#familiar emotions

[criiitter]

find me in the future.

[splatlandian-octoling]

Have you ever had a conversation with someone that just makes you want to fight to the death to protect them? I don't know why, but I seem to have those a lot nowadays.

Could just be me being crazy, who knows.

[mevil]

this silly little extra really cements the idea in my head that falin’s chimera form incorporates a cockatoo like marcille’s old pet pipi having been around some growing up they really always used to be covered in feather dander it would feel ridiculous at times

[deadsetobsessions]

AU of my Gotham/Tim Drake! Danny where Danny doesn’t know any knowledge beforehand about the DC universe.

Danny doesn’t know how he got here, but the fact that he now shares something in common with Vlad other than their technical halfa status disgusts him

His new name is Timothy Jackson Drake. It’s so far removed from Danny that his parents had him examined for deafness because he didn’t respond to it. He got better at it, at putting on the mask Janet and Jack Drake wanted to see. So they took him to the circus.

He meets Dick Grayson. Danny thinks the kid is adorable, even if Danny himself is technically younger. He sees the flying Graysons fall. The buzzing in his head doesn’t go away.

He’s five, when the fading spirit of Gotham reaches out and pleads her King to protect her city in her stead. She is fading. He says yes, because she’s one of his. The buzzing in his head settles and oh because that’s what’s been missing this entire time. Danny didn’t have a haunt and Gotham gave him one.

He grieves when she dies, the new title settling around small shoulders, and the city grieves with him. In the city proper, Batman and Robin are having the worst night of their lives in the sudden storm.

He’s nine. Robin is Dick Grayson. Dick Grayson, in turn, is an idiot. Batman… well, he’s at least mentoring and protecting the child vigilante, which is more than Danny ever had. He grows fond of them. How could he not, when they tried their hardest to help his city? To help him?

He shows himself, to the duo, in his Phantom form. It’s still him, still modeled after Danny Fenton’s face instead of Tim Drake’s. Ghosts are a reflection of the soul, after all.

“Who are you,” Batman demands, shielding Robin with half a step.

“Gotham.” He replies. Danny wills the city to affirm his claim and the city wraps its arms around the vigilantes. Batman and Robin understands, a deep well of pure knowledge being tapped into in ways they weren’t truly meant to understand.

“…How?”

“Magic,” Phantom says, dry. He tells them of city spirits, and that they can call him in times of dire need.

Dick calls him to help with Two Face. Two Face learns the pain of unmelting ice to the balls.

His core aches when the Bats fight, but Danny knows now that it is inevitable. They’re part of his haunt, his ‘fraid. He knows these things far before they come into fruition.

Dick moves to a sister city. Phantom expands his haunt to Bludhaven because he doesn’t, won’t, ever leave his Robins to themselves.

Nightwing is hopeful, is pleasantly surprised, and very suspicious when he shows up during patrol.

“Gotham…? What are you doing here…? This isn’t, well, Gotham?”

“Satellite City. It is an extension of myself. You were Robin, yes. You’re Nightwing, now. But that doesn’t mean I won’t protect you when I can.”

Phantom goes back, and finds a kid trying to steal tires to make a living. He guides his Knight to him. The starved features, the bones Danny could see, it tugs at his core. It feels like the Ancient of Fate themselves were pulling him along.

“How’d you know I was taking the wheels?”

“Gotham.”

“Are you… high on shrooms or something?”

Bruce sighs. Batman asks Gotham to meet the new Robin, and chuckles when Jason is surprised by the glowing green figure.

Phantom hides this Robin just as much as the last one. He curls shadows around his vigilantes, sometimes at the same time, and softens what little sounds they made while stalking through his city for crime.

He makes small jokes with Jason. Danny forgets, a little, the crushing loneliness of being Timothy Drake.

“I didn’t kill Garzona!”

“You-”

Batman stops as a chill he’s never had experienced directed at him weaves around his neck. An angry Gotham.

“He didn’t kill him.” Danny slides a cold hand on Jason’s shoulders.

But the damage had been done and the next day, Batman is begging Danny to tell him any clues of where Jason had gone.

“Ethiopia.”

He clears the way for Batman to get to Robin. He clears the way for Bruce to get to Jason.

He’d fallen into the trap of believing that Batman would handle everything when in the end, he’s just a man in a mantle that demands more than he ever thought he’d have to pay.

Robin is dead and Danny grieves. The skies crack open and pours a torrent of smogged rain water upon the streets of Gotham. Despite that, Crime Alley is untouched by flood. They say the second Robin was protecting his home.

In a way, it’s not wrong.

Gotham fishes Batman from the bay, carelessly tossing the broken Joker against a shipping container.

“You can’t keep doing this. You’ll die.”

Bruce, Batman, lays on his back, eyes glazed and empty. “Maybe I want to.” He admits. And Danny can’t lose someone else. It’s already bad enough he feels the death of everyone in his city, he can’t lose him too. But Dick won’t come back. He already denied Gotham when Phantom had asked him to come back. Granted, Dick was nervous about denying him the entire time, but Danny realized that he’d lost a brother in the colors his parents chose for Dick. Danny- Phantom had cradled Dick in a swaddle of shadows and comfort.

“Alright.”

“Is it? Alright? I- I don’t want to fail you, Gotham.”

“It is. You’ve always made me proud. You will always make me proud. Whether it be by different name, it matters to me not. Stay. Heal.”

Like Dick was given permission, like he received a hint of peace, Dick Grayson crumpled to the floor and sobbed into Gotham’s shoulder.

(Later, long after Dick Grayson realized his little brother was also his city personified, he cries again into Tim’s shoulders after the later dropped a flower pot perfectly on top of Catalina Flores’ head.)

Gotham, Phantom, Danny makes a choice.

“Tomorrow, a child will show up at your door. You will let him in.”

“No- I can’t. I won’t.” He knows what Danny will ask of him.

“You will.” Danny doesn’t ever do it with his people, with his city, but dire times call for dire actions. It is an order. And Batman is Gotham’s knight. “You will. You will train him. You need a Robin to leash your brutality. I need a Robin, for Robin is my hope. The city’s hope. Our people’s hope. Do not forget the goal you have set out to accomplish in my city.”

Batman rages at him, until he falls unconscious from the wounds he’s gathered. Danny brings him home. He tells Alfred what to expect tomorrow. Bruce wakes up, eyes fixated on the crack that appeared on Danny’s neon green face. “Did. Did I do that?”

Danny nods slowly.

Batman crumples into Bruce Wayne. “Okay.” He says. “Alright. Tomorrow.”

Gotham watches him, unreadable. “Tomorrow.” He says, before fading away.

Tim Drake shows up at the door. Nightwing shows up not long after. Tim Drake adapts to Bruce Wayne’s cold looks and brutal training. Slowly, but surely, he leashes in Batman’s grief fueled brutality and less criminals go to prison with half of their lives beaten out of them.

Batman doesn’t see Gotham as much anymore. He feared that he’s angered his city, that he is no longer welcome.

When Tim figures it out… he allows the roads and the shadows to help Batman once more.

Batman stared intently at the extra coverage. “Thank you,” Tim hears him whisper. “I’m sorry.”

And when Jason Todd comes back to life and attacks Tim in the tower, Tim lets Hood beat him. Gotham had failed him, as Jason’s city. He deserves it. (He doesn’t but Danny had gone past the point of being healthy about his own physical wellbeing. Perhaps being a city spirit this long had affected him, even with the King’s title mitigating the worst of the damages.

“HE REPLACED ME!”

“Because I ordered him to.” Tim whispers, past the pain of a broken leg.

“You? Order Batman around? If you’re going to lie, make it a better one, Replacement.”

Tim catches Jason’s wrist, the one holding the knife to Tim’s throat.

“Robin,” he says simply, allowing Gotham to come out and peer at the child that is his.

Jason stares, disbelieving. Gotham had… Gotham had come by and approved of his plans to clean up Crime Alley. Gotham had extracted a promise not to damage the buildings.

“No.”

His city stares back and him and Jason stumbles away. Tim shifts into Danny, into Gotham.

“You…”

“I am Gotham. I- I did not want to wear these colors. They were yours and Dick’s. But Bruce was hurting the city, he was hurting me. So I made sure he stopped.”

Jason stares at the new cracks, the fresh ones he just caused and the old ones he does not remember being on Danny’s ghostly skin.

Jason swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“As am I. I am sorry I was not there to save you. I am sorry that you died.”

Jason stares at him. The Replacement is Gotham. Jason almost destroyed his city.

“I am glad that you’ve returned. That you’re alive, now.”

“…Really?”

“Always.”

Alternative Version of the above Tower Scene:

Jason slides the knife against the Replacement’s neck.

Danny sighs. “I can’t believe I’m dying again.”

Jason pauses. “What the fuck did you just say, Replacement?”

Danny rolls his eyes at him and Jason rethinks his decision of not offing the little fucker right away.

“You think you’re the first one to die in this household? Get a grip. I did it first, way before you did, jackass.”

Tim is 14. He’s a child. What the fuck is Jason doing?

“When…?”

“How do you think I became Gotham, little bird?”

Jason freezes. And then he’s scrambling backwards, the knife flung away in his horror.

Tim shifts into Gotham and Jason bites back a cut of regret and bitterness.

He… no, what? What even is happening?

“Why is the Joker not dead? You… you told me that you loved me. That Gotham… that-”

“I’m cruel, little bird. The Joker would not suffer as much if he were dead.”

“He’s killing people! He’s killing your own!”

“So everyone thinks.”

“What?”

“I am Gotham, little bird. Mass hallucinogenic gasses are so within my reach to the point it is concerning. Perhaps you should help Ivy with the city clean up?”

“Huh?!”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Embrace the truth

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[thattheater-kid]

You know what’s wild about being a fictive? Missing your old life even though it was shitty because it’s a shittiness you were used to. The life you’re living now is a new kind of shitty that feels unpleasant in a different way.

[bionicboxes]

Give the comfort you never got (as seen on TV)

[robinwithay]

i think a lot of people in the fandom have a bad habit of acting as if aziraphale should know everything we, the audience, know about crowley, and that he should therefore be more sympathetic to feelings that aziraphale literally doesn't even know crowley has, because crowley hasn't told him.

[szfiction]

This parallel makes me insane actually (and there is something incredibly Lawlu about it to me)

[f1-stuff]

Beyond The Grid // Chasing Championships in Ferrari Red

[TC] "You've been with Carlos now for four years. What will you miss about him?" [CL] "I think just Carlos, the person. I think we get on very, very well. Unfortunately, with the world as it is now, everything is over-analyzed, over-criticized. But the reality of things is that we always had a really good relationship. Yes, there's been many moments where, inside the helmet, I hated him and he hated me because we didn't view the situation in the same way. But everything was fixed after a discussion between us two... We had a lot of memorable moments that I will...yeah, remember forever."

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 71

Klarion is delighted, excited, impatient, and so very happy. He’s found a friend, not the justice league baby-crew who don’t know how to make friends properly or the order-magician who doesn’t play right, but another realm-being his age! They’re even around the same death-date, his is just a couple years earlier! But to beings who aren’t adults until they’re well into the hundreds that’s practically nothing!

His new friend even has a familiar too- even if he has to explain what a familiar is- and, and even shares his two other friends with him! 

He’s been in this world for what feels like so long trying to make friends and he’s made three in just a month! And they even know how to properly play and wrestle without targeting Teekl like a certain order lord who he doesn’t like. 

Oh! Hey it’s the justice league kiddy-crew! Were they feeling neglected or something?

[varpusvaras]

Clone concept: tubie names.

It's the first name the clones get as tubies, other than their number. Most of the time it is some sort of nickname made up from their numbers, as they are too long to say. Some might keep them (like maybe Fives), most take or get another name at some point.

Tubie names are the names that only your closest brothers use as a form of endearement. Fox gets called Tennie when his brothers want to either annoy him or the situation requires emotional vulnerability.

[shkika]

I call it the Moonie scrunch.

[onyxbird]

Inspired by a gifset of Hardison's "emotionally butt naked" line:

Knowing that it means a lot to Hardison, Eliot makes a point of finding a time to explicitly verbalize his feelings for Hardison and Parker. It's carefully planned, with his "speech" exhaustively worked out and rehearsed in advance (Hardison said emotionally naked, not spontaneous).

It goes without a hitch, despite Eliot feeling extremely self-conscious. Alec is choked up and teary-eyed.

Just as Eliot realizes with horror that he didn't really plan an exit strategy for this and isn't sure how to get them back on an even keel again (preferably without someone dissolving into tears--there are limits to how much "emotional butt-nakedness" Eliot is prepared for right now), Parker interrupts by very solemnly tucking a $100 bill into his shirt pocket.

Both Eliot and Hardison are baffled. Eliot finally asks what she's doing.

"You were getting 'emotionally butt-naked' like Alec wanted, right?"

"...Yeah? What does that have to do with stuffing cash in my--" Eliot stops, suddenly making connections that he's hoping are the wrong ones.

"That's how it's done, isn't it, when someone does a good job at stripping?"

[rqg179]

thinkin about lydia barkrock again i just. she's incredibly important to me both as someone who has chronic pain myself & as someone who grew up with a disabled parent. my mother was diagnosed when i was a toddler, so i don't remember a version of my mum who isn't disabled to some extent, it's just always been a fact of my life. and sure, there are certain things she can't do, and that list has probably gotten longer over the last few years, but she's still my mum, and she raised me, and she did a damn good job of it too. and idk i just. for the most part it's easy to find families that look like mine in fiction, but i'm not sure i've ever seen the medical side of my family in fiction in a way that feels as close to home as lydia & ragh's relationship does. it's just very lovely to see a disabled character who a) is a well-rounded character in and of herself, and b) is a parent, and is explicitly shown to be a good parent to her son

[spookygibberish]

im sorry but i haven't found a definition of anomie that ive understood yet, could you explain it in your own words please?

i dont think i have felt anything like that

I think Anomie can most succinctly be summed up the "We Live in a Society" emotion, at least in my experience. It IS social isolation, and profound alienation, but i feel like those terms don't fully capture what it entails and why it arises. It's a feeling of disconnection arising from the acute awareness of the inconsistencies inherent to living day to day when faced with the greater context of the rest of the world. The flagrant inconsistencies between what is seen and what is known. When I was working in a grocery store It was an overpowering background noise. It's the thing that made me feel in ineffably cold from hearing a chirpy advertisement proclaiming it's National Hot Dog Day on the radio, all while working a miserable barely minimum wage job that increasingly felt like it didn't matter at all despite not actually being a pointless job, just one largely (but not entirely) mechanically divorced from any sense of human connection or community, while knowing that I am American and Safe and knowing what America Is and what America Does and how there's this horrible exterior reality of suffering and death and exploitation feeding every cell in an ecosystem of comfort and discomfort that I have no choice but to exist as a part of, drinking the blood of strangers. But it doesn't matter, it isn't real, it's National Hot Dog Day.