I mentioned it in tags but like. I go absolutely insane thinking about Sam adjusting to how ‘normal’ people live while he’s at Stanford but also old habits die hard and he never fully lets go some of his hunter instincts (because how does one really unlearn habits that have been instilled in them since before they could count to 100).
Anyways Sam has a pocket in his backpack devoted to salt packets he pilfered from the dining hall and early on in their relationship Jess gifts him a whole container of salt for Christmas as a gag gift.
Sam and some of his ‘friends’ go out to play lazer tag for someone’s birthday because it’s fun as hell and Sam absolutely smokes everyone on accident.
Imagine your already weird-ass randomly assigned freshman yr roommate that keeps this weird squeezy water bottle (like the sporty Gatorade type if you catch my drift) of what is, presumably, water (it’s holy water) on his bedside table (he NEVER drinks out of it for some godforsaken reason), sleeps with a KNIFE under his pillow, and carved some weird-ass satanic pentagram on all four corners of his bedpost. You tell your friend about how creepy your roommate is and they’re like ‘o what’s his major’ and ur like ‘political science’ and ur friend is like ‘aaaa that makes sense’. Also he is on a full ride at one of the most prestigious and notoriously selective universities in the country so people just think he’s a little freaky but in an endearing way and not freaky in a antichrist-prince-of-hell-drinks-blood-witch-in-all-but-name type of way
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When joking about how ridiculous it is that Fabian is popular I don’t think people realize how insanely cool the bad kids are in universe. As viewers we see their cool moments but we also see them being dorks and lame idiots. Think about their in universe reputations and how you would react to hearing about them if you lived in the same world as them.
There is a group of six people who saved the world 3 different times before they even entered their junior year of high school.
One of them never showed up to any of their classes until their third year and still passed. She is a rockstar and arch devil of rebellion who owns a recording studio in hell where she plays the bass.
One dude threw the greatest party the entire high school has ever seen, is captain of the sports team, and killed the school’s evil principal without facing any punishment.
One performed a motorcycle kick-flip that was doing a jump off of a mansion’s roof into a pool of flaming tartar sauce. Said kick-flip student has created a god, killed that god, brought herself back from the dead, and resurrected a completely different god.
One of the girls is the chosen oracle of all elves and punched her dad so hard he instantly died. Also if you dig deep enough into the political history books it turns out she caused there to be a feud (bordering on full war) between her home nation and the nation she currently lives in.
The quietest kid of the bunch is a super genius who invented a solar lasso that captured and contained an eldritch horror into his van, took 4 years of high school all at once and passed all of them, is currently acing his arcane mechanics and physical Ed studies, and is the second hand man on the school sports team. He also is the drummer for the arch devil’s band and launched a fully working satellite into space before he even started studying arcane mechanics.
Finally the “dork” of their group is an arcane consultant of heaven, became a P.I. after freshman year, is currently in every extra-curricular school club, and is beloved by seemingly all of his underclassmen. Also after he found out that the dragon his party was fighting ate his dad he fucking ATE IT to avenge him.
Obviously we know the truth behind all of these things and the actual way these six dorks act, but think how insanely sick they all sound in universe.
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Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Part 1
[Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4]
To not turn into a giant raging asshole hell bent on murdering people and destroying the world after everyone he loved died, Danny had ran from Amity with his chosen vice.
A bottle. That’s right. Even after Jazz’s talks about alcoholism as a poor coping mechanism as a form of self harm, he still chose alcohol. Or maybe that’s why he picked it, because it reminded him of her, right before the booze took the sting of grief off of her memory. He was never really all that good at listening to Jazz.
And now she’s gone, so it’s moot point. Danny really hated Nasty Burger.
Danny made it all the way to Gotham, bottle constantly glued to his hand. It’s better than Vlad’s creep-o-self looming over him all of the time. He bummed out on the streets, fitting into crime alley like a native. Danny learned to pickpocket. Not much, just enough for a bottle when his ran out. He stayed human. At first he tried to convince himself that it was because he didn’t want to be perceived as a meta in a city where Batman notoriously disliked metas. Then, as he sunk deeper, he admitted to himself in a shameful curl of a whisper that it was really because alcohol affected his human side much easier.
Ghosts need an ungodly amount of alcohol to even get slightly buzzed. Danny’s human side? Only one full bottle the shittiest tequila he could find could even hope to be more than buzzed. It sucked.
He’s spent two years being an alcoholic that didn’t actually get that drunk. Technically, underage drinking was a crime. But then again, so was being a vigilante ghost. So, whatever. He does what he can to dull the grief. Mostly, he slept on covered and hidden nooks on top of Crime Alley’s roofs. Gotham city had taken pity on him and cleared her smog clouds when he was awake at night. Stargazing helped, at least. It gave him a little hope. It gave him a little wish to change and better and live like he wants. But then the night ends and when the day comes, Jazz isn’t there. Sam isn’t there. Tucker isn’t there. His mom and dad are not there.
Danny always went back to the bottle, in the end. Not that it did much.
Which was why, when he saw three looming figures over a tiny child, Danny’s saving people thing flared with a vengeance and his surprised ectoplasm burned what little buzz he had achieved by downing most of the bottle away, leaving him stone cold sober and pissed.
Danny sighed, dumping the rest of the nasty tasting liquid out. There’s no point drinking that little.
He approached the trio, who were beating up an actual child. Ancients, he hated Crime Alley sometimes.
“Give me your shit, you little punk!” Asshole 1 decided to say like a typical mugger, raising his leg to kick the curled up kid below. Danny doesn’t let him land the kick, smashing the bottle on the asshole’s head before any of them clocked his presence. He pivots, pushing a bit of that extra strength he normally keeps on a tight leash into his hands, and punched the other two in a quick fashion, knocking them out.
With that taken care of, Danny turned back to the kid who was still curled up. Danny sighed again, the trembles in small shoulders plucking on his heartstrings.
“You okay, kid?”
The kid uncurls, and Danny stared. Holy shit, is he looking into a mirror? Blue eyes, black hair, and tanned skin. Holy shit, he’s even got similar jaws to Danny.
“Huh.”
The kid flinched.
“Y-y’er the drunk,” the kid flinched again, eyes darting to the broken bottle still clenched in Danny’s hand. “I- I ain’t got money, honest. Please-”
Danny blinked down at the kid, brain connecting the dots after so long without actual interaction. He’s panicking and staring at the bottle in Danny’s hand like it’ll kill him. Danny raised the bottle and the kid closed his mouth with a click, terror worming its way into the kid’s eyes.
“I wasn’t going to mug you myself, kid.”
“But- y’er the- the Alley drunk.”
Danny blinked. Did he get a reputation without knowing again? Goddammit.
“I guess. Am I famous or somethin’?”
“Nobody- nobody fucks wit’ ya.”
“I also don’t hurt kids.”
“…”
The kid stared at him dubiously and with a sinking feeling, Danny realized that maybe the kid already had some terrible experiences with a heavy drunken hand. He promptly chucks the bottle further into the alley.
“I drink, yes. But I’m also not the kind of scum that would lay hands on a kid, let alone anyone that didn’t provoke it first.”
“Oh.” The kid uncurled more, looking at Danny warily, more at ease now that the bottle has left the chat.
“Yeah. I’m Danny. Stone cold sober, right now.”
“…”
Danny waited.
“Peters.”
“Okay. Peters, do you wanna take their shit?” Danny pointed a thumb at the knocked out would-be-muggers behind him.
“Y… yeah, sure. What’s my cut?”
“All of it.”
Peters stared.
Danny shrugged and started looting.
"Y'er so fuckin' weird."
----
See, the thing is, Danny hadn't anticipated saving Peters- "'s actually Jason"- would result in having a duckling following him around. The kid, Jason, glared at everyone who even looked at them wrong. But that's not the problem, because Danny could take anyone who took issue with Jason's looks, it's more like there's a child following him around now and Danny doesn't want to be the reason Jason turns into an alcoholic. It's- well, it made him cut down on the drinking. He even got jobs- legitimate jobs that sucks out his his poor ectoplasmic soul.
Why? Because Jason's apparently homeless. While that's something Danny's okay with for himself, he can't ever condone that for an actual child. Jason's walking around in threadbare clothes and thin soled shoes in the middle of Fall, for Ancient's sake.
Danny grumbles as he piled a bunch of clothes into the shopping bag as he checked out. Gotham's Walmart is a different kind of hell, but Danny feels right at home.
Sure, the work might suck out his soul and he might hate being sober, but Jason's face every time he comes home to an actual place to live, warm clothes, and food was worth everything.
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