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#what we eat
jasab · 6 months
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A must watch 🙂▶️ The message, wisdom, and the bold yet respectful timbre of Zach's voice are so powerful and mesmerizing; you can clearly see that Jay is somewhat overshadowed by him. A pure bliss if you can spare the time.
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keepersofmyheart · 4 months
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Thanksgiving meal at my family's house. Too much food. I'm miserable
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daisywords · 5 months
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One of my biggest nitpicks in fiction concerns the feeding of babies. Mothers dying during/shortly after childbirth or the baby being separated form the mother shortly after birth is pretty common in fiction. It is/was also common enough in real life, which is why I think a lot of writers/readers don't think too hard about this. however. Historically, the only reason the vast majority of babies survived being separated from their mother was because there was at least one other woman around to breastfeed them. Before modern formula, yes, people did use other substitutes, but they were rarely, if ever, nutritionally sufficient.
Newborns can't eat adult food. They can't really survive on animal milk. If your story takes place in a world before/without formula, a baby separated from its mother is going to either be nursed by someone else, or starve.
It doesn't have to be a huge plot point, but idk at least don't explicitly describe the situation as excluding the possibility of a wetnurse. "The father or the great grandmother or the neighbor man or the older sibling took and raised the baby completely alone in a cave for a year." Nope. That baby is dead I'm sorry. "The baby was kidnapped shortly after birth by a wizard and hidden away in a secret tower" um quick question was the wizard lactating? "The mother refused to see or touch her child after birth so the baby was left to the care of the ailing grandfather" the grandfather who made the necessary arrangements with women in the neighborhood, right? right? OR THAT GREAT OFFENDER "A newborn baby was left on the doorstep and they brought it in and took care of it no issues" What Are You Going to Feed That Baby. Hello?
Like. It's not impossible, but arrangements are going to have to be made. There are some logistics.
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carnivalcarrion · 8 months
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while we wait.
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may i offer you all a pubby?? lil bby barns?
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mulderscully · 8 months
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#she would like to be excluded from this narrative
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luvit · 4 months
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Crazy idea but a little blurb of ghost hating it when his girlfriends smokes even tho he smokes a literal PACK A DAY but he keeps trying to get her to stop until one day he just ljke fucks da SHIIII out of her for smoking so she never does again🤣🤣🤣 and him like panting “I can’t fucking stand seeing u do that to urself” while he’s BALLS DEEP
(fem!reader, mdni 18+)
what do they feed you to get a brain this big. because YEAH??????? i love ghost who wants to take care of you but is a huge hypocrite </3
ghost finds out one day when he comes home and goes to greet you with a kiss, pausing when he's a hair away and then pushes you back with a hand around your throat so you can see the nasty scowl on his face. "those aren't mine. who gave those to you?"
and he smells the smoke on your breath even if you tried to hide the smell of it with candies and brushing, even spraying on that perfume that makes him go crazy. but no matter what he'll catch you with the remnants of it if you're lucky enough to do it in secret.
most often he catches you, ripping the cig from your hands and snuffing it out. telling you that he doesn't want you to get sick from the nasty stuff even though every night he's out on the porch smoking a quick one before coming back in for bed. he tries to hide your packs, stops giving you free access to his money if it means you're buying smokes for yourself, gives you lengthy lectures of the harmful effects of smoking for you while you roll your eyes every time he blinks. and then he's had enough
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he's pounding into you, one hand firmly on your hip. the other pulls a freshly lit cigarette from his lips. he's further away than you'd like, and a disinterested look on his face even though he rams his cock into you over and over again.
"simon..." you weakly beg at him, trying to pull him closer. his frame's too tall, and it's not like you'd be able to pull him down anyways with the way he moves his hand to your throat and squeezes in warning.
"can't, love. smoke's bad f'you," he smirks and exhales a plume of smoke through his nostrils. he sits back on his haunches and continues to pin you down and you listen to nothing but the loud noises your pussy makes over your whinpering. punishing you, he's punishing you by taunting you with what you can't have.
you try to arch into him but it makes you gasp and choke against his palm. you want more, need more, need him so close to you. you want him to cage you in and kiss you and hold you tight with nowhere else to go besides against his chest and the bed. there's too much space between you :(
he chuckles evilly the way you claw at his wrist and try to tug his hand away, or even make him loosen his grip so you can breathe properly. "fuckin' brat. only thing ya need to make it hurt when you breathe is me." and he squeezes again while angling his hips to hit a deeper part of you, makes you kick your legs out and clench your toes.
he takes another drag and leans in closer, exhaling the smoke on your face. he watches the way your eyes flutter and it makes his dick twitch inside of you, stirring your pussy so nicely that it makes you a little bit wetter.
"yea? ya like tha'?" he talks to you in a condescending voice. you're trying to gauge if he's asking about his closeness or the smoke. but you know either way you answer is a trap and he'll just keep torturing you with that sinful cock of his. "sucks. can't 'ave it. not good for you. can't stand you being so fuckin' stupid."
and you try to beg and plead with him, promising him you'll stop. but he's not convinced no matter how many times "please, simon, please! 'm sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry" comes out those juicy lips of yours.
"why? you did this to yourself. keep tryin' to smoke no matter how many times i tell you no. but the brat just doesn't wanna listen, doesn't she?" he grunts and plunges deeper into you, making his balls slap your ass in place of his hand.
he takes another breath of the cig and keeps it in his mouth, biting the side of it while both hands now rest against your hips. the monstrous strength he uses to pull you back onto his leaking cock makes you ache from the force of him. knocks your breath out a different way than his hand does when he chokes you. he's got this feral smile as he gazes down at you.
can't help the way you're creaming so nice around him. 'specially not with the way he starts rubbing at your clit and tapping it with his thumb, like he's got some sort of rhythym in his head. and you're close, so close!
but when you're finally about to cum, he pulls out of you and slaps your pussy. makes you cry in disbelief as he pumps his cock over you while cumming over your tummy and on your pussy lips. another drag, of the cig in his mouth and the head of his cock over your clit.
he taps the head against your clit once and it makes your legs twitch. you sob at the loss of the orgasm and then he snuffs the cig out. grabs your jawline to make you look at him as he goes, "last time i'm tellin' you. you wanna smoke, you don't get to cum. good girls cum."
and then he climbs off of you to properly dispose of the ash and open the window. that's when you realize he was smoking the last of your pack in front of you.
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do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere (reblogs welcome!)
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confessedlyfannish · 6 months
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DP x DC Writing Prompt #5
Damian does not glance back at Bruce when he knocks on the door. Instead they both wait in silence.
After a moment, the door opens.
"Hello," Jasmine, Jazz, Fenton greets politely, unsurprised to find the Waynes on her doorstep. Damian's expression grows ever darker at this revelation.
"Hello Ms. Fenton, are your parents home?" Bruce asks, placing a firm hand on Damian's shoulder, to ground as much as to restrain. To his credit he does not shake it off.
"No, they're out of town for a conference," the eighteen year-old says, opening the door wider. "But I think you'd better come in."
Bruce would normally decline, but Ms. Fenton is a legal adult and he has already, even unknowingly, waited 16 years. Damian makes the choice for him, striding past the threshold.
"Please take a seat," Jazz says as she leads them to the living room. She ignores Damian's swinging head as he takes in the home. It is deceptively large, a 90s style house filled with modern furniture. The walls are bright, with purple and green accents that would normally feel garish but somehow work. The stairs leading to the second floor are lined with family photos that Bruce yearns to take a closer look at. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"
"No, that's alright, thank you," Bruce says, taking a seat on the long plush couch. A men's windbreaker lies haphazardly thrown across one of the arms. A closed container of Oreo cookies sit on the coffee table next to a physics textbook open to chapter 16, half covered in highlighter and filled with sticky notes. There's a child's painting framed next to the tv, a handprint made to look like a thanksgiving turkey in bright blue.
For the home of experimental scientists, it is cozy and well lived-in.
Damian repeatedly glances at the stairs through the doorway.
Bruce clears his throat. "We were hoping to--"
"I've texted--oh, I'm sorry," Jazz says, having spoken at the same time. Bruce gestures for her to go on.
"I've contacted Danny, he should be here soon. He was out with some friends." Jazz explains. As she hadn't pulled out a phone in their presence, Bruce can only deduce they have some sort of camera at their front door. This also explains Ms. Fenton's complete lack of surprise at their appearance.
"So you know who we are." Damian says, the first words he's spoken since they arrived at the house and the longest sentence he's spoken since they arrived in Amity Park.
"I do," Jazz says, calm in the face of Damian's clearly simmering anger. Bruce trusts him not to attack Ms. Fenton, but he still watches him carefully.
"He told you about me," Damian says. It is the same question, but it is also not.
"He did," Jazz says.
Damian swallows. "I see," he grits out.
Jazz's neutrality slips and her face softens in sympathy. "Damian," she starts hesitantly, but before she can say anything else the front door opens.
A moment later Bruce's son walks through the doorway, and Damian is on him.
This is what Bruce hoped to prevent, but despite his numerous checks of Damian's luggage his son has still managed to smuggle a small dagger, which he now produces and swings in a calculated arc at Daniel Fenton's jugular.
Danny dodges cleanly, and dodges every swipe thereafter in a manner that speaks to continued practice long after his time at the League. Damian is a perfect product of his training, but it is up against Danny his flaws come to light. He is just as good as he always was, but Danny is better.
In a matter of seconds Damian grows frustrated and sloppy in his attacks, completely atypical for him. Danny takes Damian out at the knees and pins him down with one arm, pressing his face into the carpet.
"Calm down," he orders. His voice is deeper than Damian's at sixteen to his twelve, the accent that still traces Damian's words completely gone from his speech. Damian growls and thrusts his head back into Danny's face, meeting it with a sharp thunk. He rolls up as Danny recoils, putting distance between them. Danny glares at him from several steps away, hand to his forehead. Damian tosses the dagger into his other hand as he charges, and to Bruce's surprise Danny does nothing more than turn his face to the side, allowing Damian to draw a sharp line down his cheek.
Damian stops dead in his tracks.
"Are you done?" Danny asks, blood beginning to pool at the seam of the cut.
Damian's expression is stricken, eyes stuck on the blood starting to drip down his brother's face.
"I said, are you done, Damian?" Danny asks. His voice is cold.
Damian hears him this time, and he flushes red. "I--you--"
Danny sighs. He looks at Jazz, whose expression is back to carefully controlled.
"Are you alright?" he asks her. She nods.
"You left me," Damian accuses, standing there holding his bloody dagger limply.
Danny turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.
"You left me," Damian repeats louder, rapidly blinking.
"Yes. I did." Danny provides no excuse nor any explanation. His stance is unyielding.
Damian's eyes bounce wildly, shifting to Jazz and Danny slides smoothly in front of her, protectively. He looks at Damian warily, not as if he is his brother, but as if he is a danger. Damian flinches.
Hope is the last to die, Bruce thinks, watching as that last bit of hope Damian had is extinguished, the knowledge working its way through every inch of his body like ice in his veins. His eyes darken. He turns and runs from the room, the front door slamming shut not a moment later.
Jazz stands up, pulling a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. She presses them to Danny's face, cupping his cheek until he holds it himself. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," she says gently. It is a thinly veiled excuse to leave them alone, and Bruce is grateful for it as she heads for the stairs.
They both wait until her footsteps have faded, taking each other in. Bruce looks at his mother's eyes and the sharp turn of Talia's nose. Damian's everything, four years older.
"You shouldn't have come here," Danny says, throwing himself on the armchair Jazz has just vacated.
"You know who I am," Bruce says carefully.
Danny glares. "I've kept your secret. She nor my parents know."
"I know," Bruce says. "That's not what I meant. You know who I am. And who I pretend to be. So you know I am familiar with masks."
"And?" Danny asks, looking vaguely bored.
"And so I can recognize when someone is wearing one. Damian will too, once he's calmed down."
Danny's expression sharpens. "No, he won't. Because you are going to go to back to whatever bed and breakfast you're staying in, pack up, hop in your private jet and fly him back to Gotham immediately before the League realizes you've gone. If they haven't already," he mutters.
"This is about the League then," Bruce says. "Do you not believe I can protect you?"
"I don't need your protection," Danny snaps, and watches Bruce actively extrapolate with a dawning resignation. "So this is the World's Greatest Detective at work," he says, slumping bonelessly into his chair, the first teenager-y thing he's done.
"Damian's in danger from the League," Bruce says. Danny glares from his slump. It's almost cute. "And as long as the League doesn't know about you, he's safe."
"Draw your own conclusions," Danny says, baring his teeth. Damian often makes the same face. "As long as you leave."
"I can protect him. I can protect you both," Bruce says. "Let me help you."
Danny closes his eyes. He centers his breathing in an exercise someone has clearly walked him through in the past. Bruce would bet money on the adoptive sister waiting patiently upstairs.
"Mr. Wayne. You are not my father," he says. "My trust in you extends to the point that I left Damian in your care, but that is where it ends. And that was when it was sanctioned by the League. By coming here you have endangered those sanctions."
Bruce disregards the sting, doubling down on his analysis. Talia had left Damian with Bruce well after Danny had left the League. But Danny speaks as if the decision had been his.
Or perhaps, Bruce realizes, it is not that Danny decided upon it, but that Danny allowed it to continue.
Bruce takes a second to review what Oracle had gone over with him before they left for Amity. Daniel Fenton had by all accounts, since leaving the League, lived a fairly normal life. His adoptive parents were eccentric scientists dabbling in the occult but their findings that bordered pseudoscience circulated a very niche community of like-minded eccentrics. The bulk of their income came from alternative energy, a more viable source of study that they'd veered harder into in the past year or so, a government contract with the EPA currently in the works. This had in part funded a vacation to an all-inclusive resort the family had taken that past summer.
Danny received average grades in school, above average in science and mathematics, declining sharply in his freshman year and sophomore year before evening out around the second semester. He had gotten into fights repeatedly with one student in particular, suspended for two weeks following an incident that resulted in a the student receiving a black eye. Teachers reported him to be highly intelligent but distracted and removed. They had recommended he be evaluated for an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He had no social media. He had missed multiple picture days. The ones he had attended he was sneezing, or a blur of movement, even going so far as to fall off his stool, legs flailing. Bruce had drank up every last one as Barbara had waited patiently.
A normal life. A family vacation to Bermuda. Average grades.
His freshman year, distracted and removed. The same year Damian had arrived at Bruce's home. Masks upon masks.
"You have informants within the League," Bruce says. Danny, to his credit, has no discernible tell. But there is no other explanation. "What will you do, if they find out you are alive?"
"That is none of your concern," Danny says, but he might as well be saying whatever I have to.
He never stopped practicing, after all.
"If they go after Damian, it is my concern."
"And that is why you need to take Damian back to Gotham before they do." Danny says. "I will take care of it."
Damian had barely spoken since he had realized Danyal was alive. But Bruce had seen the reverence in his eyes as he looked at the file.
"الوريث الصحيح" he had murmured. The rightful heir.
"You are proposing going after the entirety of the League with no backup," Bruce says. "Even if you think they won't kill you, you won't win either."
"Maybe they will," Danny says lightly. "Kill me. That would also work."
Bruce inhales sharply. "Danny," he starts.
"Go home, Mr. Wayne," Danny says, pushing himself up with one hand. The other still clutches the wad of tissue to his cheek, partially soaked with blood. "Go take care of your son."
"I'll go," Bruce says, "I'll take him to the Watchtower. And then I'll come back."
"Mr. Wayne-"
"I should've come for you," Bruce interrupts. "Sixteen years ago. I should've come for you."
Danny's brow furrows. "You had no idea I existed."
"But if I had. I would've come. I never would've left you there. And now that I know, I am not leaving you now."
For the first time Bruce watches Danny be completely caught off guard. He openly gapes at Bruce.
"You would've died," Danny lands on, voice thin. "They would've killed you."
"Unlike you, I would've brought backup." Bruce says, mimicking Danny's lightness.
He's lying. Sixteen years ago he would've thrown himself at the League to save his newborn son without a plan, without a thought beyond rescuing his baby.
Danny barks out a laugh. "You would've laid siege to Nanda Parbat with The Big Blue Boy Scout?" he looks wistful. "That would've been rad."
Bruce sees his opening. "Danny," he stands, eye to eye with his son. "Let me help you."
Danny evaluates him. "The Batman," he says softly. "I didn't want you to come, then. I didn't need one more person I had to prove myself to. All I wanted was to live amongst the stars, in the quiet of the cosmos."
"You want to be an astronaut," Bruce says. At Danny's cocked head, he says without shame, "I read your essay on personal heroes. You wrote about Edward White. Ad Astra Per Aspera."
Danny smiles slightly, sadly. "It is a rough road."
"You can be whatever you want to be," Bruce says. "I won't stand in your way."
"Even if I want to be Danny Fenton?" he asks.
"Even then."
Danny sighs. "I don't need your help Bruce," he says. "No," he says as Bruce opens his mouth. He pulls the wad of tissues away from his cheek. Underneath the splotches of dried blood the gash in his face has cleanly knit itself together, a faint white line now all that remains.
"I don't need your help," he says clearly. He holds a palm forward, and a green fire grows from its center, until the flames are licking delicately up his fingers.
"I know The Batman does not kill. But I am not a Robin. I am something else entirely," Danny says, his eyes reflecting the green of the flames. Or not, as he looks up at Bruce, his eyes green all on their own. They are sad. This is why he stayed away, Bruce realizes. Not out of fear. Danny is not afraid. Danny is tired.
But for his brother, Danny will wake up.
"And If the League takes one step towards Damian, I will raze them to the ground."
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sems-diarie · 7 months
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death is insane. wdym i’ll never see my grandmother again
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uncanny-tranny · 19 days
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I recall saying this before, but it bears repeating:
There could be a billion trans people in the world and it still wouldn't be a bad thing because being trans is not a bad thing. Even if the rate of people discovering they are trans is "disproportionate" to trends from decades ago, that is not a bad thing. In fact, it's a natural consequence for there being more trans people being able to stay alive, and, overall, being able to live in a slightly more tolerant world. You'd only see that as a bad thing if you actively didn't want trans people to either live or live a life that facilitates wellness.
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veryintricaterituals · 7 months
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Can we talk about the parallel between Guillermo's turning and un-turning.
His turning went so wrong, it wasn't what he wanted at all. We know our crazy, dramatic baby. He wanted a ceremony, he wanted it to be romantic and soft, he wanted vows and sacred words. He wanted to slowly expose his neck, he wanted whispered words, he wanted to feel safe and cherished. He wanted to be asked and be held and be seen and be accepted.
What he got instead was a badly lit horrifying ordeal. He had to take charge. Derek had no idea what he was doing. It happened in a backroom of a store, they kept getting interrupted by Derek's boss asking him to clean out toilets. Derek fucked up his bite. He almost died. "Have you done this before". Derek fainting. Blood everywhere. Anticlimactic, disappointing, not at all the culmination of his life long dream, of decades of service and love.
His un-turning on the other hand.
Oh Nandor knows him. He made up a ritual for him with a suitably dramatic name: "The Ceremony of Vampiric Transmogrification". He dressed him in robes which he put on him so softly and spoke to him so kindly beforehand. He got all the other vampires ready for him. He hung banners and lit candles. He wrote and spoke vows and sacred words to him. He gave him a choice and asked him a question. And when he got his answer he took charge and made sure everything went exactly as it should. He made Guillermo feel seen and loved and accepted, even if it broke his heart.
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ghostclowning · 3 months
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theminecraftbee · 9 months
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incidentally. every time i see someone speculating about "what if the season ends soon". i know we're safe for the time being and don't have to worry. because tango doesn't understand the idea of "good enough" and as a result if the season ends before decked out 2 has been played for its entire two-month run, he legally would be allowed to become a serial killer. and like, he lives near impulse and skizz, and maybe they're acceptable losses, but the entire state of arizona isn't. and who knows. maybe more. and the hermits can't be responsible for tango murdering the entire state of arizona (and who knows maybe more). they just can't. so the season can't end yet. because decked out 2 isn't done. and hasn't been played for its entire run yet. because the fate of arizona depends on it. you understand, right?
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demigod-of-the-agni · 8 months
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The pishacha are manifestations of evil itself, locked within a cursed amulet. The wearer of the amulet is at the mercy of the demon, known for possessing humans and feeding off their host's chakra energy. However, if symbiosis is achieved, the pishacha can grant its host a myriad of powerful abilities.
I just needed to draw something cool okay. I needed to draw some cool goop and some cool looks okay. okay. if I didn't post this I would have exploded okay
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little-pondhead · 8 months
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DP x DC Prompt
There are no more heroes.
Well, okay. Rewind a bit.
Danny has been doing the hero thing for a while now. He’s had a big reveal; everyone has accepted him (including his parents), the GIW disbanded, the Anti-Ecto acts repealed, and generally, everything is going great. Some of the A-Listers are even training as junior ghost hunters to help give him a break from his rogues! (Being Ghost King makes things hectic sometimes, and he just needs the extra help. Sue him!)
The point is, literally nothing is wrong with Danny Phantom’s afterlife.
And then Valerie Gray, the Red Huntress, disappears in front of his eyes.
Danny is baffled! She’s just…gone! Valerie just popped out of existence, like she was never there. But no matter how hard he searches in the Ghost Zone, he can’t find her soul anywhere. His core isn't broken in grief. So she’s not dead. Which is good. So then, where is she?
Some of the others come forward with ideas on how to find her. A few ghosts volunteer to go out into the mortal realm, an area Danny had declared off-limits, to see if she was out there. Danny approves it. He rounds up some of the friendlier (i.e., discreet) ghosts and Amity Parkers and demolishes the outside travel ban.
So everyone spreads out, looking for their dear frenemy and teammate. But it becomes apparent very quickly that something is wrong with the rest of the world.
There are no more heroes.
Every single living superhero on the face of the Earth has just…vanished. Villains are running amok; the countries are in chaos! Some aliens are invading Earth, mythical deities are trying to take over, and society is crumbling to the ground. Everything is on the brink of collapse.
Well, Danny was still there. And so were his people. They were pretty spread out, so could they just…take up the mantles? He also knew where to find the souls of dead heroes in the Zone; surely they wouldn't mind coming out of retirement for a little bit, especially if they couldn't die again. Oh! And that skeleton army leftover from Pariah Dark's reign might be useful in repelling those invading forces.
Honestly, there were more than enough hands to go around! And with the heroes gone, Danny didn't mind letting everyone out for a little break, as long as they followed his rules. They wouldn't stop the search for the other heroes, but hopefully, when they found them, the heroes wouldn't mind Danny's intervention too much. :)
In other words:
Someone fucks up, and all of Earth's living heroes are either wished out of existence or are whisked away to some far-off realm where Danny hasn't checked yet. In the attempt to figure out what's going on, Danny lets the dead run amok over the Earth as they search for clues. The skeleton army repels the invading armies, the souls of dead heroes deal with the world leaders, and his rogues and other Amity Parkers set up shop in place of famous heroes, trying to get the cities under control again.
Basically, they just do their best to keep everything from imploding until the Justice League and others are back.
(And why is it that Danny hasn't disappeared? Well, whatever caused everyone to go poof! only affected living heroes. Anyone heroes that were dead in the first place, or even just half-dead, stayed behind.)
#pondhead blurbs#danny phantom#dpxdc#reveal gone right au#ghost king au#for plot reasons#it doesn't count if the hero had died and then came back to life#lots of heroes would still be around then#but this is me pushing the halfa!jason todd narrative work with me here he deserves the fun#deadman is there too#and he's just thriving honestly. it's so nice to be around his own kind even if the world is ending#maybe ellie is whooshed away too cause she never technically died but she took up danny's moniker when he was crowned#vlad is ecstatic cause danny put him in charge of several states while they looked for clues including Wisconsin#skulker is replacing superman and just has a shitty S painted on his chest and just eats kryptonite like candy the first time he meets Lex#Kitty and Johnny take over in gotham and sam is now the new wonder woman#idk man just stupid stuff like this#the press is flabbergasted cause the fucking KING OF GHOSTS just showed up and he's 14 and just looking for some friends#Danny: hey guys sorry about the zombies and fire i'm just here to find my coworker and lil sister and maybe the other heroes#Danny: in the meantime i'll just let my army into the mortal realm to defend it while we figure out what's going on pls don't yell at us :)#the press: how do we explain this to the justice league when they come back. how do we explain that earth was saved by a 14 year old boy-#also idk which heroes are technically dead but are still kicking so if you feel like someone deserves liminal status slap it on them idc#some villains are trying for world dominance and some are just trying to find their buddies. their fight buds. where'd they go? :(#joker gets bitch slapped by a skeleton two days in and waylon becomes bffs with wulf#danny uses the watchtower as a base of operations and it's the only thing he doesn't want to give up when the heroes are back#i have no plot ideas beyond this#i just want everyone to be baffled that an army of the dead showed up while they were gone and just made sure everything stayed cool#later danny realizes he was technically the ruler of the world for a bit since his people were everywhere keeping the villains in check
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oobbbear · 3 months
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Warnings(?) for smooches and bitings
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I’ve gathered another 10 for a doodle post
Gitm belongs to @venomous-qwille !!!
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hairaimo · 25 days
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sometimes a situationship is a prophet, her biggest believer and a non believer
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