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#she threatened him
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I SLEEP WITH BOTH EYES OPEN BECAUSE TEMARI TOLD ME TO SLEEP WITH JUST THE ONE EYE OPEN AND I AM AN OVERACHIEVER
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greentea-and-cookies · 3 months
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Since Velvette is a doll I like to think she can do that whenever she wants, and the other Vee's find it horribly creepy
Translation to Val's in spanish prayer (IN THE NAME OF THE SON THE FATHER AND YOUR WHORE MOTHEEEEEEEEER!!!!)
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kalico-of-doom · 4 months
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Not even Alastor can get away with leaving blood stains on the rug for the third time that week.
Headcanon: Niffty and Rosie are the only ones who can get on Alastor’s case and he’ll actually listen
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noxcheshire · 1 month
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Back at it again with my Danny is mom coded au’s, but this time it’s because of Clockwork that he suddenly has a whole ass teenage kid.
Clockwork had been bored or maybe he was playing a game against an opponent, or even lost a bet, whatever it was, he stepped in right as Jason was searching for his biological mother.
The DNA that would have registered itself as one Sheila Haywood, confirming Jason’s mother, glitched a terrible green across the screens of the batcomputer.
In those few moments of chaos Jason’s heart beat rapidly as he tried to figure out why the computer wasn’t working, wondering if his only chance to find his mom — his blood mom — would never find success.
Then as suddenly as things went wrong the DNA settled and pinged.
Jason watched, his chest tight, as one Danny C. Works, formerly Danny Fenton appeared onto the big screen.
Danny looked a lot like Jason, short cut black hair more straight than the subtle curls of Jason’s own; deep blue eyes, tired in a way that spoke of long days and nights, but with a warm happiness that made the familiar smile — the one Jason would see on himself every time he looked into the mirror — even more striking.
Jason didn’t linger too long on the male identifying gender, nor the fact his mom leaned more towards a masculine name or clothing.
There were plenty of male to female, and female to male leaning individuals that lived in Crime Alley. He had seen it enough to not even bat an eye at it, even now. After all, in Gotham you minded your business least you find yourself in business you can’t leave.
On a different monitor information of Danny C. Works piled for Jason to quickly browse through.
Danny was a senior engineer, no intimate relationships, and with no close connections to family outside of the tentative calls from Jasmine Fenton.
Danny was estranged from Jack and Madeline Fenton, a falling out that had occurred just a little before Danny’s high school graduation. If Jason calculated it correctly that would have been — around the season Jason himself would have been born.
Okay, so no grandparents then but I might have a maybe aunt. Jason scrolled further and stilled.
Twin toddlers: Dante and Danielle Works.
Jason had baby siblings.
He doesn’t let the sting of younger siblings consume him, doesn’t allow the whispering thoughts of why he had been given up when his younger siblings had been kept and so very obviously loved.
Jason took deep breathes, he didn’t have time to linger here. He had a family to get to, and a family he would get to.
It took almost all night to reach, the starlight night sky slowly and surely fading into cloudy wine as the sun rose, but Jason made it.
And when the door opened to his hesitant but firm knock, Jason was unable to speak. His mom — dad, maybe? Did they want to be mom or dad? — stood in the doorway, brows furrowed in confusion.
It was when Danny spoke his vigilante name did Jason only just realize that he was still dressed to the nine’s in his Robin costume.
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radiance1 · 5 months
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So, Danny was effectively homeless.
His parents are dead, his sister is dead, his friends are dead. Hell, even Vlad, Vlad kicked the fucking bucket which, Danny genuinely never expected.
Vlad was supposed to be his nemesis, his main bad guy, the guy Danny's supposed to constantly pull everything out against just to win. Not to mention how significant his presence was.
A part of him assumed that Vlad would always be there and him not being there and knowing he won't be there ever again is... weird.
So you're probably asking, how exactly did this happen?
Well you see, the nasty burger exploded, for one thing. Then when he was under Vlad's care both of them got outed for being ghosts to the GIW, which was technically Danny's fault, since he did something extremely stupid.
Somehow they got caught, and life under the GIW was not great in the slightest. The constant experiments, the dehumanization (Sometimes Danny doesn't even register himself as human), the amount of times their feelings were utterly disregarded, and so, so much more.
The GIW found Vlad to be more dangerous than Danny, even if he lacked the raw power Danny had his intellect made him dangerous and for good reason. For it was because of said intellect that Danny managed to escape.
Vlad didn't manage to do the same.
Danny hated reliving that memory. Because Vlad was a villain, evil and self-serving, he shouldn't be sacrificing himself for his literal greatest enemy to escape in his stead (Not that Vlad would say Danny was his greatest, he would probably say it was the person who refused him to buy the packers). It was just, so utterly stupid and out of character for him.
So, Danny managed to escape, Vlad died. He couldn't even say anything about Dani because she got destabilized in front of him, in front of both of them actually. It hurt to watch and, he didn't quite know the specifics between Dani and Vlad anymore, but he thinks they were getting... better.
Not how it was when Dani was first created, but Vlad was working on mending it. Which, honestly, just makes everything worse.
Danny isn't powerless but it's a damn close thing. He's far weaker than he normally would be, and he's injured on top of that too boot, his powers can barely work and it's just so stupid.
So here he was, hiding out in some random sewer because he didn't want to take the risk of being on the surface and he hates the smell, but he'll take that over being experimented on again. So, Danny spends most of his time in the sewers of this place called Gotham, he even managed to make his own little area with a couch he stole and a few other appliances that were thrown out.
He lacked a Tv or laptop, but he found a yo-yo! Most of his time was spent practicing various tricks with his yo-yo.
It got boring fast. But it was really the only safe thing he could do when waiting for his powers to come back. At least he's a god at yo-yoing now.
It was while doing various tricks with it in some random sewer path, that a literal, goddamn crocodile-man just splashed up from sewer water and half-laid on the edge, since his lower body was still in the water.
Danny looked at his yo-yo, the crocodile, and then slowly stepped on over and gently poked the crocodile dude.
He made a sound, so he was alive!
Finally! Someone to appreciate his godly yo-yoing skills!
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mccoyquialisms · 1 month
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thinking about riz and his love for the bad girls, and how if anyone fucks with them, then sooner or later they’re gonna answer to riz gukgak
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morganbritton132 · 10 months
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Eddie is filming a reminder to his fans about Corroded Coffin’s limited edition merch but gets interrupted when Steve storms into their bedroom and starts digging through the closet.
Eddie, mid-promo: What are you doing?
Steve, pulling the nail bat out of the closet: I’m going to kill our neighbor
Eddie: Diane?!
Steve: Wha- No, Dan.
Eddie: Oh… why?
Steve: I know that fucker popped Ozzy’s swimming pool
Eddie: Steve-
Steve: No, that asshole has complained every time I’ve blown that pool up for Oz. I go inside for ten minutes and suddenly it has a hole in it? It’s the middle of fucking summer, Eddie, and a hundred degrees outside. If I want my dog to be able to cool down in some water while I do yard work then he should be able to!
Steve: I know he popped it so I’m going to *twirls bat* pop his head off his goddamn shoulders
Eddie, reluctantly because Steve’s kinda hot when he’s seething with rage: …why don’t you cool down and let me talk to Dan.
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spacedace · 3 months
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Got inspired by the below tiktok and the idea of the Rogues killing the Joker in revenge for Jason instead of Bruce and had to write about it.
Here, have probably way too many words (with more to come most likely, this really won't leave me alone) of the Rogue's feelings about Jason's death at the Joker's hands and everything that followed.
(also I know the timeline is a bit screwy, shhh just go with it, we're going on vibes with this one lol)
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Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.
The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart.
A kid could slit your throat as easy as a man grown in a place like their fine city, maybe easier even for those who still fell for the ideal of children being incapable of anything but innocence and sweetness. Children learned from the world around them though, they learned from the savagery that filled their world, the hard scrabble desperate attempts to survive. They learned what dark corners to avoid, which ones were safer to skitter down.
It didn’t mean there weren’t still some rules of decency to be honored though.
Most folks, even those in the circle of the Rogues, largely left kids out of the equation. Crossfire happened of course, hitting busy city centers always meant some kind of collateral. But there wasn’t much that they got out of purposefully hurting kids outside a black mark on their name in most levels of the grungy underbelly of the city and one hell of a big target on their back. Both from the Bat and those criminals in the dark with them that took offense to those kinds of things. They were crooks, but with few exceptions they weren’t complete monsters.
Robin had always held an interesting place in their grungy little ecosystem. Anything to do with the Bat was generally ruled as gloves-off, do what you do without hesitation. And Robin - both of ‘em - had no problem hitting hard and being ruthless. The first one in particular had a feral sort of rage to him that was a terrifying thing to be on the business end of.
But they were still kids.
Defending yourself from any kid swinging on you was fair game, a person had the right to defend themselves. Grabbing up Robin to hold hostage or bait Gotham’s local cryptid, that was all fine and dandy. You could even get away with roughing the kid up a little here and there, so long as you made sure not to go too far and always kept hits to where the kid’s armor was the thickest. No hard and fast written rules, mind, but general rules of thumbs. Lines indistinct due to the shaky ground a child dancing through the night as a vigilante left all of them on, but ones clear enough that you knew when you were at risk of going too far.
Besides, the Robins were good kids. Fucking feral little shits, of course, able to leave you bleeding just as easy from a kick as they were a sharp word. But good kids. Even most the Rogues in the Gallery liked em. It was hard not to be at least a little fond of a gutsy little punk like that.
Though they were all maybe a tad less nervous around Robin II than they were the original.
Robin I had a lot of anger burning in him, a lot of anger in him, but he was still a cheerful boy with a bright attitude that was refreshing in a world so bleak and dark as the one they all lived in. It was up in the air which was scarier about the kid: The smiled he gave when he was about to give a hands on demonstration about how much force a tiny ten year old could put into a kick when they had half a dozen spins shoved into a flip to wind up to 80 miles an hour, or the flash of his teeth when he was demonstrating the knife sharp brilliance of his belief that Batman was only as frightening as Robin was hopeful.
They weren’t sure if he realized that sometimes they felt a helluva lot more hope at the sight of the Bat when the little bird was putting the hurt on them, or if he’d simply folded that fact neatly into his core philosophy without issue.
Robin II on the other hand had this kind of quiet shyness to him - even as he was shouting the most inventive swears ever heard by human ear at someone while he kicked them in the balls hard enough to make ‘em see not just the face of their own god but a few dozen besides. He was just as unhinged as the Robin before him - seemed to be a requirement for the job really - but there was a distinct different in how the two birds flitted about the darkened skyline of the city. Where the first Robin’s smile was as much danger as it was dazzle, a fanged declaration of victory against the dark, Robin II’s was a sunny, stubborn declaration of perseverance. Kid was sassy and smart, and never - ever - flinched away from extending a hand to those he thought in need of it.
Even if the folks he offered that hand to were in the middle of an attack on some fancy Gala or Wayne Enterprises or whatever target of the week it was. Even knowing the offered hand was likely to be slapped away and followed by a right hook. Kid still always tried.
They all knew why.
The Bat was big on offering chances, on rehabilitation rather than damnation. Some of Robin II being the way he was came from the broody cryptid he followed around. But Batman couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for Robin II being the way he was, couldn’t even pretend to be the cause of most of it. Nah, they knew why the little bird was the way he was.
That unmistakable thick accent. That frame that was always a little too thin even as he got older and stronger. That unshakable, headstrong spirit.
Robin II was an Alley Kid.
A true child of Gotham.
Her polluted waters in his veins. Her smoggy air in his lungs. Her shadows clinging to his edges less like a beast looking to swallow a small bird up and more like a protective mother hiding her hatchling. He understood the world most of them came from. The one they all lived in. Knew it in a way anyone who hadn’t been swallowed up by the dark never really could.
Everyone had their favorite, but even those that claimed the first Robin as theirs couldn’t deny that Robin II was someone to be respected. Nor could they deny a fondness for the chain smoking, classic lit referencing, perpetually baby-faced little shit. They’d all had knock out drag out fights with the kid and knew how fucking unhinged the puny motherfucker could be in a fight, but he always tempered it with offers of resources, of a listening ear, of understanding.
He visited them after they’d been arrested sometimes. In Arkham, or Blackgate or wherever else they’d been locked up in after being stopped by the Dynamic Duo. The little bird would make the rounds whenever he had a broken wing or was stuck waiting as the Bat interrogated someone else or for any other reason he wasn’t out flitting about the city skyline at night. He’d bring cookies or snacks and even cigarettes from his own secret stash on the rare occasion, mask unable to hide the furtive glances around to check for the living shadow that was the disapproving Bat.
The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.
But childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.
Bad things happened to good kids all the time.
And some of the monsters that lurked in the city’s darkest shadows took the black mark of a kid killer as a point of pride.
Robin II disappeared one day. Just after that piece of shit Garzonas took the fast way down from the top of a tall building. There were a lot of Rogues with doctoral degrees to their names but even those Goons that dropped out of school before they learned to spell their own names could do that math.
The big bad Bat had benched the boy after the fierce little bird had done what any decent member of the criminal underbelly would have. There were those that thought maybe it’d been an accident, that the kid was pulled off duty because of being too upset at unintentionally crossing the heavy line the Bat drew in the sand. Those voices were drowned out pretty quick though.
Sure, Robin II was all about second chances, of doing better, of redemption. But Garzonas had chances to spare and only ever spat in the face of those offering them. Doubled down on being a monster in a way very, very few of the Rogues Gallery would. The kid was a sweetheart, but he wasn’t no push over and there were some things so heinous that there was only one way of handling them. Crime Alley had its own kind of justice system, and when faced with a monster that was beyond even Batman’s jurisdiction, Robin II did what he always did: fell back on his roots.
Or so the rumors said, at least.
That was the thing about Gotham’s seedy underbelly. It was a grimy, wretched nest of vipers and cut-throats, but it was also worse than any beauty parlor when it came to gossip. No one actually knew anything other than that piece of shit motherfucker took a dive while Robin was chasing him and that he’d not been seen on the streets since. But most had a fondness for the kid, and a distaste for the kind of cruelty Garzonas reveled in and there was no proof that Robin hadn’t gone and done the world a favor by drop kicking that barbaric sack of shit off a roof. So as far as most in the Gallery were concerned, the little bird had stepped up and been a hero.
Time passed. Not a lot. But enough. The Bat disappeared too, popping up on an entire other continent in a way that was awfully tempting. Even with other Masks playing baby sitter while the local cryptid was away. Rogues were scrambling to set plans in motion, Goons getting hired en masse, weapons and weird chemicals getting delivered to shady places across Gotham by the truck-full. The criminal underbelly was abuzz with the same excited energy of children the day before a big birthday party.
And then the news came in.
There were people in the dark who made their living finding things out. Knowing things that no one else did or could. Some even specialized, keeping tabs on Batman and Robin better than anyone else in the business were able. And when the information they found wasn’t anything handy to have tucked into a back pocket or a secret they were paid extremely well to keep? They held on to with the same tenacity a sieve clung to water.
Robin II had run off across the globe and ended up in Ethiopia. Something to do with a doctor doing aid work, the same something that had the Bat end up there was the assumption. Kid ran off to handle things himself or was sent on a separate path on purpose for some plan or other the Bat had cooked up on his hunt.
Whatever the reason, the kid crossed paths with the Clown.
Alone.
Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham. The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart. But Robin II was hers, the child of her heart, an exception to the rule. And besides, most folks - even those in the Rogues Gallery - largely left the purposeful harm of kids out of the equation.
The Joker wasn’t most folks.
And the little bird was a long way away from the protective shadows of his mother city.
The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.
When the news broke, it broke most of them right along with it.
Plans stalled. Schemes ended. Gotham, for an unnervingly quiet stretch of time that neither its civilians or the world at large understood, went still. Crime continued, of course, but the big names weren’t seen. It was only right, by the standards of those that lived their lives in the dark, that they hold off and give the man that fought them all so relentlessly over the past years the time he needed to focus on hunting down the monster that killed his son. He didn’t need the distraction, and they all owed it to Robin II not to interfere while the Bat at last put a final end to the Clown.
And the hellish cryptid would need his full focus on this one. The Joker wasn’t one to take lightly at the best of times, but he’d set himself up neatly in the middle of a nasty bear trap. Ugly and complicated in the way everything with the Clown was. Interference from the CIA, from the UN, from Superman.
Shit went down. People heard about the Bat and the Clown throwing down in a helicopter plummeting from the sky in one hell of a water landing. Big Blue fished Batman out of the drink before he could drown but there’d been no sign of the Joker.
But the Bat would find him.
They all knew the relentless bastard would find him. It was just a matter of time. With the hellish drive of a demon straight from Gotham’s darkest shadows, the Bat would track the grinning, child killing ghoul down and make right the terrible wrong the evil motherfucker had done. Batman would hunt him to the ends of the earth and enact the justice he held up so fiercely. Robin II would have the vengeance the kid so rightly deserved.
It was just a matter of time. So they waited. And waited.
Days.
Weeks.
Months.
The Clown still lived.
The world, impossibly, began to move on. The Bat returned to his lurking in the night, picking off gangs and petty crooks and no-name gangsters as if nothing had happened at all. More vicious, more savage, but failing to turn that rise in brutality into the killing blow against the one figure that so rightly deserved it.
No one knew what was happening. There were rumors and theories, as there always were in the underground. Some thought that it wasn’t the Bat at all back in Gotham but someone else pretending for awhile, looking after his neglected city while he continued his pursuit of the Joker. Other held that it was the Bat but the whole thing was a ploy to draw the Clown out into the open. A pretense at not caring meant to get under the Clown’s skin, make the asshole mad enough to get stupid and sloppy and reveal himself.
That the man simply had given up was beyond comprehension. Beyond what any upstanding Rogue could accept. So it simply couldn’t be true. There was a trick being played. Some brilliant game of 4D chess that none of them had been able to parse out. It’d be revealed in time, and they see the brilliant trap that had been set. The Clown would be lured out, the Bat would put him down for good, and then they’d all at last raise a glass to the little bird that had been shot down far too soon and smoke shitty cigarettes and quote literary masters and mourn the loss one of Gotham’s own true children.
They just had to play along. Stumbling forward back into their usual habits, pretending that it was a choice and not the world just forcibly dragging them along. It’d make sense, eventually. The Bat had a plan. Robin II wasn’t forgotten, his killer not left free to roam and ravage unpunished for what he’d done.
And then one day there was a new bird flitting across the rooftops.
Chasing the Bat’s looming frame like a reverse shadow. Bright flashes of color in contrast to the bleak darkness of Gotham’s grimy nights. Small and thin and young.
Not the first Robin. With his showman bright grin and bloody rage and unwavering belief in the terrifying power of hope. Not the brilliant, vicious little boy that they’d seen grow over the years into the fierce and fearless Nightwing.
Not Robin II either.
Not Gotham’s soft hearted little bruiser with his unshakable belief that people could be better if given the chance, shinning so bright in the dark as he held out a hand that even the Rogues had no choice but to believe right along with him sometimes. Not the tough little songbird they’d never get to see grow up. Unavenged and unhonored. Put in a box and buried in the ground with a name none of them would ever know carved into a stone they’d never be able to visit.
No.
It was a new Robin.
A new child with the R emblazoned upon his chest.
Sharp and quick and young in the way the birds always were when they started flying at the Bat’s side. Every inch of the boy’s tiny frame a tragedy and an insult. One very, very few of Gotham’s vicious underbelly were willing to tolerate.
Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham, but there was a damn big difference between holding something sacred and not giving a damn about it at all. There were rules unspoken but understood, a way things were done. Nothing so solid or concrete as a code of conduct, more a collection of time honored traditions. Blood for blood was among the oldest and truest, and the more precious the person taken the more vital and vicious payment was to be made in kind.
The Clown had killed Robin II.
Beaten the kid half to death and then finished the job with a bomb.
Everyone knew he’d done it laughing all the way.
The Bat should have done the same in kind. Done worse. It was justice, it was what was right. You kill a kid you’re marked forever. You kill one so well liked and kill ‘em like that and you’re destined for a cruel and cold death. The Bat had first dibs. It was his kid. It was his right to put an end to that awful laughter and let his son have peace at last.
But he never did.
Nightwing had. For a bit. For a moment.
Robin I, who half the time had scared them all more than the Bat ever could. Dazzling and dizzying and dangerous. Gave back the pain and hurt the Clown had forced upon him with clenched fists and bone shattering hits. They were glad for him, that he was able to beat the monster who had taken his little brother from him to death, that he was able to have such justice.
And then the Bat stepped in.
Revived the fucking Clown.
A slap in the face. The snapping crack of a spine beneath one straw too many. The final, unforgivable insult the man had dared visit upon not just the child taken from him but the entirety of Gotham.
The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. Respected their ferocity, admired their moxie, marveled at their ability to keep shining in the dark like they did. Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of the city’s dirty criminal underbelly from time to time.
He was a good kid.
He deserved better.
Better than the silence and peace he should be granted in death to be marred by the mad cackles of his killer still running around alive and unpunished. Better than his father giving up, returning to the same old routine as if nothing had happened at all. Better than the Bat snatching up a new bird less than a year later.
Gotham and her Rogues had given the Bat time enough to do what needed to be done.
It was their turn.
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sapphia · 1 year
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cleo is a comedic genius. setting up the etho is washed up thing in one episode and then subbing in the player who beat him in pvp 20 times in a row
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azzo0 · 2 months
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Katsuki misses when his daughter was younger, and he could fix her boo-boos with a bandage and a kiss. He could carry her in his arms, clean the scrapes she received while playing at the playground, smack on a cute Hello Kitty bandage, kiss it and get her to giggle. But now that she was older, she did not have scratches and scrapes to worry about. Her boo-boos came in other forms- Boys and heartbreaks, to be specific. 
He'd just come home from work to find his daughter cuddled into you, the teenager bawling her eyes out because some stupid guy she was seeing dumped her for no apparent reason. His heart shattered, watching her wipe her eyes with hiccups leaving her chest. He didn't enter the room. He just stood there, and his daughter caught his eye, quickly looking away and burying her head in her mother's hair. 
You shot him a pointed look, reminding him not to say something that would make her cry even more. Bakugo's fists clenched on his sides, crimson eyes bubbling with anger. His daughter peeked at him, wondering if he was mad at her. Her heart sank when he turned around and left. 
"Now Papa's mad at me too," She sniffled. 
"No, he's not," You stroke her hair, trying to calm her down. "Just give him some time, alright?"
"Mhm..." She lets you comfort her some more before you leave. 
She buried herself under the blanket and scrolled through her socials, blocking that dumb ex of hers from everywhere. Maybe Papa did know best after all. Maybe she should've listened when her father said the guy didn't give him good vibes. She sighed and pushed the phone under her pillow, trying to go to sleep to escape all the tears.
Just as she started to drift off, she heard the door open a creak and poked her head out of the blanket to see her father standing in the doorway with a plastic bag in hand, still in full hero gear.
"Can I come inside?" He asked. She sat up and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, nodding. 
Katsuki shuffled to her bed and cleared his throat, taking out all his daughter's favourite snacks from the plastic bag, "Erm- thought you'd like some... saw your favourite chocolate, so I bought that too. There's some of that crappy ramen you like. It's shit, but I'll allow it for now."
His daughter can't help but smile at him. So that's why he left without a word. To get her snacks and try to cheer her up. Or so she thinks, "Thank you, papa."
"'S nothin'" He stared at her awkwardly, not sure what to do next. He knew just snacks wouldn't fix a broken heart. He opened his arms for her, and she shifted closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Bakugo can't remember the last time he held her like this. It's been a while. This reminded him that no matter how old she was, he'd always be able to hold her like his little girl. He kissed her forehead and wiped tears from her eyes. 
"Don't waste yer tears, squirt," He said, "That asshole ain't worth yer pretty tears. Now open the snacks. I wanna try some."
Bakugo grins when she breaks into a goofy smile and opens a packet of spicy chips. He doesn't really eat this stuff, especially before dinner, but he'll make an exception for his little girl. He takes a chip and pops it into his mouth, glad she is smiling now. He held back a smirk when he thought of how she'd be rolling on the floor laughing when she saw her ex come to school with a bandage on his nose and a bruise on his cheek. 
Sure, he did not know how to fix her boo-boos anymore, but he sure did know how to beat the shit out of people who gave her the boo-boos. Even if it was a teenage boy far younger than him.
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delizbin · 5 months
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Effie’s first year as an escort was… interesting! Life threatens aside (and some death here and there), the parties and dresses were nice :)
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bluerosefox · 10 months
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Of Godsons, Fruitloops, and Lois 'I will drag all secrets out into the sun' Lane
Danny loses his parents due to their own lack of safety in the lab (death? Coma? People finally putting their foot down about the Fenton's endangering their kids? Idk pick). Jazz can't take him in due to being in college and living on its campus (and he didnt want to force her into an apartment just to keep him, he saw the prices and knows she'll have to work to make rent) and Danny fears the only place he can go to is... Vlad. (Sam's parents would never let him live with her and Tucker's place doesn't have the room)
Vlad's been lording it over Danny, smug about it all, after all he IS Danny's godfather and he has the space and money to provide for the boy in his time of need.
Only, when digging into Danny's files, his social worker discovers Vlad isn't Danny's godfather, he was meant to be but the Fenton's forgot to send/sign in the final paperwork (even if those documents were the only contact they had with Vlad over the years before the reunion)
No Danny's godparent, the person to take him should anything happen to the Fenton's is....
Lois Lane.
His mom's childhood friend.
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swan2swan · 15 days
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This line is one of my Absolute Favorites from this show, because it really digs right into the new world that the kids are in:
They're not kids anymore.
There's a furious man threatening harm to Bumpy and her friends, and Sammy puts herself square in the middle of the argument, turns on the charm and promises that she'll make it up to him...and when he doesn't acquiesce, she immediately turns Stern. She bluntly tells him to go home. As an adult talking to another adult.
She has her own property. Her own life. Her own world. She has authority now. The days where they're kids hiding from robots or businessmen or sneaking away from big game hunters and mercenaries are over. Sammy has land, she has responsibilities, and she's not backing down from them. Sammy Gutierrez is an adult woman, and she's going to act like one.
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tanglepelt · 1 year
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Dc x dp idea 38
We know jack had a witch hunter in his family line. Let’s make him competent at it. Make him also go after other supernatural beings. He’s super good at capturing, detaining, banishing and even killing the entities. To bad he doesn’t care about any safety precautions.
It ends with the family line essentially being cursed. They were being hunted and stuff. The reason the fentonnightingales just turned into Fenton was to hide from the beings.
When Danny dies and comes back there presence is made known again. It did take a powerful event to become an halfa. Suddenly the family is being hunted again.
The Fenton parents love it. They have more entries to research and capture now.
Jazz and Danny not so much. Jazz ends up taking Danny away from amity to see if that would stop the constant attacks.
No one in the infinite realm gave and advice on how to get them to leave them alone. Frostbite only warns not to go ghost unless he has to. Apparently if the entities knew he was a halfa more powerful threats may want to attack him.
The two siblings are discovered by the JLD after a very powerful entity tried to attack them.
Now the two are basically hanging out with the JLD while they figure out how to fix it. The last name trick would not work a second time. That and anyone with any magic can feel the death magic on danny.
Danny refuses to elaborate on why he feels like death itself. Until one day a world ending threat tries to take out the siblings. Apparently fentonnightingale had sealed it away and it only just broke the bindings.
The JLD needed some artifacts or item to reseal it. But when it grabs Jazz. Danny goes ballistic and transforms.
Turns out most things won’t mess with Danny or his sister anymore. He one shot a super powerful entity and apparently had three marks of protection from the ancients. Those being frostbite, clockwork, and pandora.
Frostbite only told him not to transform was because clockwork told him not to.
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noxcheshire · 13 days
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Might be blasphemy within the Danny Phantom fandom but I just cannot see Danny x Sam being an actual ship regardless of it being canon in the actual show and now book.
Even as a kid I thought it was weird and couldn’t figure out why that bothered me, and I think now it’s because I never saw any indication of Sam or Danny ever being actually romantically attracted with each other. To be fair I saw that show when I was little, and maybe I’ll see those romantic moments that the show was building to if I can find actual length videos of the episodes.
But at this moment, I can’t recall ever having seen it.
And it baffles me, because I kinda don’t feel like Sam really loved Danny, even as a friend. And I think that really showed in the episode with her wish that changed the structure of time and space so that Danny never died and she was never friends with Danny and Tucker.
If she loved Danny, regardless if it was as a potential lover or friend, she would never have allowed him to die. Not once, but twice.
The first, okay, it was an accident. Kids do dumb things all the time, the more potentially dangerous it is the better — but the second time? The second time was deliberate.
She put him into that suit, without explanation, and without assurance. Nothing but a change of his hero signature.
She didn’t hesitate to let him die again, instead of asking herself if she could stomach watching him go through that again.
What person who loved you could do that to you? Could stand to see you go through that pain?
I feel a good example of love as well, especially in the show, is Jazz. She loves Danny, as a sibling, as a friend, and with all that love she would choose to walk herself into that portal then to let Danny do it instead.
She shows that deep love for Danny to the audience by choosing to protect him from their parents so they would never know he is the ghost boy that they want to rip apart molecule by molecule because she doesn’t want to take the chance of loosing him twice.
Jazz wanted to do that.
So why couldn’t Sam?
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skeleton-squid-boy · 10 months
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THIS is why they are the best sherlock/watson he has FULL faith in her ability to brain a man and that is ESSENTIAL to their dynamic
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