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mariocki · 1 year

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RIP Giovanni Lombardo Radice (23.9.1954 - 27.4.2023)

"It took some time, and a lot of stress, to learn to not be in character twelve hours a day on set. At the very beginning, when I was very young, I was totally in character from beginning to end. With the long times you have on set, that was exhausting. I slowly learned how to get in and out of character. That is not always easy, it takes time, it depends on what character you are playing. Some characters need a larger concentration, some are easier to switch on and off. That is the main difference with theatre."

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davealmost · 2 years

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Phantom of Death

#Phantom of Death #horror #Italy #donald pleasence #aging

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cinemajunkie70 · 1 year

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Just learned through several of you that that legendary filmmaker, Ruggero Deodato, has passed away! This is a huge loss! Very sad to hear! Rest in peace Ruggero Deodato!

#ruggero deodato #cannibal Holocaust #jungle Holocaust #the barbarians #the house on the edge of the park #cut and run #ballad in blood #live like a coo die like a man #waves of lust #hostel: part ii #the washing machine #phantom of death #Deodato Holocaust #Italian cinema #horror #genius #filmmaker

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bet-on-me-13 · 5 months

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Death, Destruction, and Danny

(disclaimer: I have the barest bones idea of what the Endless are or their personalities, so this is just a quick blub of something I thought of at Work)

So! The JLA have just had an encounter with a member of the Endless, and called in Constantine to explain what exactly they are.

"Okay, so it's like this. Before Existence, before The Universe itself, the Personification of Time had a group of Children. These Children each Represent an Aspect of the Universe, and they are as Immortal as Immortal can get." Constantine explained.

"These children are called the Endless. They are, Dream, Destiny, Despair, Desire, Delirium, Destruction, Death, and Danny."

"...Danny?"

"Oh yeah, Danny's a cool guy. He was adopted later on by Time Itself, and he represents Balance. But that's not a word that starts with D so he just goes by his Mortal Name, Danny, to fit in."

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ohlooh · 4 months

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Danny Fenton was tired. He was also annoyed, just a little bit angry and disappointed, but mainly he was tired.

Tired of the excuses, of the missed dates, of the nights he waited for Dick to come home only for him to show up in the morning with a sheepish smile and an excuse.

He tried to be understanding, he tried to ignore the instincts that screamed that Dick was leaving him, that he was finally getting tired of him and had found someone else.

The problem was that ghosts were beings of emotion. They loved with all their core, they also hated with the same passion, but Danny ignored that. If their partner was not as dedicated, the ghost suffered, their core tried to reach out, form and maintain the bond all alone. Some ghosts even ended up with cracked or shattered cores because they fell for the wrong person.

Danny foolishly thought he would be spared this, he was still half human after all. He was forced to let go of that illusion today. This evening was his and Dick's anniversary dinner. They had planned this months in advance and Dick never even showed up.

Danny felt his core crack on the way home. Not a big break, just a little barely noticeable nick, but given time it could grow deeper and shatter him. So Danny made the decision and packed his things, left a note letting Dick know and left.

#death defying #dick grasyon #danny phantom #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny fenton #dick x danny #angst #ghost cores

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bluerosefox · 8 months

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Playing Dead AU Guyyyyyyssss

I just had a random shenanigans idea...

Now hear me out.

You know those murder mystery parties right? The ones where people get together, an actor plays dead, and the groups have to figure out who did it.

Well what if.

Danny takes a summer job as the body/actor of the victim for those parties and actually is commented on being the best 'very lifelike dead body' actor and hey at least his 'medical condition' (halfa) is finally being useful for something (besides you know, fighting ghosts) he can even go hours without moving (or breathing) once he's dead so he doesn't ruin the immersion for party goers.

Anyways, what if he gets a job for a rich people's party, you know something novelty for the wealthy to have fun with, maybe it's the Wayne's hosting a party or maybe someone else and they invite the Wayne's. And the company he works for sends him to Gotham. He gets there, helps set up the clues and the other actors, etc etc.

Then the guests start showing up, Danny acts like the star of the show he is and then the lights cut out, he screams (very realistically), and 'dies' before the lights come back on. As some players come up to inspect his body however he doesn't notice how some take his pulse and actually fully think he's dead.

Point being, Danny is the 'dead' body for the murder mystery, goes to Gotham for a gig, 'dies' and the batfam think they have a legit murder happening.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #blue rambles #crossover #writing ideas #random idea #danny phantom dc #dp x dc crossover #shenanigans #just all the shenanigans #Danny takes his 'deaths' as naptime and doesn't notice he stops breathing #and hes naturally cold #the batfam thought this was going to be a normal fun semi-normal night at a party #but... uhh what do you mean you cant find his pulse Tim??#hes not breathing?#what do you mean you can sense death around him Jason!

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proneterror204 · 3 months

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Dan-el god of death 2

Danny was so exited! Clockwork had sent him to an Alien planet! Well technically he was the alien, but he was on another planet! From the looks of it their culture had just entered its medieval era and was ending a massive war. Danny was sent to cleanup all the resentful undead and evil cults, but surly Clockwork wouldn't mind if he experienced some culture. Right?

Due to Clockworks amulet he could translate their language and his name came out as Dan-el. Which was close enough. Apparently alot of the people had seen his fights with the undead. He hung around and taught them somethings and learned about their culture, religion, and most important their stars. Till one day he looked around and had an "Oh Shit" moment when he discovered maybe he had gone to far and taught to much. He had to leave.

Clockwork sent him back to Krypton( Why did that sound so familiar?) multiple times. Each time Danny found himself in new era's. Then Danny noticed something. As the people, Kryptonians, thanked and praised him, he started to feel it. He started to notice that he was getting stronger in and out of time travel. He wondered why?

Clockwork told him. He told of how Krypton had dubed him the god of death. How they told the legend of his deeds on and off Krypton. His fights with Plasmius and Pariah Dark, his half death, and his powers. All went down as in Kryptonian mythology of Dan-el the god of death. Then he learned of Krypton's fate and the last Kryptonians. (Danny cried)

A week later as Danny lay in bed failing to go to sleep, he felt it. Someone still believed.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc x dp #dcxdp #danny is the kryptonian god of death au #danny is the kryptonian god of death #danny has no idea #danny uses this to hit on supergirl #pariah dark was a kryptonian warlord #supergirl #supergirl x danny #kara zor el #kara danvers #blame clockwork and his bullshit

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starry-bi-sky · 4 months

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There are two things that Damian knows that he knows Father doesn’t.

He has an older brother

He was dead

(And a secret third thing: Damian was glad he was dead. They did not get along.)

Well. No, correction, they were two things that Damian knew that Father didn't. Past tense. Strange magic swirled through the air and created a mirage before his eyes, and immediately a scowl forms across his face.

The mirage shifts and shimmers like the light hitting a slowly turning prism, and then it settles into a memory. One that Damian does not recall. Like looking into a tv screen, it shows, faintly, a room, with most of the magic going into the image of a crib.

His mother was standing on one side, and next to her, standing on his tiptoes was a small five year old boy looking up at her. With dark hair and skin that was only few shades lighter brown than Damian's, the little boy's resemblance to Damian was undeniable.

However, his eyes were blue. Not green. Damian's scowl deepens, and he sinks back. "Danyal." He mutters, and feels eyes turn on to him.

Danyal Al Ghul. Damian's older brother. A prodigal swordsman like Damian, and five years his senior. He'd be fifteen if he was still alive. His memory of the last time he saw his brother was still clear in his mind.

(A sword to Danyal's neck. Stars were glittering through his window. Damian was five, Danyal ten. He is not sure why Danyal had snuck into his room, all he remembers is hearing a sound and on instinct reaching for his sword.)

(His brother had intercepted easily. But had not shoved the sword away. Moonlight hit his blue eyes, and Damian remembers seeing the pupils shrink to let the light in. His eyes looked almost silver.)

(His brother bares his teeth at him. Damian wants to slice his neck more than anything, and he bares his teeth back. "Good." Danyal says, his voice low in a hiss, "Your reflexes are good, little brother.")

("Of course they are," Damian remembers snarling, and presses the sword closer. But it does not budge. "I am an Al Ghul.")

(Something unrecognizable passes through his brother's eyes, and his mouth twists into something like a smile. "I know." He says, and tilts his head downwards at him. "And you will be great.")

(His brother shoves the sword back, causing Damian to stumble. And like the wind, he is gone.)

(The next morning, he goes on a mission with mother and a few others. Mother is the only one to return with Danyal's sword, and a red-eyed look in her eyes. Damian does not mourn. Now there's only one of them.)

"Momma." The little Danyal-mirage speaks, a furrow between his childlike brows as mother lowers a bundle into the crib. His blue eyes watch her, and lifts onto his toes to peer into the crib as she sets the baby down. "Who is this?"

Their mother's hand comes to rest along his back. "This is Damian, my son." She murmurs, voice low. "He is your little brother. Protect him well."

Damian scoffs internally -- not likely. He remembers every spar he ever had with Danyal, every harsh word and insult. His pushing, pushing, pushing for Damian to get up. To try again. Do it again. The only kindness he ever showed him was when his fingers bled. And even that was harsh, firm. Rolling gauze around his wrist and scolding him, telling him how to wield his weapon better.

(It was the same as everyone else, but somehow it hurt worse coming from his own brother.)

But he watches his older brother's youngest self tilt his head to the side, and then reach his chubby hand through the crib's bars. He runs small, blunt fingers over the baby's arm, and the baby jerks. Through the crib's bars, Damian sees himself grab Danyal's fingers.

And he scowls even deeper.

And Danyal's eyes... widen. He lets out a little gasp, and a small smile Damian's never seen him wear tilts at the corner of his mouth as he looks up at their mother. "Mother," he whispers, "he grabbed me!"

Damian... his scowl falters, for a moment.

He doesn't wait for a response, he looks back to the baby with sparking eyes. His expression melts like sugar as he bounces the finger being gripped tight by the small hand. "Hello, little brother." His brother says, voice its of usual firmness, but there's more fondness underlying it than Damian's ever heard. "My name is Danyal."

The mirage shifts before Damian can comprehend his older brother's voice. It shows the crib again, appearing as if a few days had passed. There is night lilting through the nearby window, and a creek of the door. The baby doesn't stir.

Danyal sneaks in, still wearing his training clothes and a sword strapped to his side. Damian's scowl returns, watching him creep over to the crib. Of course -- the last night he saw his brother wasn't the only time he'd snuck into his room.

Would he go so low as to attack an infant? Damian wonders, watching his brother cross the room to his crib. But while his fingers rest against the hilt, they never curl to unsheathe.

His brother peers into the crib again, and there it is again, that smile wider in the corner of his mouth. It's not a full one, but its as uninhibited as it gets. Dripping honey-sweet with awe. "You are so tiny." Danyal whispers, and pokes a finger back through the crib. It wriggles, then pokes Damian's cheek gently. "Was I as small as you when mother gave birth to me?"

There is no response from the baby. Not a coherent one anyways, the little thing snuffles and turns his head, mouth open to latch. Danyal stills, his eyes grow ever wider again.

Danyal says nothing else, just rests his cheek against the crib and watches the baby sleep in silence. The affection never leaves his young face.

Damian feels unsettled. Off-foot. This Danyal is foreign to him... He wonders what happened to have changed his brother's mind on him.

There's a scuffle, quiet, but there. Danyal picks up on it just as Damian does, and his head pricks up like a deer, head already turning away from the crib. The affection leaves his face, falling away like water into something serious. His blade is already slightly unsheathed.

Two assassins, belonging to grandfather, burst out of the shadows. Their swords swinging into the air and ready to strike.

Danyal kills them both, his back to the crib. It's not without struggle, and when the two assassins lay dead on the floor, the baby is wailing at the top of his lungs. Danyal has a laceration cleaving down diagonal of his cheek. It's close to his eye, just barely missed blinding him.

Damian never knew how he got that scar. He does now. (He doesn't know how to feel about it.)

His brother clutches his bleeding face, sheathing his sword as tears well up onto his face. But he turns towards the crib, and hurries over. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay." He hushes rapidly, the League-drilled seriousness fallen away to reveal a panic-stricken five year old. He sticks one hand into the crib, the one not clutching anything, and grabs little Damian's hand.

Their mother comes bursting in that moment, and Danyal turns his head towards her. "Mother." He says, his voice cracks un-wantingly. Their mother steps over the bodies of the assassins easily. "They tried to kill Damian."

"But they did not." Talias says, kneeling down next to the crib to inspect Danyal's face and Damian's well-being. When she finds nothing of concern beyond the injury, she continues. "You killed them before they could, Danyal. Well done."

The mirage of his brother nods, his eyes teary and red.

Damian... is discomfited. he never thought Danyal would kill assassins for him. He would have thought his brother would sooner look the other way. The mirage shifts again, and it quickly shows time passing.

Danyal sits in Damian's nursery every night, after that. He lays at the foot of the crib with his sword, a pillow and a blanket with him. Some nights there is nothing but peace -- or as close to peace as a baby could achieve -- and some days assassins break in.

Danyal kills each one.

The mirage shifts again, and it shows more memories of Danyal interacting with Damian during his youth too young for him to remember. His first steps, his first words.

"Danya." The small toddler of Damian says, arms reaching for Danyal.

A frown curls across Danyal's face, and pulls Damian into his lap. "No, no, little brother." He scolds, voice firm but.. softer. "It is Danyal, Damian. Danyal."

"Danya!"

Damian's brother sighs, but there is that same-small tilt at the corner of his mouth. A glimmer in his eyes. A glimmer... that Damian is finding he recognizes.

(He always thought his brother got that look in his eyes when he was mocking him. Was he wrong?)

The mirage shifts again, and this time it shows only mother and Danyal, alone. Danyal is older, taller. Seven, if Damian had to guess. Mother has a stern look on her face, her hands tight on his shoulders. "Damian will be starting training soon, my son."

Ah, then close to eight then. Training starts, always, at three years old. He watches Danyal nod, his expression mimicking their mother's. His arms are folded, always folded, behind his back, always neat.

"You can no longer have the relationship with your brother as you did before." Mother says.

Danyal's expression... falters. It shifts, it fluctuates. He looks surprised, thrown off. Like he isn't quite sure he heard what mother just said. His brows furrow. "What... do you mean, mother?"

"I mean what I said, Danyal." Mother says, stern, "Ra's will be keeping a closer eye on Damian now that he is of age to begin his training. He will not like if he sees you both getting along."

"I am sorry, my child. But your relationship with Damian ends here. You are rivals now, not brothers." In a cruel form a gentleness, mother raises her hand and tucks a stray curl out of Danyal's face.

Of course. Damian never had a relationship with his brother because of Grandfather. Of course. No, he's not feeling a little bitter. No. There's not an inner child that still, like a candleflame, wishes that he'd had a bond with his only flesh and blood.

Danyal is dead now. So it's not like it matters. He's happy about this.

Danyal frowns, and he steps back. He looks lost in thought. "We are still brothers, mother," he says, argues, and looks up to meet mother's eyes. "Let me train him, I will make sure he gets the skill he needs. If we must be rivals, then I will teach him how to defeat me. If he can defeat me, he can defeat anybody."

Their mother, and Damian, both blink in unison. Then mother smiles something sharp, calculated. She folds her hands behind her back. "Then do it. But you will make him hate you."

"...So be it."

Damian.... Damian is silent. His world axis has been tilted on its head. He is sliding, and sliding, and sliding down. Spinning. Many things click into place at once.

More memories from the mirage show. It shows Danyal training Damian. It shows their arguing, their bickering. It shows Danyal going to their mother to praise Damian and his skills, how fast he is picking up on the sword. How one day he will surpass even him.

It shows Danyal sitting outside Damian's bedroom door every night, listening in for anyone who dares to break in. His knees drawn to his chest, his sword at his side. Sometimes he sneaks in, sword drawn, when he hears a sound.

Some nights, Damian wakes up. He remembers those nights. Danyal standing over his bed with his sword unsheathed and tight at his side. He remembers the instant terror as he immediately reached for his own weapon.

His brother always scolded him for his lack of vigilance. That had he been anyone else, Damian would have had his neck cut. He would've been dead already. It only made Damian's hatred of him grow.

But he understands now. Because there were assassins in the room that Damian, four years old, three, did not notice. Not until later. He always assumed the attacks on him after Danyal's death had been because now there was a new heir to target.

It had been the only lesson he'd been even somewhat grateful for.

Then finally the mirage shimmers, and it shows Danyal, ten years old, in one of the training rooms, mid-spar with Mother. It's fast, sharp, impressive and like a blur. Damian is unsure if at ten which one of them was the better swordsman. Some of the assassins who have never met Danyal said Damian was, but the ones who had said it was Danyal. He'll never know.

In a lull in the fight, when their swords are crossed, mother speaks. "Ra's wants you and Damian to fight." She says, teeth grit into a deep scowl. The cross breaks and Danyal jumps back, he frowns.

"We have fought, mother." He says, and dives in first, swinging for mother's feet. Mother dodges, and slices at his arm. He swerves out of the way, twisting on his feet like a dance. "We are always fighting, doesn't he see our spars?"

"Not a spar like that, my son." Mother says, a snarl in her voice. She lunges, and Danyal blocks her blade. "A fight to the death. Father has grown tired of having two heirs."

That gets Danyal's attention -- or, more accurately, it distracts it. His eyes widen, and his sword lowers for a single moment. A mistake. "What?" Is all he gets out before mother has him on his back, her blade pressed to his throat.

He freezes. As does Damian. Danyal's brows furrow, then unfurrow, only to knot up again. "Mother, what do you mean a fight to the death?" He flips to his feet when mother removes the sword. She walks over to grab her water.

"Must I repeat myself, Danyal?" Mother snaps, rubbing her forehead before swigging from her canteen. "Father wants to find out which one of you is the stronger heir, and so you will fight to the death after your training in a few days."

Danyal's tan face loses a shade of color, he looks ashy. "There must be some mistake!" He exclaims, his arms gesturing out as he peers around mother. "There is a five year disparity between us, Damian has only just started training two years ago. It would be an unfair fight!"

"Do you think me unaware?" Mother whirls on him, and there is a grief-stricken look on her face. Like she is already mourning Damian's death. Damian feels ill. "Your skill is far beyond what Damian can accomplish right now, and there is nothing that I say that can convince Father otherwise."

Danyal wears an expression like he is scrambling for answers. A white knuckle grip on his weapon. There is a long silence, and his lower lip curls up. His throat bobs, he swallows. "Is there really nothing we can do?"

Mother makes a frustrated sound, pushing her loose hairs out of her face. "Not unless Father changes his mind, or I send one of you away. But Father would surely send someone to look for you or Damian."

"What if one of us faked our death?"

Mother stills. As does Damian. No, he thinks, stiff as a rod, no way. These mirages were lying, nothing but figments of an imagination. Of some quiet what-if that Damian had not yet stomped out.

Mother's expression shifts, and then turns contemplative. Danyal notices, and keeps pushing, he looks as hopeful as he could get beyond his usual unwavering, stone-like expression. "One of us could go to father--"

"No." Mother cuts off, voice sharp. Danyal wilts, confusion flittering across his face. Damian, from the corner of his eye, sees Father tense as stone. His white-slit eyes have not left the mirage. Nobody's has.

"Father will undoubtedly check there first, it would not be a good idea. You or Damian will have to go somewhere where he would not think to look. Someone unaffiliated with the League."

Danyal's face falls, shutters, and then closes up again into stone. Mother begins to pace, and Danyal's blue eyes follow her. "So a stranger?" He asks, and there is disgust lilting into his voice.

Mother nods, and she looks just as offput as Danyal.

The mirage of Damian's brother rolls his shoulders back. "Then I will do it, mother." He says, voice unwavering. There is a stubborn note behind it all, one that Damian recognizes. "I will fake my death, and Damian will stay here."

Mother's eyes turn sharp on him, and she stops in her spot. She pivots. "Are you sure?" She asks, eyebrow raising, "There is a chance you will never meet your Father if you leave. Nor will you see I or Damian again, if you do this."

Something like fear flickers across Danyal's face, eyes widening momentarily -- as if that very thought had not crossed his mind. But then it smooths over to sharp determination. He nods. "It would be the same for Damian if it was him instead. I will do it, Mother."

Damian feels ill again. Father has a strong set in his jaw, his teeth grinding.

Mother stares at Danyal, and then her expression softens. And like before, it is grieving. "In a few days time, I and another member of the League will be going on a mission to the American States. I will tell Father that you will accompany me, once there we will dispose of the other member and then orchestrate your death."

The American States. Danyal was here, in the country. He was out there somewhere -- but no this was fake. It had to be. Danyal was dead. A fool who got himself killed on a mission with mother and left the title of Heir to Damian.

Or maybe it had been his plan all along. His and mother's both.

...Was mother ever going to tell him?

The mirage of Danyal nods, sharp. Understanding. There is a gleam in his eyes that is not pride, it is tears. And when Mother leaves the room and leaves him alone, the stone-like expression on his face crumbles and falls.

His brother, ten years old, curls up his lip in an ugly way. It wobbles as the tears in his eyes do, and he brings up his hand to slam it over his mouth. And sinks to his knees, a yell-like sob muffled behind the skin.

His brother, ten years old, looks smaller than Damian remembers him being, and cries.

Damian has never seen Danyal cry. Not once in the mirage of memories, nor in his own.

The memory holds for a minute, and then disappears. And no new one shows up. The magic is gone, and it leaves a silence in its wake. Heavy, staticky, and full of revelations.

So there are two things that Damian knows that his Father now knows too.

He has an older brother

His older brother is alive.

(And a new secret third thing: Damian wasn't sure how to feel about it.)

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc prompt #i promise this is a prompt #it just got very long #danyal al ghul au #my take on a danyal al ghul au #older brother danny #dpdc #dpxdc crossover #i know the usual gist is that danyal al ghul is a better knife thrower than he is a swordsman but hey #consider: phantom has a sword when he fights ghosts. how sick is that?#his ghost form having allusions to the LoA. its not obvious but its there #did i make danny brown skinned? yeah. because him being white or not is irrelevant to me and i wanted to make him darker skinned #thinking about the angst of bruce seeing his firstborn son going “i could stay with father!” and then said child being visibly crushed #when told no. and that he may never see his father ever. actually. if he fakes his death. and still doing it anyways for damian's sake #danny loves his little brother he just shows it in an unorthodox way. some of it is not his fault #also danny being an absolute grump in amity park is very funny to me. he's an arrogant little assassin child in AP who is only here for #his little brother's sake and safety. he loves his brother but that doesnt stop him from being an arrogant little brat #gremlin assassin child danny is so funny #i know this is very ironic for me to post after posting my thoughts on danyal al ghul aus and their missed potential #but actually this prompt is what spurred that post into creation in the first place actually.#because i was thinking about this au and then went “oh hey you know whats funny--” and then i #thought about it too much to the point where i had to make a post talking about it #tried to find a balance between danny being mature for his age and also still being a kid #like yeah he’s a trained assassin and has killed but also he’s a 10yo boy about to be separated - Assumingly permanently- from his family

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mariocki · 1 year

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RIP Ruggero Deodato (7.5.1939 - 29.12.2022)

"I've been doing the rounds for about ten years, doing the festivals, where I'm invited for Cannibal Holocaust, you know, and other fairly violent movies; festivals that specialise in exploitation style movies. The people I've met there, the fanbase, the people who actually pay to go and see the movies, the people who take part, are the nicest, most lovely people I've ever met. They may be scary in appearance, with piercings, tattoos and stuff, but they arrive at these conventions with their kids in the prams, dressed up as little devils, but it's like a carnival. They changed my mind about people's appearance; they're incredibly peaceful. These festivals, these conventions, are about having fun in a very peaceful way; it's just a fun weekend."

#ruggero deodato #italian cinema #rip #death ment tw #film director #cannibal holocaust #uomini si nasce poliziotti si muore #live like a cop die like a man #una ondata di piacere #ultimo mondo cannibale #concorde affaire '79 #la casa sperduta nel parco #the house on the edge of the park #raiders of atlantis #cut and run #body count #the barbarians #phantom of death #un delitto poco comune #vortice mortale #the washing machine #ohhh this season has been a ruthless one #whilst my thoughts on Cannibal Holocaust (far and away Deodato's most successful and well known film) are complicated and honestly change #from day to day‚ I will say without reservation that it is probably the most intelligent and the most genuinely artistic of the italian #cannibal cycle of films. the intense focus on that film does seem to have robbed Deodato of some recognition if only for the bredth of his #filmography; he became the cannibal man‚ but he worked in poliziotteschi‚ slasher‚ comedy‚ erotica. films like Phantom of Death and #Live Like a Cop deserve to be a little better known and there are other films of his that are frustratingly still not widely available in #the english speaking world. here's to a retrospective. rip Ruggero‚ you rascally old provocateur. sleep tight

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noisilyscreechingsong · 10 months

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Eyes

Dp x Dc Crossover Writing Idea

“Red Robin!”

When he backtracked to find the owner of the voice he was a bit surprised to find a young boy, maybe eight years old if he had to guess, dressed in a red sweatshirt that dwarfed him and a pair of gym shorts that had seen better days.

Not many Gothamites called out to the vigilantes, a silent agreement to stay out of their way and not to look too closely. This kid however stared up at him with bright blue eyes unafraid of getting the Red Robin’s attention.

A fan?

Before he even opens his mouth, the kid gives him a small, hopeful smile, eyes shining with something that reminds him of himself when he was that age and following Batman and Robin with his camera around his tiny neck.

“I brought you a gift,” the boy say with nervous excitement. He enthusiastically swings off the backpack he had on to dig through the contents, taking his eyes off the vigilante and showing his unwavering trust that nothing bad would happen to him while Red Robin was here.

The boy pulls out what appears to be a jar wrapped in newspaper, the worn page ripping in some spots to show the clear glass underneath. Small hands present it like it’s Red Robin’s birthday (which it wasn’t).

He takes it cautiously, the kid hasn’t been hostile but this was still weird, and pulls it closer with enough space so if it’s a bomb it doesn’t blow up in his face.

It’s got weight to it and the slight sloshing tells him it’s filled with liquid. He carefully unwraps the ‘gift’, keeping his eye on the boy who stands waiting anxiously.

Tim almost drops the jar as soon as he sees what’s inside. Only his reflexes from over the years held on and his expression turned neutral.

A pair of eyes sit at the bottom of the jar. The orbs were crudely extracted, tissue floating around them like a mane of hair around a head.

He turns the jar to see the irises and… he knew these eyes. The slimy green is filmed with death, but he recognized these eyes from the number of times the owner locked them onto him, the cruel possessiveness they possessed when they gazed at him. Never again apparently.

Tim doesn’t speak for a while, not knowing what to say, but also thoughts racing too fast to form any proper sentences.

“Do you like it?” The small, nervous voice interrupts those thoughts.

What an innocent question on an equally innocent looking face.

“How did you get Ra’s Al Ghul’s eyes?”

The teasing chatter over the comms immediately hushes into shocked silence.

“I took them from his body, so you knew he was dead. I burned the rest so you don’t have to worry about him coming back again. The Pit there is gone anyway,” the child explains easily, not fazed in the slightest from the words he speaks.

“Grandfather is dead?” He hears Damian whisper over the comm.

So many other questions were flying through Tim’s head. He looks the kid over again.

Black hair and blue eyes. In any other situation the kid might have been a possible Wayne adoptee. He’s not a clone from what he can see though. Despite the coloring he doesn’t really look like any of them. Pale skin like Tim, but has freckles. The same kind of nose as Damian, but wide, round eyes. Jaw kind of like Jason, but his body shape is too narrow. Bright, almost icy blue eyes like Dick, but eyebrow shape is flatter. Lip shape like Bruce, but from the kid’s anxious lip biting he could see the faintest trace of dimples.

“Who are you?” He asks instead of the other million and one questions.

The boy blinks almost like he wasn’t expecting the question. He’s cheeks color pink with blush as he grins widely.

“I’m Danny!” He introduces cheerfully like he didn’t just hand a vigilante a jar of eyes.

“Hi, Danny,” Tim greets almost dumbly. “Want to tell me why you gave me this?”

Danny scoffs his shoe against the pavement in what appears to be embarrassment.

“Well, I know when you ask someone for something, it’s nice to give a gift or something. Like I did something nice for you so maybe you’ll do something nice for me?”

He takes a moment to absorb that child-like reasoning.

“So you want me to do something for you and you thought I would like Ra’s Al Ghul’s eyes in exchange?”

Danny studies him and fidgets with the large sweatshirt sleeve.

“I just thought you would like proof. Like the whole ‘bring me the heart of my enemy’ kind of thing. Do you not like it? I couldn’t just take a picture ‘cuz I didn’t have a camera with me, I know you like photography. I can do something else for you if it’s not enough,” he offers worriedly.

Tim freezes.

“How do you know I like photography?” He demands.

Danny tilts his head curiously.

“Because Tim Drake likes photography,” he says like it’s obvious, “and you’re Tim Drake.”

Well. This is less than ideal.

“Red Robin, take him back to the Cave,” Batman instructs over the comms.

Yeah, he was getting there.

“Do you know the other’s’ identities?”

Danny nods and hums affirmatively. Tim waits.

“Oh! Yea. Batman is Bruce Wayne. Robin is Damian Wayne. Red Hood is Jason Todd. Nightwing is Richard Grey-“

“Okay. That’s enough.”

Tim glances around the empty alley they were standing in, checking to make sure no stray people heard. Luckily they were truly alone.

“Danny, do you want to come back with me?” He asks, but it’s not really a question. The kid was coming back regardless, it would just be better if he went willingly.

Unsurprisingly, the kid lights up like a little sun at the offer.

“Really?” He nearly shouts in excitement.

“Yeah, kid. I parked my bike a few blocks from here. You ever rode a motorcycle before?”

Danny shakes his head, nearly bounding on his toes.

“Not in this lifetime.” And wasn’t that odd wording? “Are we gonna grapple there?”

“Think you can hold on?”

“Yeah!”

He kneels down so the boy can climb onto his back and lock his arms around his neck and hook his feet together around his torso. Danny is worryingly light as he stands.

The kid is the picture of an excited and overeager child as they carefully fly over rooftops and then drive back to the Cave. Even when they park inside the safety of the Batcave, Danny’s eyes are filled with child-like awe and wonder, so curious and chattering with questions and wild imagination. It would be cute, endearing even, if the jar of eyes wasn’t sitting heavily in his pocket.

Alfred came down not too long after their arrival with a tray of healthy snacks and some waters. Danny happily munches on the apple slices as he wanders around where Tim can see him.

The rumble of the Batmobile can be heard almost an hour later after Tim has to tell Danny not to touch the weapons for the fourth time. The kid’s attention is drawn to the sleek black vehicle as it parks by Tim’s bike. He trots over with wide eyes as the doors open and Robin exits, then Batman.

Unfortunately, Dick is in Bludhaven and Jason is visiting Roy and Lian this week. Cass and Steph were gone as well and Duke was sleeping. It was just the three of them and this kid with Alfred as the only buffer.

Danny stares openly, curious, as the duo makes their way over to the computer where Tim has claimed his sit.

Tim turns the jar that he set on the table so the eyes are facing them and slowly leans back again, suddenly very tired. Damian flexes his hands into fists tightly while Batman is very still.

“Hi,” Danny chirps like nothing is wrong, oblivious to the tension in the air.

Batman takes a measured breath. Robin glares down at the child, but remains silent for now.

“Who killed Ra’s Al Ghul?”

Danny blinks blankly.

“Nobody.”

“You’re saying he just dropped dead?” Damian sneered in sarcasm.

“Death took him,” the child says simply as if that explained everything.

“How?” The word is demanded and emphasized.

“Like Death takes everyone. His expiration was overdue.”

Bruce frowns and Damian almost snarls.

“I demand you start making sense!”

Danny glares back in offense.

“I’m being very clear! Maybe you should ask better questions!”

The twelve year old growls at the smaller child and Batman has to place a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him from attacking.

“Danny?” Batman questions after a tense moment.

The boy’s arms are crossed in irritation, but he blinks out of his glare to stare up at the man.

“Yea?”

“How do you know our identities?”

“Oh, memories.”

Danny looked like everything he said made sense and it was driving Tim up a wall.

“Memories,” Bruce repeats.

“Uh-huh,” Danny nods confidently. “From the Lazarus Pit.”

A jolt goes through Tim as he recalls what the boy said earlier about the Pit.

“Didn’t you say the Pit was gone?” He asks before Bruce could continue his line of questioning.

Danny turns with a bright smile as if he was proud Tim remembered.

“Yea! Well, gone from this world anyway.” Tim was concerned. “I took the memories from it before sending it back where it belongs.”

“Okay. How did you know how to ‘take the memories’ and send it back? Back where?”

“I was born from it. Duh. It went back to the Realms or I guess you’d call it the Afterlife,” Danny actually rolls his eyes as if they should already know this.

“Born from it?” Damian asks with a wavering voice, hidden well from the child but not from them. “Nothing has ever been born from the Pits.”

“That you know of.”

And wasn’t that the kicker.

“So, to clarify, you come from the Pits. You know who we are because you took the memories from said Pits. Death took Ra’s because his time was up. And you took the eyes from his corpse to give to me because you thought I would like it as a gift so I would do something for you.”

Danny positively beams.

“This is why you’re my favorite!”

Damian grinds his teeth harshly.

“What is it you want Red Robin to do for you?” Batman asks in strangled hesitation.

“Oh!” Danny perks up like he remembered and hops over to Tim with pleading hands. “Can you please make me an identity? You’re really good at all that stuff and I was hoping you could find me a family. Someone to adopt me. A nice family, with a bed and family dinners and a dog. I always wanted a dog.”

Tim has the sudden urge to scream.

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voiider · 20 days

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I need codependent Danny/Jason as a little treat (for me) and I love the idea of them having some sort of instant connection the moment they meet (bc ghost stuff idk)

Danny who's been dropped in Gotham with no way home (alt universe??) and he's been here for 36 hours and having a Very bad time senses a liminal being and immediately latches onto them heedless of the fact that his new best friend is shooting at some seedy guys in an alley and goes off about how stressed he is and how he can't make it back to the ghost zone and what a bad day he's been having (and it's important to note Danny is a littol ghost boy literally hanging off of Jason's neck as he floats aimlessly) and Jason is like "who are you??" And Danny is like "oh sorry I'm Danny lol" and then just continues lamenting his woes

And honestly ? This might as well happen. Nothing about this Danny guy(is he human?) gives Jason a bad vibe and tbh he's never felt more calm and level headed before so he just keeps up his usual Red Hood patrol and doesn't even think about it when he heads back to a safehouse and feeds Danny dinner (breakfast) before crashing for half the day

The only thing I actually need is Jason meeting up with the bats for some sort of Intel meeting and they're like "uhhh who's that" and Jason is like "that's Danny." And does not elaborate (very ".... What do you have there?" "A smoothie" vibes)

And it takes them a while to realize that these two have known each other for less than 12 hours and are literally attached at the hip

#very remora fish with a shark #jason todd #danny fenton #danny phantom #dpxdc #dp x dc #this isnt super important but i imagine Danny's ghost form as young and unaged from his death so jason is used to this small whispy kid #who just hangs off him and talks literally all the time #so when something comes up and someone is like 'idk if we can bring danny looking like... that' (glowing and a literal ghost)#danny is like 'oh ok u need a human? ok :)' and transforms #its been WEEKS #jason didn't know he could do that #nobody did #and now theres this 20ish dude standing there #human form danny doesn't talk a lot (anxiety) ghost form danny can't stop talking (anxiety)#could be a ship fic and at this point jason goes from 'where is my little buddy :(' to 👀😳#i imagine theres a sort of feedback loop with them both feeding off of each other's ecto energies and vibes idk #so when danny is human its not as strong #batman is convince this strange entity is like hypnoyizing his son and like hes not WRONG #but it goes both ways #idk #i just need more codependency fics :(#i should go on a bender #ignore my 500 open tabs and go to town

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nerdpoe · 24 days

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Dick puts everything on the line. He's the last one standing. The rest of the Titans are down. He dies making sure that they, and the world, can live.

Then he wakes up, staring at a ceiling dotted with glow in the dark stars, very confused.

There's a redheaded teenager who calls herself Jazz, who seems suspicious of him. He had parents, ghost hunters who are definitely breaking many, many laws, who love him dearly.

He has a pair of very close friends, Tucker and Sam, who also do not trust him.

There was a funeral for Dick Grayson, he looked it up. There was a corpse and everything, cremated exactly as he had demanded after learning what had happened to Jason.

Just in case it's a fluke, and he's about to be thrown out of a body that isn't his, he doesn't reach out to anyone in the hero community just yet. Instead, he decides to look into who, exactly, is Daniel Fenton, and why do his friends and sister keep looking at him like he's a spy?

Or; Danny, growing more and more powerful as a halfa, was starting to have his ghostlyness leak through to his human form. He asked Clockwork if there was a future where Jack and Maddie would ever accept him being half ghost, and Clockwork informed him that no, there was not. So Danny worked with the Yetis in the Far Frozen to make a lifeless clone of himself, with the intent to fake his death and live on in the Realms. So when Jazz came into his room, fully expecting a lifeless clone, only to find the clone not only alive but fully functional, she's suspicious.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #phanfic #story prompt #one hero tried to fake their death #but a hero that actually died ended up messing that up #it's permanent btw dick's soul recognizes this body as his #the body is liminal but not a halfa #it had to hold up to an autopsy performed by the GIW #sam and tucker are freaked the fuck out #jazz is suspicious as fuck #DIck's parents as ghosts grabbed his soul and shoved it into an empty body before the soul could complete transformation #they needed a body that was liminal enough to work with a sort-of-formed ghost #and they overheard that Phantom was having one made to act as a cadaver #and well #needs must #Phantom won't mind they're sure

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satoshy12 · 3 months

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Angel Bat Danny

Bruce had been floating through this green place already for a few hours. That tiny, white-haired, winged boy with a halo found him and brought him to a place to stay.

It was a pretty nice Greek place, and he saw many people. Even met Pandora, you would think Diana would have end up here.

++ It was not Bruce's Fault ! Really! BELIEVE HIM!!

Well, he adopted the Angel Boy Daniel, after a few hours of knowing him. Had the papers too done.

+ And after maybe 2 or 3 weeks in the Zone but real world just few days, he was back in the Watch Tower, seeing the Justice League. It looks like John was able to bring back his soul. + A few days later, an Angel Bat appeared in Gotham, saving the town by making all the Joker Gas gone with a beat of his wings and healing them with a 2 beat.

+ Phantom:" Papa!" Batman:" Oh! Come here. I did promise you Burgers."

Later. Dick:" You were dead for just 2 days! And you had time to adopt Angel!" Bruce: "Don't blame me."

++ For Public it's now The Holy City Gotham??