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#THIS IS SOOO LOVELY THANK YOU!!!!!
inkskinned · 10 months
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME#there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing#and the writing is what i need to be doing#writeblr#this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to#edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol#i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!!#my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means#i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her)#hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong#i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet.#i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse#i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!!#i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO#i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness#and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it#im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us#i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer#and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art.#i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work#even if it means being miserable#but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.
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ammaterasu · 10 months
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i had this lovely commission completed by @tomoyoo <3 <3
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kimtaegis · 7 months
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I wish you could love me again
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gotchibam · 5 months
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Wooloo and Bewear ko-fi doodle for mononoke--hime!
I'm accepting pokemon ko-fi doodle requests here! ✨
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nucrests · 11 months
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Michael decided to work from home today, but first needed to make a not-so quick stop to Target 😏
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bobzora · 1 month
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clock strike 12
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ash-and-starlight · 2 years
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D3, coconut mall, Yue
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beloved moon girl 💙
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tangledinink · 2 months
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For the beautiful twins, a gift of hope
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@tmntaucompetition
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irn-bru · 2 months
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i genuinely love how in their animated series, batman and superman both have the most disappointed parent energy imaginable. bats is just constantly finger wagging at generic bad guy of the week, and supes just angrily levitates outsides lex luthor's window with his arms crossed like a mother about to give you the most grilling lecture of your life. they are so FED UP and they want you to know it!!
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simplydnp · 3 months
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who's hand is in this picture?
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A Mathematically Rigorous Proof That I Spent Too Long Writing
welcome to university math: dnp hand edition
(no, don't leave, you'll be fine i promise)
to begin, we need a statement to prove. we have two options:
- the hand is dan's hand
- the hand is phil's hand
now, for most proofs in university math, you are told a true statement, and you must show why it is true using logic rules, definitions, and theorems. but, we do not know which of these statements are true, so we have to find out.
to prove that a statement is true, we must show that it is always true for the situation presented. to show a statement is false, we must present a single instance where the statement is false (also known as a counter example).
a quick not scary math example:
definition: a prime number is only divisible by 1 and itself.
statement: all prime numbers are odd
(this is false, because 2 is a prime number and it is even. you don't even need to check if there's any others, all you need is one single case where it isn't true to disprove it)
so now that we have a little background on proofs and how to prove and disprove them, we go back to our two statements.
the thing with this situation is, one of them must be true (unless you're gung-ho on someone else holding dan's face while phil takes a picture on his phone of dan in his glasses, in which case, i applaud your commitment, but in actuality this proof will cover that option too)
the full statement we have is: dan is touching his face or phil is touching dan's face
now, because this is Real Life and we have a picture where a hand is touching dan's face, we know already that one of these options is true (as mentioned above) but! using symbolic logic you could also come to this conclusion.
this type of statement is an 'or' statement, and if you're curious, you can look into 'truth-tables' and see why, but at least one of the options must be true.
back to the proof at hand (bah-duhm-tss)
okay. now, proofs also must be 'general' in order to mean anything, really. these are statements of truth of the universe, not just for individuals. so, we will prove this generally.
we have 2 people involved, so individual 1 (dan, the owner of the face and potential face toucher) will be labelled as 'D' , and individual 2 (phil, the possible face toucher who does not own the face) will be labelled as 'P'. thus, this can be true for any such D and any such P.
so with our 'or' statement, in order to prove it, we pick one of the options and say that it is not true, and we have to show then that the other is true.
step 1: let's assume this is not P's hand. (assumption)
step 2: thus, it must be D's hand. (what we take from our assumption)
step 3: now, if it is D's hand, we look at what a hand on one's own face is capable of appearing like. (a definition or true fact about step 2)
the position in the given photo shows the hand with a thumb on the cheek, and a finger on the forehead. so, we find an example of a person with their fingers in the same position (or close to) and see if this supports our claim.
consider:
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now, with this image, you can clearly see how the subject's right hand has the thumb on the temple and index finger on the top of their head, however, it is a close enough position for our case.
from the view of the camera, the closest finger to the camera is the edge of the pinkie. in fact, it will always be the closest finger to the camera in this position, assuming the subject has all fingers and no additional appendages.
step 4: we now compare this to our photo (we verify if this holds to our claim or contradicts it)
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in our photo, the closest appendage to the camera is the edge of the thumb.
step 5: thus, it cannot be the case that D is touching their own face. (what the evidence says)
step 6: as we assumed it was not P's hand and have shown it cannot be D's hand, and as this is an 'or' statement both of these claims cannot be false, we can therefore conclude it must be P's hand. (our conclusion: re-stating the statement and assumptions and conclusion)
step 7: we verify that P is true (optional step but in beginner proofs you generally show why your case works)
to do this, i will show a picture of a person touching another's face, and compare it to our image.
consider:
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now, this image is not exactly the same, similar to above. however, P's left thumb is on the cheek, with their index on D's temple. the closest appendage to the camera (if it were in a similar perspective as our original) would be the edge of the thumb.
comparing it to our original:
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our comparison holds.
thus, we can conclude that the true claim in this statement is that P must be touching D's face, which, in particular means that:
phil is touching dan's face in the image
thank you for partaking in phannie mathematics. we now know. i am not sorry.
bonus:
phil has a hitchhikers thumb and dan doesn't so why was this necessary at all 🤡
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kazuaru · 11 months
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An updated version of this post i made a long time ago.
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hana-mural · 4 months
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suou posting
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luxaofhesperides · 5 months
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You know how Spiderman has 'canon events'? And how Gwen would always die? How about in every universe Duke exists in, there would always be Danny. And every time they fall in love! But whenever Duke tells/hints at him being The Signal, Danny suffers an accident or dies.
Like let's say in the DC vs Vampires universe, Duke tells Danny he's Signal and then a few days later he gets turned into a vampire and Duke has no choice but to kill him.
Or something like that yknow?
Earth 26.
The undercity is full of life. People from above refuse to understand it, staunch in their beliefs that the undercity is full of crime and sickness, drugs and filth. But the people down there are more human than any of the ones Duke has met up top.
Though Bruce Wayne can try to bring Duke in all he likes, there’s no denying that Duke doesn’t belong. His heart will always be in the undercity, where he was born and grew up and lived and lost so much. 
The undercity is where Danny is.
Away from the blue skies filled with blimps, tucked beneath the towering buildings and clocktowers and elevated rails for trains leaving trails of smoke through the city, there in the cramped spaces and dark alleys, is Danny. 
He ducks through familiar alleys, cutting across perilously stacked homes and hopping over railings to get to the Fenton Lab faster. 
He’s been excited all day, heart thrumming with anticipation, as he returns to his roots and seeks out Danny. Today is the day he’s going to come clean, tell Danny everything: his feelings, his powers, his identity as The Signal, fighting crime in all parts of the city to keep Gotham safe. He’s sure Danny suspects something is going on with him, likely has already guessed at everything he wants to talk about, but Danny deserves the truth.
It is his inventions that help Duke save people, after all. 
Finding the front door of the Fenton lab is always a challenge. Metal scraps and materials stripped from vehicles litter the front of the building from people leaving all their unwanted things with the Fentons. Miscellaneous inventions and tools are left scattered around as well, creating a labyrinth that Duke has to traverse every time he wants to see Danny while he’s working with his parents.
It takes a few minutes, but Duke manages it, pushing open the door after a quick knock.
“Danny? Are you there?”
He can hear something from the lower floor, a strange, high pitched whirring noise. His powers kick in and suddenly he can see people rushing around the room, shouting in voices that he won’t be able to hear until the time comes. He can see himself, crying.
Duke’s heart drops.
“Danny? Danny!”
He runs down the stairs, suddenly terrified that he’s too late. Something is going to happen to Danny. It has to be Danny, because no one else is home with him; that’s why Duke asked to meet in the Lab, to have some privacy while the other Fentons were out.
The noise is louder, too loud to hear over, and Duke rushes into the Lab just in time to see some strange circle of metal spark with electricity. Danny stands right before, staring up at it.
“Danny!” Duke shouts as loud as he can, and Danny startles, then turns around.
Their eyes meet just as the machine finishes turning on, the metal circle ripping open with a thunderous noise, and Duke can do nothing but watch as it sends electricity and some other energy racing through Danny’s body.
It lasts just a brief moment, and then Danny is crumpling to the ground, eyes closed as the machine settles. The swirling pit of white and green stares out at him and Duke knows without a doubt that Danny is dead. . . .
Earth 41.
Duke’s been acting strange. Well, stranger than usual.
Danny’s not one to go around poking at people’s secrets, especially not his boyfriend’s, but he knows something big is going on. He’s not worried that Duke is cheating on him, but he can see the injuries he comes back with some days, citing all the unrest and the resurgence in crimes following Batman’s death.
He wonders if Duke is going out each night for street fighting, forcing all his emotions into his fists until they’re beaten bloody. Batman’s death hit him hard, and Danny has no idea what to do to help him.
They’re both stressed, on edge and scared, but they don’t fight as much as he expected. Admittedly, it’s hard to fight where they’re always spending time apart. 
No longer. Tonight, Danny is determined to get to the bottom of things so he can help Duke with whatever he’s going through. He even texted Jazz to get some tips about communication and helping someone through grief. He’s as ready as he’ll ever be. 
Right at 3AM, the window slides open. 
“Welcome back, Duke,” Danny says, watching as Duke flinches, then sighs as he closes the window. 
“What are you doing here, Danny?”
“Well, it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, I decided to hang out here and wait for you. But you’ve been gone for a long time.”
“Sorry, Danny, but I’m really tired. Can this wait?”
Anger bubbles in his gut and Danny takes a deep breath to force it down. “I’ve been waiting. If you keep pushing this conversation off, we’re never going to get anywhere.”
Duke slumps against the window, rubbing a hand against his face, looking exhausted. “Look, Danny, things have been getting real bad, and I don’t want you to get hurt because of it.”
“What’s going on, Duke? What are you so worried about?”
“It’s… The guy who killed Batman. His name is Karma, and I’ve been going after him.”
“You’ve been what?!” Danny shouts, shooting to his feet. “Duke, are you insane? Anyone who can kill Batman is bad news, there’s no way anyone short of like, Superman, can stop him! You’re going to get yourself killed!”
“Someone has to stop him! And I can do something to help, okay? I’ve been helping the other bats fight him. I can do this.”
Danny clenches his fists, feeling frost crack against his skin. “You could have told me,” he says. “You know I can help, too. You’re not the only one with powers.”
“I can’t endanger you like that, Danny.”
“So you leave me in the dark instead? You would have rather I wait for you forever while you never come back because you got yourself killed running into a situation you can’t get out of? You think I would have been any safer not knowing? Then clearly you haven’t been paying attention!” He’s shouting by the end of it, shaking with fear and rage and so many things it all becomes a tangled mess in his head. 
“I really think we should have this conversation in the morning,” Duke says, eyeing Danny warily. It’s probably just because he’s been out all night hunting Karma, so used to being attacked while he goes out to try to save a city that even Batman couldn’t lift from the darkness, but that doesn’t stop the stab of hurt from going through his heart. Danny has done his best to be safe for Duke, to be human and comforting and strong enough to protect him. 
And Duke is looking at him like he could be at threat.
“Whatever,” Danny mutters, shaking his head. “You’ll talk to me in the morning by saying nothing but how you need to do whatever this is and then you’ll leave and we’ll both be unhappy. Great. Can’t wait.”
“Danny—”
“Bye, Duke.”
Danny’s up and out of the apartment before Duke can take more than a few steps towards him. He zips up his jacket and pulls the hood over his head, taking the steps two at a time to get to street level. It’s dark and quiet outside, save for the distant police sirens, and Danny barely spares a glance around him before he’s making his own way home, sure that no one would still be out at that time.
He should have been more careful. More vigilant. Not so lost in his hurt feelings.
But there’s no time for that when he’s pulled into an alleyway, knife at his throat.
A man in a black helmet, face fully covered, stares down at him. “Well, well, well,” he purrs, digging the knife in a little deeper, “What’s the Signal’s little lover doing out so late at night?”
Signal?
…Duke. His boyfriend who always disappears in late hours, blows off dates when something big is going down in Gotham, who is trying to pick up the pieces following Batman’s death. 
And here is Karma, the very man Duke is searching for, pulling Danny away into the dark.
He only has a brief moment to regret storming off, for not being more patient with Duke, for not paying attention and avoiding Karma, before the knife is pulled away, tossed into the air, and the hilt comes down hard on his temple, and it is a long, long time before he is seen again.
The Signal does not find him alive. . . .
Earth 53.
The apocalypse isn’t kind even on the best of days. But today it might be coming close to something resembling kindness as Duke approaches the skeletal remains of Gotham. It’s been years since he’s been back here, moving with the Robins across the United States just trying to survive. They’d constantly been moving, searching for other survivors and food and shelter and any sign of hope they could get. 
There hadn’t been much anywhere, too much devastation across the country for anyone to even think of rebuilding. Even now, nature is just starting to recover, little green shoots pushing up through concrete rubble. 
This world isn’t one for superheroes anymore. Supervillains aren’t around either. Everyone is either dead or barely getting themselves through each day; but humanity is still around and wildlife is beginning to recover. 
Duke doesn’t know who’s left in Gotham these days. He suspects Oracle is still there, somewhere, helping reconnect telephone wires and setting up internet and electricity. Lights have been flickering on steadily as the Robins made their way into New Jersey and the sight lifted their spirits so much they decided to keep traveling through the night. 
No one in his group has a working phone any more, but the possibility of getting that piece of the old world back excites them all. 
By the time they reach the outskirts of the ruined city, the entire group is nearly buzzing with energy, speaking in hushes whispers that do nothing to hide the elation in their voices. Gotham was everyone’s home, once. They’re all happy to be back, regardless of what they’re walking into.
Duke volunteers to go scouting with a few others to find a good place to settle in for a bit as they reacquaint themselves with the city. Even before the end of the world, it was never a good idea to go blind into Gotham. 
Much of the city is still abandoned, and concrete rubble carry faded graffiti that show the remains of a gang long gone. The few people he see in the distance are quick to hide and disappear and Duke himself is too wary to approach them. But as he gets closer to the heart of Gotham, picking his way through destroyed streets, he sees more and more signs of life, people who don’t hide, weak lights in hastily constructed shelters.
No one attacks him as he wanders closer. In fact, a few exchange nervous glances then approach him, quietly asking if he’s coming from outside Gotham and what news he brings of the outside world.
Duke tells them about how Chicago is gone completely, unable to be saved at all, but there are settlements all along the shores of the Great Lakes. He tells them of the traveling groups he’s met who rotate through a few chosen states and are willing to take in new members. He tells them of someone who has an entire farm up and running again, full of chickens and cows and sheep and goat and horses, on top of all the crop they can grow. The location of the farm is kept secret and carefully protected, but they give away seeds and young animals for anyone wanting to raise their own.
The news gathers more and more people around Duke, eager to listen, and they’re more than happy to update Duke on what’s happened in Gotham. 
The Bats aren’t around as much anymore, but at least two of them are still in Gotham, helping people from the shadows. They’re fixing everything up as best they can, and most people live in or around Robinson Park where Ivy, who survived, grows food and shelter for everyone in exchange for protection and companionship. The Riddler turned from making death traps and taking hostages to creating new technology and inventions to make life a little easier, taking in a crew of assistants to learn from him.
That is to say nothing of the ghosts.
Gotham is full of them now, walking among the living as if they never died. They help people and stick with loved ones who lost them and fly through the air to deliver things with ease. It’s nothing that Duke has ever seen before, and he wonders how many people who died in the apocalypse chose to stay in such a ruined world. 
He begins to head back to the Robins, mind racing with everything he’s learned, when he sees Danny.
Danny, his friend once, who he loved dearly and didn’t quite realize it was deeper than friendship until after the world ended. Danny, who was always sleepy and soft and smiling, cracking bad jokes and lifting Duke’s spirits whenever he felt down. Danny, who was lively and dreamed of going to space to sit among the stars.
Danny, who is dead.
He never got the chance to tell Danny he was the Signal, but he thinks Danny knew anyways. He could ask now, put that lingering thought to rest, but it was one of the few things left unsaid between them, the only thing he had of Danny for all these years, and he doesn’t want to let go of it yet.
Danny hasn’t seen him yet. Duke could go to him, speak to his ghost, have some part of him back in his life.
But it wouldn’t be the same. It certainly wouldn’t be fair to tie Danny, who is free from the pain and misery of the living, to Duke, who is never going to stay in Gotham permanently. 
He misses Danny so much he feels hollowed out and empty, but he knows this is for the best.
Duke turns, pretending not to see him, and walks away. . . .
Earth 78.
Duke was…
Duke was important to him, Danny thinks. He can’t remember much, not after everything (electricity, screaming, pain pain pain, heavy darkness, a spark, hist chest cut open, where is ___? Why won’t he save—) but without any memory of what his life was like back then, his feelings are without context and easily ignored.
Wraith follows Shrike from a distance, watching as he drops into an alley to kill a rapist. Wraith feels nothing about this, for caring is not in his duties. He is instructed to simply keep Shrike alive and assist in his plans, whatever they may be. Wraith does not care about killing.
Danny, tucked away deep inside the mask, shivers and cries, wishing to hide away and say enough, please, that’s enough, just stop please stop stop stop stop—
Batman crosses the rooftops, a figure of darkness across the city’s skies. The Signal, his second oldest companion, travels through the shadows by his side until they land on the building Wraith stands on. 
The yellow of Signal’s armor is familiar and it feels safe but Wraith knows better. Talia and Ra’s have taught him to see past his emotions, to force away any sentiment and grapple with the cold hard truth. This is the truth: they are here to hurt him and Shrike, because they are dangerous killers and dangerous killers are dealt with swiftly and painfully in Gotham. 
They can do as they please to him. They will not take Shrike.
He engages Batman in battle first, easily slipping past his defense by going intangible, freezing his boots to the ground and icing his fists together. The Signal slips away at first, leaving Batman behind to try to get around Wraith, sending shadows towards Shrike who leaps away deftly, dodging them with ease as he leaves the beheaded body behind. 
Wraith grabs Signal before he can fully sink into a shadow and tosses him back, then flies to Shrike, picking him up and getting them away as quickly as possible.
“They found us faster than I thought,” Shrike says. His voice carries something in it that Wraith doesn’t recognize, but it makes his heart feel heavy. 
“We’re done for the night,” Wraith returns, voice low and hoarse. He died screaming and even the Lazarus Pits weren’t able to fix the damage done to his vocal chords. 
He lets his invisibility wash over them both, and they disappear into the night. The safehouse they set up, far away from the one Talia prepared for them, is small but comfortable. It’s secure, everything created and coded by Tim, which means Danny can relax inside the walls of the small apartment. 
Shrike helps him shed his gear, putting it away carefully. Wraith becomes Danny and he watches as Shrike becomes Tim. 
Gone is the ruthless efficiency, the quickness to cut down the scum of Gotham without remorse. Instead, he’s pale and tired, eyes still a faint green from the linger remains of the Lazarus Pit that brought him back from the dead, but there is no madness in him. Only a coldness that came long before his death, unwanted by Damian, the first of Batman’s vigilante partners, who refused to see him as part of the family or even as a hero at all. Duke had already gone to work with other teams since then and never met Tim properly for more than a few minutes.
But he knew Danny. They must have been close. If seeing The Signal sends such a sharp stab of pain in his heart, it must be for a reason. But the memories are long gone, and with them, any desire to be close to him again. 
They never do well after a run in with the Bats. Though they have won every fight they’ve had, Tim often retreats to bed in order to hide his tears and Danny is left alone, lost, and wishing he had stayed dead. 
Tonight is no different. Tim is making a difference as Shrike, striking fear in the hearts of Gotham’s criminals. Crime has gone down in Crime Alley, his chosen territory of the city, killing as many people as needed before they finally get the message to be better people. Tim is also still only eighteen and had spent three years with the League of Assassins before returning to Gotham and seeing that his place in the Bats is erased and forgotten and replaced by the well-loved Jason.
He only stays in Gotham to kill the people who sold him off to the Joker and laughed as he died slowly and painfully. Once the Joker is dead, he’ll leave Gotham and disappear for good. 
Danny will follow him. He has no life now and no other direction. And with Tim hiding under the covers, Danny can do nothing but feel his own skin crawl at the need to get away from everything that connects him to his life Before.
It’s a terrible idea, but he goes out again, heading into Otisberg, where he once lived. Only a raised hood conceals his face; the expressionless mask he usually wears is gone, and Wraith feels far away from him.
He hears the Signal land behind him some time later. It could be minutes or hours; time slips by Danny easily these days no matter how hard he tries to hold onto the minutes passing by. 
“Wraith,” Signal says, and his voice is hard. “Where’s Shrike? Out terrorizing the rest of Gotham?”
Danny doesn’t reply. He stares out into the city lights, a cold emptiness growing inside his chest. 
“Well, if you’re going to just sit there, then I suppose you don’t mind if I take you in to let Batman interrogate you. You’ve been causing a lot of trouble around here, and we don’t take kindly to murderous masks in Gotham.”
He doesn't resist as Signal grabs his wrists, hauling him up from where he was sitting on the ledge. Danny allows Signal to turn him around, shadows binding his wrists together and pulling down his hood.
The Signal sucks in a sharp breath, hands falling limp to his side. “Danny?”
Danny doesn’t respond.
“This better not be a joke, I swear to God. If you’re just wearing his face to fuck with me, I’m going to kill you, Batman’s rules be damned. Say something already!”
Danny looks up into the visor of Signal’s helmet. He opens his mouth and a hoarse whine slips out. “I knew you,” he manages to whispers. “I knew you. And then I died.”
The Signal flinches, then reaches up and pulls his helmet off. “Tell me something only we would know. Anything.”
“I don’t… remember. I wanted you to save me. I don’t think you did.”
“If this isn’t really you, Danny,” Duke says, voice thick with tears, “Then it’s a really fucked up joke.”
Danny looks at Duke, helpless. He doesn’t know what to do. What to say. Wraith only knows how to follow and protect and take orders. Danny doesn’t know how to live anymore. There is nothing he can do.
And then, as he stares as Duke, a memory slides into place, fuzzy but there.
“Arcade on eighth street,” he whispers, and Duke’s eyes go wide. “That was going to be our first date.”
“It was,” Duke says. There’s a light in his eyes now, something that looks like hope and the sight of it makes Danny sick to his stomach.
“I’m dead, Duke. Danny is dead. There is only Wraith now. Let the dead go, and stay away so we don’t have to kill you. I… want you to live.”
The shadows have loosened, still wrapped around his wrists but as a caress instead of a restraint. It doesn’t take any strength to pull out of them and drop off the roof, falling towards the ground. Danny lets gravity take hold of him for a few moments, then goes invisible and flies away just as Duke grapples down and searches for him desperately. 
He can hear Duke calling his name, then calling in Batman and Nightwing, but his voice fades away before Danny can make out what they’re saying.
Not that it matters. Whether tomorrow or further down the line, he and Tim will leave Gotham and disappear for good.
The dead cannot stay with the living, and so they will go.
There’s nothing left for them here, anyways. . . .
Earth 0.
Duke has had his fair share of strange dreams. It comes with the trauma and the powers, a terrible mix that leave him shaken and rattled when he wakes up, gasping for breath.
But instead of fear, his latest series of dreams leave him with a deep-seated feeling of grief. The details fade away quickly once he’s awake, but he can remember bits and pieces of worlds that looks so different from the one he lives in, and all of them have a single constant: Danny.
Danny, whose face he never remembers when he wakes. Danny, whose name is permanently etched into his mind. Danny, who he loves and loses every single night.
Danny, someone he’s never met.
Dick asks him if he’s alright the next time he’s in Gotham, eating breakfast in the manor with him and Tim. He considers lying, then tells him about the dreams and how frequent they are, snapshots of other lives where there is someone important to him that he can never save. Tim, who he thought was sleeping with his eyes half open, looks up and mumbles that it might be another universe.
After a few cups of coffee, Tim is awake enough to ramble on about the multiverse, pulling up reports from the Batcomputer on his phone to show Duke how many of them have had run ins with alternate universes. 
“So you’re saying that Danny might be here? In this world?”
Tim shrugs. “Well, maybe. If he’s the only constant, then I wouldn’t be surprised. If you’re here, so is he.”
“But he always dies!”
“Don’t worry, Duke,” Dick says, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, “If you do find him, then you’ve got all of his to help keep him safe.”
“Do you want me to find him? If you give me a description, I can probably narrow it down to a few people in the United States. One of them might be him.”
Duke considers it for a moment, then shakes his head. “Nah, thanks though. If we’re supposed to meet, then we will. No point in rushing it.”
“Alright. Let me know if you change your mind.”
And that had been that. Nothing to really worry about, but the dreams continue and Duke keeps waking up grieving and so love with Danny, carrying the feelings of his alternates over to his own reality. At some point, he wishes that he and Danny would never cross paths in this world, if only so he doesn’t have to lose him.
But he wants to meet him. The universe says Danny is important to him; why else would he be part of his life in every world?
The thought never leaves him. It’s always in the back of his mind as he goes about his life, going to school and fighting crime. He finds himself lingering in the streets, trying to see everyone’s faces, listening for that familiar voice.
It takes over a year before he hears someone say, “Danny!” as he’s patrolling as Signal. 
He bends the light around him, going invisible, and searches for the people shouting the name of the person he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind. It takes some time, but his eyes land on a tall, red haired woman fussing over a boy with black hair and blue eyes, leaning down some so she could reach his face.
He can’t hear what they say with the distance between them, but he knows with absolute clarity that he’s looking at Danny.
His Danny.
Duke takes a step forward, ready to drop his invisibility, letting the light escape his grasp, the pauses when he sees the bright smile on his face. 
This Danny is safe. He is alive and laughing and is with someone he cares about. 
This Danny has a life and a future and as much as Duke wants to know why his alternate selves love Danny so much, it isn’t worth Danny’s life.
Heart breaking, Duke steps back and watches as they walk away, disappearing into the crowded streets. 
He stares after them long after they’ve disappeared from sight, then grapples to a rooftop and releases his hold on the light. He sinks to his knees, trying to breathe through the grief that runs through him, and taps a pattern into his comms to signal that he’s ending his patrol early. 
It’s fine, he tells himself. This is for the best. This will keep Danny alive.
Danny always dies because of Duke. Someway, somehow, whenever they meet, the bell tolls and Danny’s death quickly approaches. It happens in every world, in the many, many dreams he’s had looking into a moment of their lives. 
But not this one.
In this one, Duke will save Danny by doing the only thing he can: making sure they never meet. 
It’s for the best. It has to be. . . .
[send me ghostlights prompts!]
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randommusicalfluff · 3 months
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LEE!HUSK AND LER!NIFTY 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ (if you want)
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YES YES YES WHY WOULD I E V E R SAY NO OMG
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bees-draws · 2 months
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Had a blast reading @spark-hearts2's fic, Yeah, I'm Not Calling Her Mommy. I didn't really have strong opinions on her until reading this, and realized just how fun she could be as an ally.
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ledzeppelinmixtape · 7 months
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wish house was a real doctor so i could be his mystery insomniac patient and after giving me horse tranquilizers and still not falling asleep he just hits me in the head with his cane and im out like a light
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