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nellasbookplanet · 2 months ago

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I'm hardly the first to make this observation, but the problem with many self-proclaimed cozy stories is that they're so scared to take risks, scared to do anything that could make the reader even slightly uncomfortable, because being uncomfortable isn’t very cozy. Characters lack in flaws and messiness; conflict is lackluster or quickly resolved or avoided altogether; a darker moment must always be followed by a peptalk, never lingered on; moral ambiguity is eschewed, because anything else would be problematic and messy. If a main character has flaws it’s always those of the good victim, someone who needs to heal and be validated but not grow and be challenged. Challenge, of character or reader, is anathema.

As I'm playing Stray, I'm struck by the thought that this is quite possibly the coziest piece of media I've ever experienced. You're playing as a little kitty cat. You’re carrying around a tiny robot companion in a backpack. Your enemies are tiny white blobs called zorks. There are game mechanics to meow and scratch up people's walls and furniture and knock paint cans off shelves and take naps. The pacing rarely rushes you, rather actively encourages you to slow down. You can stop and listen to a guy play guitar, or look for flowers to gift someone, or take a nap on a cushion while beautiful scenery full of plants and fairy lights roll by.

But it’s also a game set in the ruins of a near dead world. The cute blobs will eat you alive. The robot you're carrying is an uploaded mind earnestly struggling through an existential crisis and mourning an entire species. Under the plants and the fairy lights is garbage and rust and buildings falling apart. There’s no sunlight. There are creepy eyes watching you in the sewers. There’s classism and oppression and the downfall of man.

And through it all, the robots who inherited the world are working so hard to find pockets of hope and happiness. They paint and play music and play games and dance and grow plants and create cozy little homes for themselves. They resist for the sake of freedom and autonomy, they create an entire language, they dream of a world most think they'll never see.

This dichotomy of dark and light is something I see often in (better) cozy media. Dungeon Meshi is a fun cozy adventure where they make delicious food and talk about self-care. It's also about grief and the inevitability of death and the impacts of social inequalities. The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet is a cozy found family road trip in space; it’s also about the difficulties of understanding each other across cultural barriers and the massive ramifications when we refuse to do so. Legends and Lattes is basically a dnd coffeshop au; it’s also about struggling to find happiness and purpose and self-worth after a life of violence, not knowing if you're able to successfully achieve anything but bloodshed. And All the Stars is full of found family and pastries and characters just hanging out; all of this happens as they're hiding and fleeing from invading aliens who see them as nothing but a resurce to be used. One of my favorite episodes of critical role is the beach episode of c2, where they basically just hang out; this happens soon after they buried their friend who died trying to save them, as they're trying to figure out who they are and what they want after his loss.

And that’s the thing, isn't it? Any story that is uniformly the same thing all the way through ends up as bland. A grimdark story that never offers respite or moments of hope will numb you to the horrors, removing their bite. A cozy story that offers nothing to be struggled against, nothing for which cozy moments and aesthetics is a break, lacks impact. A story needs ups and downs, a rhythm of misery and hope.

#nella talks #stray #i finished the game today! really enjoyed it but missed like half the memories lol #so probably gonna replay it soon-ish with a guide or smth to find them all #anyway this is my guide to a writing a good cozy story:#do not shy away from darkness and conflict and messiness. jusy don’t make it the central focus #zoom in on how characters rest and heal and forgive and reach out to each other. slow down and let readers and characters breathe #show exactly what the coziness is a respite from and how and why it matters

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jjanuaryrain · 1 month ago

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More DPxDC, the backstory of how Danny gets to Gotham

A story is slowly coming together in my head but I'm not sure how all the pieces fit yet. Dunno if everything I've posted will go into the same story but I'm just enjoying writing it for now. More under the cut!

Words: 3355

Danny was no stranger to unfortunate circumstances. It could be said that his life was just a series of unfortunate circumstances, actually, each slotted one after the other. This wasn’t much different. Just another piece in the long line of toppling dominoes that was his afterlife.

“Take the reading again,” Tucker demanded in his ear, voice crackly and strained through the Fenton Tech earpiece.

“He’s redone it three times now, Tucker, it’s not going to change just because–” That was Sam’s annoyed drawl from beside him, but she was cut off by Tucker’s insistent voice.

“You have to be doing it wrong. Take it again.”

Danny let his head fall back in frustration where he was hanging weightless in the air over Salem State University, but he didn’t bother arguing. If he didn’t do what Tucker asked, the dude was liable to catch a flight all the way out to Salem to do the damn readings himself. That, or program a drone to do it for him. Both of which were equally undesirable, given what happened the last time Tucker loosed an unidentified aircraft into US airspace. (A half-exploded drone and visit from Homeland Security, that’s what.)

Instead, Danny picked his head back up and dutifully punched the commands into the Foley Ectometer for the 4th time. He waited for the beeps and clicks to stop then checked the reading.

“…It’s still coming through as a 3.6, Tuck. I really don’t think Salem is a viable option.”

“Bullshit, it’s not a viable option!” His friend seethed on the other end of the line. The sounds of furious typing started up again and Danny felt the distinct urge to find a wall to slam his head against. Sam had just gotten him to knock it off. “Salem is the most haunted city in the US outside of Amity based on every metric out there! If that place doesn’t hit a 5, nowhere will.”

Well, wasn’t that just lovely news. Even Salem, Massachusetts didn’t have enough ambient ectoplasm to hit the minimum 5/10 rating, just like the half dozen other cities they’d tested. If Danny wanted to survive longer than a few weeks outside of Amity Park, he’d need to find somewhere that rated at least that. Otherwise, he’d have to spend just as much time in the Realms as he did in the land of the living. Which was not an option at the moment. Not an option at all.

“We could try Gettysburg again,” Danny suggested, once again twirling upside down in the air, but it sounded weak even to his ears. Tucker only replied with a disgusted scoff. He was still clacking away, but Danny knew it was fruitless. Danny had flown to and tested every city in America that Tucker’s ecto-seeking algorithm had come back with. So far, the highest they’d hit was an 8.1 in Pennsylvania… which had actually turned out to be a 1.8 that Danny had read upside down on accident. So Salem was their next best option, but it still fell devastatingly flat.

“Guys, it’s okay, really,” Danny tried. He floated lower toward the green space at the center of Salem’s campus and wound himself invisibly around the branches of a tree. He rested his head on one of the strong boughs and watched as a bird preened its feathers not 2 feet from his face. “I don’t need to go to college outside of Amity. I’m sure an online program will be just as–”

“Oh knock it off, Danny,” Jazz interrupted. She’d been quiet on the call so far, but Danny could occasionally hear her scribbling down notes in the background. Ever since she’d gone off to college, she couldn’t help but treat every situation as a learning experience. And notes were integral to Jazz’s learning. “I don’t care if I have to haunt the city myself – you will be attending a good, four-year college with a strong astronomy program outside of Amity Park. End of discussion.”

Yeah, right. Danny only just stopped himself from laughing in her face. ‘Outside of Amity’ was already a huge ask, but with Danny’s grades and his limited options? Asking for a ‘good four-year college’ and ‘strong astronomy program’ might as well be the same as asking for Superman himself to descend from the heavens and kiss him on the mouth.

Danny knew better than to voice that opinion to Jazz of all people, though. He could only sit through so many lectures on ‘keeping optimistic’ and ‘maintaining a positive view of the future’ before he lost it. So instead, he settled for a non-committal grunt and poked idly at a bit of fungus growing on the trunk of the tree.

“Tucker, what else have you found?” Jazz prompted when Danny didn’t say anything else.

“Well… It’s- I mean, it’s not looking good, guys,” Tuck’s tinny voice said. “We’ve burned through Savannah, St. Augustine, Portland, San Antonio. Hell, we even tried Chicago.”

Danny wrinkled his nose. Staying in Illinois wasn’t ideal, but he’d have taken it if it meant he could get out of Amity Park. That city, despite being his home, his Haunt, was going to be the death of him. And there weren’t enough ‘I’m already dead’ jokes in the world that could soften that.

“Okay,” Jazz hummed thoughtfully, ever the pragmatist. “Then what’s next?”

“That’s just it,” Tucker said with a sigh. “At this point… I don’t think there is a next.”

Well. Great.

Danny thunked his head against the trunk of the tree. When they’d started this search, he’d told himself in no uncertain terms that he would not be getting his hopes up, that this was a pipe dream at best. But somewhere along the line he’d let himself be lulled into a false sense of security by the surety his friends and sister had that there’d be some solution. Maybe not college, maybe not even outside of Illinois, but somewhere he could escape to.

Apparently not. If Tucker couldn’t find Danny somewhere suitable to live, Danny didn’t know someone who could.

The line was silent. Even Tucker’s clacking had stopped, and Danny suddenly wished he’d start up again, just to fill the silence.

Ancients, was it really so bad? Staying in Amity? He had a life there – or an afterlife, at least. He had friends, too, until they went off to college themselves. He had ghosts to chase and frenemies to brawl and his parents. Well, kind of. His parents were…

Danny sighed and relaxed the part of him that kept him solid on the branches of the tree. Tangibility sloughed off of him like dead skin and he sank through the tree toward the ground. If two of the smartest people in his life couldn’t figure out how to get him out, Danny really was starting to believe it was hopeless.

He was just about to let himself sink fully into the ground and let the dark earth envelop him when the earpiece crackled back to life.

“Y’know,” Sam said speculatively, “there is one place you haven’t tested yet.”

Danny paused his slow descent into the ground, chin just peeking out of the dirt.

“What do you mean?”

“Weeeeelll,” she said slowly, drawing the word out. “It’s not the most ideal, but-”

“Sam,” Jazz cut in sharply. “You’re not suggesting where I think you are, are you?”

“What?” She asked defensively. “It’s, like, the only place guaranteed to have level 5 amounts of ambient ecto outside of Amity. It kinda seems like his only option.”

Danny perked up at that. Another city? With enough ecto for him to survive off of that Tuck and Jazz hadn’t thought of? Or maybe they had, but had decided it wasn’t a good fit. Danny pulled his body back out of the ground and settled on the grass, lifting a hand to press his comm further into his ear.

“What are you talking about, Sam? Where?”

“Sam,” Tucker echoed Jazz tentatively. “I don’t think…”

“I’m talking about Gotham.”

Silence. Did she just say…

“Gotham?” Danny repeated. He couldn’t have heard her right. She wanted him to move to Gotham? The Dread City? The Joker’s Playground? Home of the Bat? She couldn’t be serious… Right?

“Yep,” Sam said, popping her P. And shit, okay. Gotham. “Gotham U has an astronomy program and everything. And I bet we could score you a free ride, knowing the Waynes. They love a charity case.”

“Jeez, Sam,” Tucker hissed. “Blunt much?” Danny could practically hear her returning shrug.

“What, am I wrong? It’s not like Danny’s stupid, or anything, but all this ghost shit has seriously tanked his grades. With a little sob story here and a push from my parents there, though, I’m sure he’d be admitted in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah, but…” Tucker started weakly. “It’s Gotham. Like, Gotham Gotham. Y’know, Most Deadly City on Earth?”

“I know what it’s called, Tuck.”

“I just mean-”

“I’ve been there a few times on my parents’ stupid gala circuit, remember?” Sam interrupted impatiently. “It’s a rough ass city to be sure, but we’ve dealt with worse. Danny’ll be fine.”

“It is more than just a ‘rough ass city,’ Sam!” That was Jazz. “We are not sending him into that lion’s den! We’ll find him somewhere safe and normal where he can–”

“Danny won’t survive somewhere safe and normal,” Sam shot back. It sounded like she was leaning into Tucker’s microphone. “That’s the whole point of this stupid ecto hunt! We have to find somewhere fucked up enough that he can live without relying on the Realms.”

“Then we’ll find somewhere! Just not a city that’s known for how dangerous and unlivable it is. I refuse to get Danny out of the frying pan just to throw him right back into a fire!”

Sam scoffed. “Really, Jazz? You think Amity isn’t the fire? You think he’s any safer staying in that house?”

Danny cringed and the line went silent for a moment.

“Look, I know it’s been really bad recently,” Jazz started, but Tucker cut her off.

“You kinda don’t, though.”

“...What?”

“Like, I know we’ve been updating you and everything, but it’s different. Being here.”

“What do you mean? Different how?”

“Tuck…” Danny protested weakly. His best friend ignored him.

“I mean, your parents have always been odd, sure. But like, manageably odd, y’know? But when Phantom broke the portal…” Danny winced, rubbing his neck. “I don’t know. They kinda lost it. And now they just seem…” The line was quiet for a moment as Tucker searched for the word.

“Unwell,” Sam supplied. Her tone was grave. Tucker hummed in agreement. “Seriously, Jazz. He needs out of there.”

“I… Danny? Is that true?”

“It’s…” Danny started, but quickly trailed off. What was there to say? The last few months since he’d wrecked the portal had been… rough. He hadn’t thought it possible, but in recent weeks his parents had become even more radical. Their hate for Phantom had reached vitriolic levels, to the point that they seemed incapable of thinking about anything else. Forget eating, forget researching, forget Danny. The only thing that mattered anymore was hunting down the ghost that wrecked their life’s work.

Danny never wanted to learn what would happen if they learned that that ghost slept in the room next door.

“...not great,” is what Danny eventually settled on.

The line was silent in the wake of that non answer.

Danny flopped back on the lush March grass and stared up at the cloudless sky spanning above him. If he focused, he thought he could make out Venus burning through the blue. There were no other stars to be seen at this time of day.

“You really think Gotham would have enough ecto for me?” Danny asked into the void. He scratched absently at his neck and the gently writhing lichtenberg scars there. Sure, he’d heard horror stories of the atrocities that went on in Gotham, but Amity Park had literally been dragged into hell not a month ago. If he was gonna move somewhere that even had a chance at being as haunted as Amity, Gotham probably was it.

There was an icy spark behind his ribs at the thought of moving there, and he rubbed at his chest. No one willingly moved to Gotham.

“I mean, if you’re worried about the levels of ecto,” Sam said eventually, much quieter, “why not go check? New Jersey is just down the coast from Massachusetts, isn’t it?”

It was. And that was… not a terrible suggestion. Get a reading, see if it was worth it to spend the time wrapping his mind around the idea that moving to Gotham was a good idea. See if it was worth getting his hopes up again.

“I mean, you could make it there before dark if you left now,” Tucker added, picking up his typing once more. “Crime reports are down 68% during the day. You wouldn’t even be visible to cameras, especially if you stay invisible. They don’t have that type of tech there.”

Well. That kind of decided it then, didn’t it?

The cold spark behind his ribs burned a little brighter.

“Alright,” Danny said, drifting back up into the sky. There was an itching tug at his core, and he drifted toward where it led him toward the south. “I’ll head there now, then. I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Danny,” Jazz said again, quiet but intense. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I know you don’t Jazz,” he said as gently as he could. The chill was increasing in strength as he picked up speed and raced for the border to Rhode Island. “But… If it’s my ticket out of Amity?” Ancients, the words felt almost giddy in his mouth. Out of Amity Park. How long had he been dreaming of that? “I have to take it. Don’t you think?”

The line was silent for a long time - long enough that Danny was nearly to the border by the time Jazz replied.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. Just… be safe, okay?”

“Of course I will,” he promised. But even then, when everything was still okay, the words rang hollow and untrue.

⋆˖⁺⊹₊⋆✧⋆₊⊹⁺˖⋆

Ectoplasm made a different sound than water did when it hit the ground, Danny was learning. The endless drip, drip, drip was different from the sound a leaky faucet made. It was thicker and more robust; more like a plop than a plink. The sound of it was driving him mad. It was also the one of the only things tethering him to sanity.

Danny had long since given up trying to reconcile the dualities of this place. Time passed in a hazy-quick blur, yet seconds dragged on for hours; his body pulsed with life, yet they cut him open as if he were dead; he had no mouth, yet he was always, always screaming.

Hah. A reference. Good one.

Those little thoughts helped him keep hold of his sanity, too. Little snatches of memories from his life before… this. A mindless reference here, the fleeting thought of someone’s face there. All of it grounded him, no matter how slight. So what if he couldn’t remember what he was referencing or who he was seeing? All that mattered was he’d held onto enough of himself to do so in the first place.

The plop, plop, plop of his ectoplasm on the floor slowed to a stop. He would have groaned with relief if he had any capability to do so. The muzzle affixed to his jaw and over the bridge of his nose assured that he did not. He shifted slightly in his restraints upon the cold surgical table.

Tonight’s the night, he thought sluggishly. The doctors had left minutes ago, and unlike the past few weeks, Danny had clung desperately to consciousness in their absence. The researchers had used to work in shifts so that someone was dissecting working on him at all times, but they’d recently pared down to a single team that required breaks to eat and sleep. He didn’t care enough to wonder why. He just knew it gave him a sliver of a chance.

That was all he needed.

The increase in rest Danny had been afforded these past few weeks hadn’t left him unaffected. Rather, he was brimming with an amount of energy he hadn’t felt in months. He felt fully lucid and aware for the first time in Ancients know how long, and he wasn’t going to let this chance go to waste. No, he’d waited and waited for all those extra hours of rest to start to add up and now… Now it was time for his patience to pay off.

Danny stared up at the ceiling for a long moment. If this didn’t work, he’d have to wait another few weeks to work up the energy again. He closed his eyes and centered his breathing. Then, with an internal cry, Danny wrenched his transformation from the depths of his shrunken, emaciated core.

It felt like he was rending himself in two, like he was being torn apart from within and born anew. Twin beams of light reflected against the sterile white ceiling, and all at once the transformation took hold. All at once, Danny was shoved back into his aching, all-too-human body and left panting on the icy metal. It was the most glorious feeling in the world.

It took so little effort to squeeze his hands out of his ecto-resistant restraints, to roll off the side of the table and collapse on the floor with a dull thud. The pain of the impact rocked through him, but he didn’t have the mind to care. Tears leaked out of his eyes, once again clear liquid instead of neon ectoplasm, and his chest shook with hysterical, silent sobs.

He was human again. He- He was a person, just like he’d insisted and sobbed for hours upon first arriving here. A fact that the doctors had ignored in favor of muzzling his cries so they could carry on with their experiments in peace.

At the thought, Danny hoisted himself into a sitting position and scrabbled, half feral, at the latch that kept the mask affixed to his face. His fingers were stiff and ineffectual from being broken and pinned down into uselessness long ago, however, and nothing he did could make the wretched thing budge.

Danny dropped his head into his hands and cried.

His tears dripped through his fingers and into the rapidly diminishing puddle of ectoplasm he was sitting in. His body was already trying to sluggishly heal itself using that which had bled off him a few scant hours ago, and before long he was sitting on dry ground. He sniffed and looked up.

Alright, it was time to go. Sitting around wallowing wouldn’t get him anywhere. What he needed to do was get out. The recouping of his ectoplasm along with the extra rest he’d been stockpiling meant he was still reeling with unprecedented energy. He was well aware a good amount of it was adrenaline, but that just meant he had to work quickly.

Danny pushed himself to his feet. He tilted precariously before he managed to right himself with one hand on the cold surgical table. So cold, even with his ectoplasm leaking all over it. He stumbled over to the wall that controlled the Ghost Shield, to the glowing button that had ruled his life for the past uncountable days.

With feral glee, he slammed his human fist into it. The apparatus gave an electronic whine, and then the green glow dulled to gray and the Ghost Shield surrounding the lab fizzled out of existence.

Danny had never felt such relief.Alarms blared to life, but it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered, except the bliss that was transforming into his ghost form without any expectation of pain, without any fear. He was free. Without a backward glance, Danny hauled up his intangibility and rocketed through the ceiling of the lab and into the open expanse of the night sky.

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