (preferably jeans) with a leather jacket and the second is the agent outfit, which is just a suit (button-up shirts grew on him over the years.) He isn’t someone who treats himself aside from alcohol and he doesn’t care much for luxuries — the only materialistic things that could excite him were a bike and a bazooka, and both were found by him randomly and were tools to help him in action.

What he chooses to own, though, are high in quality. His RE4 outfit has Schott’s Classic B-3 Sheepskin Leather Bomber Jacket is $1495 USD. He also drove to Racoon City in a Jeep that he had to abandon. Being rich makes you this carefree, huh?

He has a lot more than he can spend, therefore I believe he would happily spend it on his significant other. Leon would be the type of guy who buys something out of nowhere because it reminded him of you, or that he saw you looking at it, maybe it was a chocolate bar, or maybe some random scented candle you thought looked sick. He loves seeing you surprised and delighted, and thinking of your space having the traces of him makes him happy — makes him feel the bond is more concrete and tangible. He’s a giver, so it’s only natural he gives presents too.

Now, receiving gifts from you is another level of joy for him. Leon wouldn’t have thought he cared much about things like that but the thought. The idea of you thinking this much of him and putting your heart into it, there’s something intimate in it that has him feeling so important. Owning things you gave him has a special place in his heart, and he will take great care of them. Maybe he still has the wrapper of some ribbon from a package in his drawer, who’s to say? It’s the carnal desire to hold onto the proof of your existence, perhaps.

Leon has absolutely no time at all for himself, and in his days off, they keep pulling him back for some unexpected emergency. His schedule is unpredictable. In RE4, he does say “Story of my life,” when Hunnigan reminds him that he’s on duty right now after he flirts with her. Then later, he reminds her that it was them who pulled him out of furlough for this when she tells him to fall back on his Eastern Slav Republic mission. Leon rarely gets any break from bioweapon fighting and over the years, the exhaustion has taken a toll on him, the only constant is chaos in his life, he scarcely can spare any mundane moments to his acquaintances as he barely has any time for himself.

Quality time though, as he lacks so much of it, is something he yearns for deep down. I mean, hello, the way he wanted that dinner with Claire in Infinite Darkness? He really really wanted her company, and to catch up with her. He asked Shenmei as well. It's a crime that nobody accepted his requests, someone go get dinner with him right now.

It’s because he can’t spend time with people that he wants it so badly in the first place. That’s where he is also self-destructive and it’s a double-edged sword. He seeks company of flirtations because he’s lonely, yet he won’t pursue anything serious. He’s scared of committing to someone since it won’t work due to complications and the distance, it’ll get messy.

He even deprives himself of friendships and is unwilling to let anyone get too close. Leon is an isolationist, yet he needs people in his life to process his trauma and grief and bully him about his drinking habits but keeps denying himself the company.

And then there’s the fear of losing that person. He doesn’t spend any time getting close to people, he treasures the companions he has, but everybody is at an arm’s length. He already reacts so negatively to the deaths of allies he barely got to know briefly — Ada messed him up real good, too. How do you think he feels imagining what he could have had with her? He wants stability and settling, but Ada is anything but that. He chases every interaction to be longer, seeks her company just for their meeting to be stretched even by minutes. Leon gets attached so easily, and he deprives himself of time with them out of being scared by it. One part of him must be comfortable in his love for her because it’ll never become a reality, because she’ll never take him up to it, he’d rather take the suffering than the happiness.

But quality time also is so important to him because it’s in these times of ordinary domesticity that he can find normalness outside the crazy undead shit he has to deal with. It helps him recharge and he craves having this to come back to.

He would feel so guilty about not being able to be with his significant other, he could even forget important days and miss important moments of your life and he wouldn’t even know most of the time because he’s just so occupied and in survival mode for a while after he comes back. You would have to be understanding of his situation and forgiving, too, it’s not up to him whatever he gets called in for, and because you wouldn’t know what it was, it’s a great deal of practicing patience, and that’s why it’s hard being in a relationship with Leon. Hell, it’s the base reason why couples break up; the guy is inattentive and negligent and the girl breaks it off in the end. In this scenario, zombies are involved.

You can only get the peaceful moments inbetween with him. And it has to be enough, and believe that he hates going away as much as you do and more.

Leon hates being praised. He dislikes being heralded as some legend for getting out of Racoon City alive and his experiences ultimately leading him to rescuing the president’s daughter only to be elevated in praise more.

He was just at the wrong place at the right time. He got lucky, ended up trailing behind Ada who was competent at what she did and reached the root of the problem just because he happened to run into her — it wasn’t him, it was just stars aligning. Pure coincidence.

Leon sometimes thinks he didn’t deserve making it out, but he did anyway, and now this life of his belongs to a purpose, the purpose.

He’s just doing his job. One shouldn’t be applauded for doing their job.

Compliments make him uncomfortable and it’s the easiest way to make him clamp up on a conversation, he’ll vehemently deny whatever it is and change the subject. It looks like Leon’s being humble (he is), but there’s a deeper reason with an underlying imposter syndrome going on in the back of his mind. He just doesn’t feel worthy some days.

Affirmations on the other hand also don’t come easy, he’s in one of the most coldly professional fields and it’s strictly business, and he is emotionally constipated and deeply traumatized, therefore there’s a lot he doesn’t say and he doesn’t know how to say, and he is bad at telling you what he wants. He’s good at sass and banter, but ask him to tell you about his nightmares and he’ll just hug you and go back to sleep.

Leon isn’t used to expressing affection through words either, and prefers to show it instead. You’ll know he loves you even if he doesn’t say it outright. But with his significant other, though, he’ll do his best to learn to be more affectionate with words to you to show his appreciation — just prepare for shy and awkward Leon. The soft side of him comes out this way, he’ll hesitantly ask you to stay and he’ll look so young doing it that it’ll melt your heart.

Leon is one touch-starved poor bastard.

Here’s the reason why: he’s a pretty lonely guy but he’d rather indulge in the warmth of a person than letting them in. Solitude is a personal preference of his, and it leads him to seeking out temporary companionship to feed this part of his. Meaningless one-night stands are a go-to of his, as they mean no deeper connection but all the skin to skin contact and the soothing heat beside him. If he’s lucky, his partner would pet his head during the deed, or caress his face, now those are the treat.

If he could just let go and the perfect opportunity arose, he would just lie in the arms of his significant other for hours being hugged by them, enveloped in the coziness, head empty and fuzzy. Those would be the perfect naps he needed, because wow does this guy not sleep well.

It would be a first for him to get affectionate touches coming with a friendship as well, it’s been a lifetime since he let himself be that way with someone, it’s not easy to get him to be chummy and lighthearted with you in that aspect. He’s a well-mannered guy too, so he’s the type to keep a respectable distance even when he’s being playful. Half-hugs, back pats and handshakes are the best you’re going to get as his friend, and they don’t happen often.

The clinginess blooms well into the relationship after Leon gets comfortable with exploring that childish, neglected part of his. He would adore hugs, hand-holding, reaching out to grab you casually while sitting next to you in the confines of your private space, you would feel his love through him seeking you out for comfort voluntarily and lowering his serious exterior to be relaxed around you. His utmost weakness is you playing with his hair and tracing his face with your fingers, because he goes out like a light almost immediately.

Leon also won't be rough with you physically while bonking so don't expect playfighting and do not hit him while joking around, he gets thrown around and hurt so much as it is (the amount of being strangled by tyrants and plagas? no, he's not into choking), and he tends to be extremely tender and sweet. Though you might discover a pretty interesting side of him if you decide to be assertive and take care of him in bed, you might just get addicted to how shy he could get.

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#leon kennedy #leon s. kennedy #leon kennedy headcanons #leon s. kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon x ada #resident evil headcanons #leon kennedy x you #im adding the reader tag even though this is very leon-centric because i can #who's gonna stop me #leon needs a hug #and all the affection he can get #this is just a very long post about his loneliness and isolation #Honestly Leon's that pretty intimidating guy who turns out to be so sweet and respectful and i want him #god i love this guy i just want to wrap him in a blanket and give him a break #shai talks #character: leon kennedy

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yo-yo-yoshiko · 2 days

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His insurance premiums must be outrageous.

And pencils and inks!

#kiramager #mashin sentai kiramager #super sentai #Carantula #thought to myself... 'lets ink something ambitious'#this scan's kinda rough but he looks incredible in person!! if i do say so...#i used markers instead of colored ink this time cause i wanted the green too... and it turns out those get scanned weird #but i love Crunchy aaahah! he's great #guys that make me point at the screen and say 'ME'#(there are two of them in that show lol)#he just wants to make his horrible little guys and destroy humanity #but mostly just make his horrible little guys lol #sigh.... i kind of wanna do a new kiramei red ink drawing for my little superhero wall but...#his helmet intimidates me lmao!

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starry-bi-sky · 8 months

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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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