choosinganamewashard

[choosinganamewashard]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[choosinganamewashard]

Even as a stuffed bunny Danny still needs to eat. This is how Alfred discovers that Damain's new friend is more than just imaginary, he got up in the middle of the night to get water and found Danny standing on a counter holding a cold chicken leg. Alfred makes some sides for Danny and heats up everything quickly on the stove

This is so funny just to like, picture in my mind. Stop being funnier than me anon.

I don’t even know how he would even eat. Why am I picturing something like the Among us imposter when it’s stomach opens up, but for a stuffed bunny Danny. Just this fluffy stomach opens up and reveals a meaty mouth with sharp teeth and long ass tongue, grabbing a chicken leg.

That may be too horrific for this AU tho haha. And I don’t wanna think about the logistics of a stuffed animal eating and that fueling Danny. Soooo not canon to this AU, but really fun to think about. Maybe he needs something as fuel, but actual food? Maybe not

[choosinganamewashard]

Forgot how mean I was in 'City Pigeons Bleed Green'...

[choosinganamewashard]

[choosinganamewashard]

DPxDC What's the Big Deal with the Dead

TW, I guess: corpses and mild gore(?)

Due to his life circumstances, Danny is absolutely unfazed by the dead things. Be it a still barely warm body in the alleyway or a half-decomposed rat in the dumpster. He is just okay with them.

That is not to say he doesn't respect the dead, he does, but he respects the contents, not the package. He is polite and gentle with the shades of those recently passed away, he understands their burial preferences, and sometimes he helps the souls to either find their way to the afterlife or bring justice to the ones who murdered them, or anything else if they need it and he is able to do it.

Granted, he lives in Gotham, no one here is really that fazed by dead things, but what I'm trying to say is Danny lacks that first reaction kind of instinct, the disgust and repulsion and the horror that people feel when they see a dead body.

So, one night on patrol, one of the Bats, let's say Nightwing, finds him crouching beside a body. He can see the blood on the pavement and the bullet wound on the chest of said body, and this is yet another innocent life that has been taken, and he couldn't stop it, he was too late.

Meanwhile, Danny just turns his head towards him, waves, and goes, "s'up".

[choosinganamewashard]

"...Timmy...?" Dick hasn't called him that since before Bruce disappeared, but it's the only thing he can say as he stares at his brother's broken, bleeding body.

Tim, Timmy, his little brother in all but blood, bleeding from his ears and eyes and nose, burned so severely his skin is peeling off, actually turns to look at him.

Freezes.

"Shit. No one's supposed to see this." Tim says, and Dick lurches forward to do...something. He doesn't know what, for all his first-aid training doesn't know how he can help when there's this much damage, but he has to do something.

But Tim disappears, like he was never there.

Or; On a ghosts death day, they gain the appearance they had at death. This includes the injuries. Danny spends his death day very far away from home, since it actually makes his human form look like he got electrocuted to death by untold voltage and mass dosages of radiation, and he really doesn't want his mom and dad to see that, even if they're cool with the half-ghost thing. Problem; apparently he's a dead ringer for someone Nightwing knows, and he just mentally scarred Valerie's favorite hero. Fuck.

[choosinganamewashard]

"...Timmy...?" Dick hasn't called him that since before Bruce disappeared, but it's the only thing he can say as he stares at his brother's broken, bleeding body.

Tim, Timmy, his little brother in all but blood, bleeding from his ears and eyes and nose, burned so severely his skin is peeling off, actually turns to look at him.

Freezes.

"Shit. No one's supposed to see this." Tim says, and Dick lurches forward to do...something. He doesn't know what, for all his first-aid training doesn't know how he can help when there's this much damage, but he has to do something.

But Tim disappears, like he was never there.

Or; On a ghosts death day, they gain the appearance they had at death. This includes the injuries. Danny spends his death day very far away from home, since it actually makes his human form look like he got electrocuted to death by untold voltage and mass dosages of radiation, and he really doesn't want his mom and dad to see that, even if they're cool with the half-ghost thing. Problem; apparently he's a dead ringer for someone Nightwing knows, and he just mentally scarred Valerie's favorite hero. Fuck.

[choosinganamewashard]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[choosinganamewashard]

"This is a ghost core"

Tim's eyes lit up at the glimmering orb, making grabby hands as thoughts of the tests he could run flitted through his head.

They pulled the core away and gave him a stern look. "And it is the physical embodiment of one's soul."

Oh

Tim quickly realised just why Phantom looked so distressed. He looked back around the room they were in. In the lab they raided after the GIW went to ground after the Anti Ecto Acts were abolished. Saw the multitude of cores in various sized containers. Saw how some were fine, but others? Dull, cracked, chipped. Oh Gods, the agents had been experimenting on ghost Cores (The capital C felt necessary, not he knew). No wonder Phantom was barely restraining his desire to teal the building down. Dozens of his people, reduced to the most vulnerable state, damaged. He slowly reached out to offer a hug, and his distressed friend clung to him. Shaking in rage or sorrow. Likely both.

Tim: Will they, can? Can they heal from this?? Is.. Will they come back from this?

Danny: I don't know. Ghosts retreat when injured, or tired, or bored. But.. I've never seen cores so dim before. We, I need to get the to a healer. Red, I can't.. I can't stay in this building.. You know what my instincts are demanding.

Tim squeezed his friend a little tighter for a second, before letting go and nodding firmly. He then very carefully avoided all of the cores, letting Phantom take care of them. Phantom was holding on by a thread. If he came across as a threat? After his initial fuck up? He wouldn't be leaving here intact. He knew Phantom wouldn't kill him. But Tim did NOT want a Titans Tower part two thanks. He also told everyone else to stay away. Quietly mentioning that Phantom was not taking this well, and needed space.

Once Phantom had all of the Cores, souls, of his people? He gave Tim a grateful nod and disappeared. Tim knew he was going to have a hell of a time explaining this to the others. But Tim had learned! Sometimes, you have to not poke the danger point, it will end badly. He would just have to explain that very precisely to B. The man would just have to deal. Plus, once the healers had looked over the... rescued ghosts? Phantom would definitely bring them a detailed list of everything. Once the anger was out of his system.

[choosinganamewashard]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[choosinganamewashard]

I needed an excuse to put Vegeta in a cone collar

[choosinganamewashard]

[choosinganamewashard]

Lord Beerus, you can't really blame a toddler for pulling anything that grabs their attention

[choosinganamewashard]

Slowpoke girl took a bit too long putting on her summer swimsuit...

[choosinganamewashard]

Bruce forwarding Wayne Enterprises advertisement emails to Tim for him to deal with only to realise too late he's actually been sending them to Jason.

He only finds out as he's driving down town and sees a giant billboard reading 'Wayne Enterprises. Our CEO is getting plowed by Superman. Can you say the same for yours?'

Suprisingly, the share price goes up.

[choosinganamewashard]

Headcanon: Whis and Beerus don't show it often but they care A LOT, and Vegeta also acts like he doesn't care what they say about him but he CARES A LOT ...I mean they're both Vegeta's mentors, and Vegeta's never had mentors before in his life so their compliments would mean a lot to him

[choosinganamewashard]

learned today (after googling it upon seeing the "Sadomasochism Brothers" post) that masochism was named by a psychiatrist who had read Leopold von Sacher-Masoch's erotic writing and was like "I feel safe in concluding that this man had Fucked-Up Freak Sex Disorder, which now until forever will bear his name", while von Sacher-Masoch was still alive. there are accounts of von Sacher-Masoch being like "bro what the fuck" about this