DP x DC AU
Danny's gonna adopt all the Halfas in Gotham whether he wants to or not, and it's gonna start with the little dead girl he found after crawling out of that portal in the league base.
Pt 2 here. My Au Art
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There's a dead little girl sitting on the rug in front of Danny's coffee table curiously eating Cheetos.
Well, she's not all the way dead, only half, could even be a little less then that, Danny would know he's sort of the leading expert on being half dead.
Her skins blue, like comic book mystique blue, vibrant and impossible to miss. Shes got these big black eyes and a nasty split going straight through her upper lip to just under her right eye.
She's also missing her nose, it's just gone, no cartilage left over just the gaping nasal cavity like skulls have.
The little girl looks dead, she is dead, or she's at least as dead as Danny is which is almost exclusively in name only.
Her name is Curaré, Danny only knows it because it's been branded into the skin of the little girls neck, just under the curve of her bald skull.
Curaré is terribly thin, the little toddler sized T-shirt she has on hangs loose around her torso where baby fat should fill it out.
She's horrible to look at, a tiny nightmare, her corpse like coloring doing nothing to mitigate the appearance.
Curaré was neither a healthy nor normal little girl, there was no way Danny could have left that league facility without her.
Oh and she almost exclusively spoke in Spanish which made finding her dinner hard.
Not that Cheetos are really dinner, little kids need to eat more then that Danny was pretty sure, like 89% sure. Although they did have a lot of calories...
Danny tilts his head absently as he looks at her, the little demon being illuminated red and green by the glow of the TV. She's enraptured by the Scooby doo rerun Gotham's only spanish language channel is playing tonight.
As if she can feel his eyes she turns to him and tilts her head the same way.
Danny blinks at her, Curaré blinks back.
" Uh- " Danny starts, trying to remember anything from his Spanish elective from sophomore year. God, his teacher had been right he had needed to study more. " The Cheetos, you like them? They're uh...bueno? Oh! Son Buenos?"
He points his finger down at the snack sized bag in her grasp, her fingers are tiny , they must be so fragile, looking at the desperate grasp they have on the bag makes Danny's chest hurt. How could anyone be so small? Had Danny ever been that small?
Curaré blinks again, long and slow, processing Danny's words. She looks down at her Cheetos and back up at Danny then she carefully holds the bag out to him.
" Oh no that's ok they're for you kiddo" Danny insists.
Curaré shakes the bag at him, like enticing a stray cat with treats but he only shakes his head again.
She gives up after that, shrugging and turning back to her cartoons.
Inside her chest Danny can feel her ghost core vibrate placidly as Scooby and Shaggy run across the TV in a panic.
Danny's own core can't help but try to match it's frequency, a low contented humming echoes between them, safe it seems to say.
Curaré can't be older then 4, which means she was resurrected young and that she died even younger. Danny doesn't know how any of it happened, halfas aren't created easily, the amount of energy needed...
She's so small.
He hopes it was fast, whatever it was that did this to her, made her like him.
Danny also hopes that her injuries aren't permanent. Some ghosts keep the carnage of their corpses well into the after life but as a Halfa Curaré should heal, even if she got those injuries during her ressurction. For her sake it'll be much easier to find some sense of normalcy if she isn't always actively bleeding, even if the blood itself is just an ecto-echo of real blood.
Danny curls his knees up to his chest and hides his face for a moment just trying to breathe. He's too young to be taking care of a toddler, he's still six months away from turning 18 and hes got school on Monday. His eyes burn and his throat constricts as he tries to swallow.
No one else but Danny would know how to take care of Curaré, and she's got no family to try and stumble their way through it. Danny can't take her back to the league and he sure as hell isn't going to search for whoever put that brand on her neck.
Even if he dropped her off at the fire station Gotham only has one Meta focused orphanage, it's state run and all the kids in it have to wear little prison style jump suits. And the food sucks, Danny can personally vouch for that.
She doesn't have a home, she's just as out of place here in Gotham as Danny is. Danny really wishes, not for the first time, that he had an adult here. Like Jazz or hell even Mr. Fuckin Lancer.
Just anyone. Anyone who could tell Danny what to do about this. Who could help him out with the child he's suddenly acquired.
He wishes anyone else was here so it wouldn't just be him and Curaré. Two dead kids sitting on the floor of a studio apartment in the Bowery watching cartoons.
What a pair the two of them will make, oh God. Danny laughs as a few tears stain his jeans.
Curaré makes a curious little noise that has Danny forcing his head up. She's reached the inevitable end of her snack sized bag and she looks absolutely devastated. She turns to look at him, tilting the empty bag towards him as if to say ' can you believe this shit!'
Danny can't help but give her a watery smile, no more crying Fenton, and wipes his nose on the back of his hand.
" Okay, one thing at a time." Danny tells himself. " You finished your Cheetos and now it's time for dinner, right? Stop me if I'm wrong."
Curaré just looks at him.
Danny's not worried, they're gonna have all the time in the world to teach her to appreciate humour and also English.
" I'm going to take that as a yes. " Danny hops up off the floor and goes to find his phone, nobody does dinner like the local Batburger.
Little foot steps follow him into the hallway, he'll have to get used to that sound he's going to be hearing it a lot.
Food first, everything would be better after they ate.
...............
For BG I imagine he's been living in Gotham for a few months and found Curaré while popping in and out of different portals in Gotham. (Who woulda guessed that some portal in Gotham leads right to the lazarus pit)
Note: if u wanna see cool art for this AU it's all in the Danny and the little dead girl au tag on my pg!
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one thing that annoys me is people reading yangchen’s books and acting like she should be this bloodthirsty assassin.
the point of yangchen’s character isn’t that she revels in violence. it’s that she would forsake her cultural beliefs for the sake of the world if she saw it necessary. and she did.
and the air nomads punished her for it.
because they were still a living and thriving culture that could hold their own accountable.
while the rest of the world held her in high regard for her efforts, even in death, there were those from her culture that wouldn’t let her deeds go unpunished on the permanent record.
aang doesn’t have that.
he can do whatever he wants and the rest of the world wouldn’t care. no one will ever hold him accountable for his cultural missteps so he has to. that’s why it’s important to aang to hold himself to his beliefs. to keep his people and culture alive.
do you ever watch celebrities talk about being famous? how they know they have legions of fans that will praise them no matter what? and how terrifying that is to them? how important family is to them? because those are the people that keep them grounded. do you line what that feels like? to be inherently famous and have no one left in your family to keep you grounded? to be a human that’s only ever seen as a god?
no, you don’t. i don’t. but that is the life aang lives.
it’s why people who complain about the finale are annoying. it’s why people using yangchen to downplay his choice is also annoying. and it’s why people acting like yangchen had nothing to lose are extremely annoying. because her choices cost her a lot. and it hurt her. because she loved her people too.
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Accidents.
includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. suggestive.
warnings— daddy kink. predator/prey undertones. keigo being a meanie.
You wish the ground would just swallow you whole before his smug look does.
"Don't let it get to your head! Keigo—" You squeak, covering your own face with one hand and pushing his away with the other. Your palm does nothing to quell the mischievous laughing fit that your boyfriend doesn't seem to have the courtesy nor self control to keep to himself.
Don't let it get to his head? His head couldn't be any bigger in this moment.
He seizes the opening to situate himself on top of you with ease, keeping you caged beneath him so he can bear witness to the full extent of your misery. Your hands lie helpless, locked under his hold and pinned above your head to leave you wide open. He wants nothing obstructing his view of your dreadfully desperate squirms.
He considers locking your legs in place beneath his, too. It wouldn't be difficult at all to overpower you, but the butterfly kicks behind his back that ruffle the sheets beneath are just too delicious to watch.
Your bedroom has become a locked box of your whimpers and flails, and he loves it. What he wouldn't give to cage you here and throw away the key.
"Keigo...? Sorry, dunno who that is." His eyes roll in time with his shoulders, while that wicked grin never falters.
"Could've sworn you were just calling me something else," he sings above you. He purses his lips like he just can't catch his thought. Bastard. You'd be screaming into your hands if you had access to them. "What was it you said... What was it..." he hums a devilish, giddy tune, turning to catch your eye.
"Care to remind me?"
"You're an asshole!"
"No, that's not quite what you called me."
You huff in response, opting to stare at the ceiling behind him. Anywhere but that stupid, god-awful, pretty face of his. Maybe if you try to pull your wrists free, he'd take pity on you and— nope, still not giving an inch of leeway.
He notices your weak attempt. Poor thing, he thinks. You don't actually think there's anywhere to run, do you? Your halfhearted flailing underneath him is cute though, he'll give you that. So cute. Almost as cute as your little slip-up that got you into this fucking mess.
This is your mess, you know. You did start it, after all, and who is Keigo if not a man who finishes the job? It'd be criminal to not keep this game going for as long as it'll take to satisfy his instinct to torment you.
He's not a sadist, he swears.
He just knows prey when he sees it.
"Kei', I didn't— can you please just let this go?" You finally look at him with those puppy dog eyes. In another circumstance, they would get him to do whatever you want; but for once, he decides to be selfish. He's just having too much fun.
"Why should I? Don't tell me you're embarassed," he posits, as if you aren't the picture of shame incarnate beneath him. "Nothin' to be embarassed about, doll." He closes the gap between you, nose barely brushing the line of your jaw before he dares to have a taste. "Plenty of people would jump at the oppurtunity to call me da—"
"Hawks!"
"Oooh, yet another name and you still won't repeat the one from earlier. Gonna hurt my feelings, baby." Raptor eyes zero in on the juncture of your neck. When you strain to turn your head away from him, you leave your jugular completely exposed. He sighs. You're fucking helpless. He supposes that's why he's the pro hero, and you're just the little hare captured betwixt his talons.
With a finality settling in his gut, he latches on and sinks his canines into you. You go limp below with the hitch of a breath, kicks slowing to a halt.
"You know, I think I like this." When his hands release yours, he's sure your muscles won't even twitch. Frozen under his spell, you are the moth to his proverbial flame; the rabbit in his headlights.
"I think that name is already one of my favorites. You'll say it again for me, won't you? Tell me..."
"Who's your fucking daddy?"
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the sonic fandubs mean everything to me
[id: a four-part comic with sonic and shadow:
in the first two parts, they're drawn in color in halfbody shots. shadow is solemnly gazing at the green chaos emerald that he has floating in his hands, his ears pinned back. sonic is looking upward at something, shading his eyes. he brightly says, "Shadow, Shadow you're an asshole man."
closing his eyes and gesturing with one hand, Shadow casually replies, "You are what you eat, Sonic." sonic stares at him blankly, taken off guard.
in the last two parts, the view is pulled back to see them as fullbodies shots, and they're single-colored (shadow red, sonic blue) and in a more basic stick figure art style. "What the- what the hell man? oh my god," sonic exclaims, surprised, while shadow just kind of looks at him.
then sonic leans forward a little, points at him, and cheekily says, "that was kinda sick!" with an awkward laugh, shadow puts a hand on a hip and replies, "thanks I worked hard on it." end id]
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