Art For My Fic Who's Old Now?

Pandora, Ancient of Hope, is curious about the Blue Lantern Corps, and would like to meet them, make sure that her domain is not being abused. She'll ask Danny during their next Brunch&Fight.

Fear vs Fear

Danny was doing homework when Fright knight came to him.

FK: I would like your permission to go out on a Quest.

DP: Why are you asking me?

FK: You are the Guardian of the portal, a keeper of balance, and may be the next ghost king. So i ask your leave.

DP: What is this quest?

FK: It has come to my attention that there is a energy entity out in the stars who claims to be the emotional embodiment of fear and is powering this "Sinestro Corps" to do heinious deeds in the name of fear and terror. I seek to eliminate this corps and give this "Parallax" a beating and a lesson in true fear.

DP: Parallax sounds like a pharmaceutical drug or a laxative.

FK: Fear work well as a laxative. Your friend Tucker knows this very well.

DP: I thought you were the embodiment of fear?

FK: I AM.

DP: OK permission uh granted i guess.

Fright Knight bows then turns to go but is interrupted.

DP: oh and Fright knight?

FK: Hmm?

DP: win.

FK: of course.

Alfred has several industrial dishwashers. Everything is in and out is 30 seconds. The ventilation is great in the dishes room (yes there's an entire room dedicated to them) because the steam is so intense.

sometimes I feel like fics inadvertently overlook how much food the Batfamily, as a team of fully active vigilantes running on minimum sleep cycles and constantly getting into fights (and situations where they need to lift heavy items, hold onto buildings, sprint/jog) must need to consume every week.

like yes, Alfred cooks and Bruce has his smoothies but do you know how many calories they must all need just to be upright? How much protein? Add in the fact that half of them are still growing/in puberty and I just cringe thinking about how many dishes and grocery trips that must be.

Bruce was not panicking.

He was most specifically not panicking. Because if he panicked, this teenager, this child, bleeding in his arms, would die.

The robbers on Elm Street could wait. Oracle had already directed Nightwing to the robbers getaway vehicle. Dick had been complaining for days that he hadn't had a good car chase in weeks. He got his wish.

But this child, Daniel, was Bruce's priority. His disorientation was concerning. He'd gone from mostly aware and coherent to unconscious in such a short period of time, after obviously having been cognizant enough to get away from his abuser. The rapid deterioration gave Bruce an indication of what type of poison it was, at the very least.

Bruce carefully buckled the child into the passenger seat of the Batmobile, tilting the seat and Daniel's head so he wouldn't choke on his own blood before they got to the Batcave.

"Agent A," Bruce growled, the Batmobile rumbling beneath him as he hit the gas, "Prepare medbay and the lab for a tox screen. Victim is a teenager, orphan, Daniel, most likely not from Gotham. Came with his godfather, the one who poisoned him,"

"Symptoms?" Alfred asked, steady as always, and Bruce appreciated that more than anything.

"Disorientation and confusion leading into unconsciousness, rapid decline. Bleeding from mouth, nose," Bruce glanced over at Daniel and his mouth thinned, "Eyes, and ears. Cold body temperature, thready pulse," Bruce paused, considering. "Too cold, possible meta. We'll have to test for the gene before intensive treatment,"

"Acknowledged. Shall I set Red Hood on discovering the identity of the young man and his godfather?"

Bruce paused. Thought it over for a second. Then he glanced at Daniel, heard his desperate pleas to save him, help him, keep him away.

"Remind Hood not to kill,"

"Will do,"

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.

Anxieties! Attack!

Yyyyeah, this stuff is 'pay to play'. You don't have to be popular, or good, you just need to pay.

Wish over Mutant Mayhem and Nimona?????

here is an extremely high resolution picture of a mole

You’re immortal, and have passed the ‘hero’ phase centuries ago. You enter a small coffee shop one day to find that it’s owned by your millennia-old arch-nemesis. You really, really just want a chai latte though.