@hermesserpent-stuff Right Back At You.

Constantine: There are hyper specific manners, and if you break them you will join the kings court as an undead thrall.

Batman: Okay. Young man, you need to eat healthy.

Danny Phantom, teenager, also King of the Infinite Realms: Okay Mr. Batman.

Put That Thing Back Where it Came From or So Help Me-

Constantine was pacing back and forth in the waiting room, hands flying as he went over the rules of dealing with Infinite Realm Nobility for the eighteenth time.

Bruce tried to pay attention, really. But he'd already memorized this speech of the Laughing Magicians, and all there was really left to do was wait for their turn to meet the High King.

A flash of movement caught Bruce's attention, and he found his eyes drawn to a completely human teenager meandering his way from one of the side doors and towards the refrigerator stocked with "mortal friendly snacks".

Bruce kept quiet as he heard the teen muttering to himself about "aw yeah fuck yeah fiji water fuck yes", and let Constantine drone on and on about how they were probably the first mortals the King had ever met.

The teenager behind the ranting man stocked his arms full of Fiji water, chips, and cosmic brownies.

Then the Teen turned and realized Bruce was watching him.

Bruce shook his head minutely.

The teen slowly turned back to the fridge and put everything but the Fiji water back. That and the cosmic brownie.

Cautious blue eyes met his, and the kid raised an eyebrow.

Bruce scowled.

The brownie was quickly replaced with a banana.

Bruce gave a slight nod and looked away.

The teen darted back through the side door.

He didn't know who the kid was, but eating healthy was important. And, okay, maybe his own experience with kids had shoved its way to the front of his brain and taken over.

At least the random teenager in the Land of the Dead would have a healthy snack.

Two more minutes passed before the small entourage was allowed into the antechamber.

A glowing, floating boy was hovering just above the throne. White hair, glowing green eyes, a crown that looked like it was made of shattered pieces of space glittering above his head-and a poorly hidden half empty bottle of Fiji water peeking out at them from behind the throne, kept company by a single banana.

...Huh.

He had either told the Kings servant what to feed the King, or...

"Welcome to the Infinite Realms, I am Phantom, High King. For what reason do you seek an audience?"

Oh. Nope, nevermind on the servant theory. That was the kids voice.

Bruce had directly told the King of an entire dimension what he could and could not eat.

reblog to give the person you reblogged from the strength to complete The Task™

Great eared nightjar

Danny: What? You think we're what? No, no, it's ghosts. They came predead, already dead, free with a side of constant invasion. Zombies? Who told you that?

Bart:... The government?

Danny: And you believed them?

Bart: Zombies are real!

Danny: I'm aware. I'm saying you shouldn't trust the government and what they say.

Tim: If you don't trust the government, why are you doing taxes?

Danny: Because I don't trust them not to buy hitmen for the IRS, keep up.

It's Danny's first time doing his taxes, and he's reaching out to an online friend to help him. This is how he discovers that as far as the rest of the world is concerned, Amity Park is a barely contained zombie outbreak.

He'd made an online friend, Bart, and they played video games a lot.

Danny's fulltime job is inventing alongside his parents, and as that makes him self-employed (he doesn't work for his parents just next to them), this makes his taxes a little...scary. And it's his first tax season.

He reaches out to Bart, and asks if he knows anyone who files as self employed and if they'd be able to give him some guidance.

He can't ask his parents because, apparently, they've just been throwing random numbers on the papers and have no interest in actually doing them. Danny would like to do this properly.

Also he would like to know how his parents haven't been arrested? Questions for later.

So he shoots a message to Bart, who's apparently in the middle of some sort of sleepover with all of his old friends. Bart assures him that it's fine, and they'll all pitch in to help.

They just need to know his city and state so that the nerd of the group, some guy named Tim, can look up local state and city tax law.

When he tells them he's from Amity Park, there's no response for a good ten minutes.

What follows is a barely legible request for a phone number to call, and a group of people on the other side shouting and asking how he's avoided dying in the hellscape zombie apocalypse that is Amity Park.

Danny has no idea what the other shit means, but he's not about to dodge a chance to make a dead joke when he has one.

"I mean. If you wanna get technical, I didn't. Is...that something that'll effect my taxes?"

OR: The GIW has been lying to keep the Justice League and Justice League Dark out of Amity Park by declaring it a Disaster Zone, stating that not only is there massive pollutants in the air and soil, but that the undead run rampant and are barely contained. The wording they use, however, is a little weird upon closer inspection. It never specifies zombie, and it never says what pollutants. Danny's not super interested about that, though; he just wants to pay his taxes so that the IRS doesn't kill him in his sleep.

actually @ every fanfiction writer whether you wrote something that got thousands of reblogs and comments and became a staple in your fandom, or you wrote one fic and deleted it, or you write mutilchaptered fics that never get a final update, or write short fics, or long fics, or used to write and now you don’t, or you deleted/orphaned your works, or you only share with friends:

thank you.

sharing your writing is hard. and sometimes it’s thankless. sometimes it’s such a negative experience that I wonder how anyone does it at all. but you are needed; you are wanted. whether or not we properly acknowledge it, you are a vital part of fandom culture. thanks for sharing.

For @st-whalefall from chapter seven of their story In the Hall of the Mountain King. Dialogue taken straight from their story. It's a really amazing read!

i used to be too shy to interact w fanfic authors, but after i finally started to do so, that i realised they're the same @ me

People underestimate how much it fucks you up to be subtly excluded as a kid. I would try to talk to my classmates and be met with disinterest or annoyance. The one friend I had, who I clung to and nodded along to his every word, had other friends he liked just as much or more. And his other friends didn’t care for me at all.

I look back at pictures from the time and see how separated I was from them. I remember knowing I was different. I remember posing questions about the world to the girls playing next to me and realizing that they had never asked the same ones to themselves. That the ways we thought couldn’t be more different.

I kept myself amused with my own fanatical stories and musings in my head. I would wander the playground on a circular path, imagining a friend and being sorely disappointed when it didn’t feel as real as I’d hoped.

There was a bubble separating me from everyone else, thin, and nearly invisible, but with a pearly sheen you could catch under the right conditions. I knew it was there, they knew it was there, and it changed me

John looks at the kid. Is he going to do it? Is he going to be the responsible adult? No, that sounds horrible. And it isn't effecting the kid anyway...

But it's a bad example... And he can't let the kid get away with stealing his flask, right? Yeah, he's being petty, not responsible. Right? Right.

I am positively feral of the idea that John Constantine is an ex of both Maddie and Jack Fenton. Imagine the possibilities. They’re endless.

ok i think what gets me about the kind of post that's like '[children's media] has child soldiers, where are their parents!!' is that those stories really and truly aren't for people who'll think about that, they're for the people the children's age, who don't, for the most part, want to be kept safe or told they're too young to participate in the world, they want to be given a sword