De-aged Dead On Main

writing for me only exists in extremes either it's like pulling out each of your teeth with pliers one by one or it's like having to perform an exorcism before it bursts out of your chest and splatters across the page like some newborn beast clawing its way into the light

Dan: NOBODY MESSES WITH THESE KIDS-

Realizes the teen heroes are Right There.

Dan: Uh, except me. Muahah.

Dan, reformed after three millennia in an isolated time pocket and lots of therapy, decides to try being a hero again.

Only, he's not very good at it. He looks fucking terrifying, and when people see him they tend to run towards the actual danger to get away.

So he's hanging out, invisible, on a random cities rooftop, when a pair of kid vigilantes plop down and start complaining how their mentors don't trust them ecause they haven't had any real combat experience. But to get experience, they need to be out there!

So while these teenagers plan something monumentally stupid, Dan realizes he has a unique opportunity.

Dan becomes a training villain.

A villain that specifically is meant to test kid vigilantes.

He does stupid, petty villain shit and the adult heroes quickly realize that this villain, instead of hurting their kid sidekicks, is teaching them between blows.

Dan's powers are nothing to sneeze at, so a kid vigilante holding their own against him for at least four minutes is considered impressive.

But he never, ever, hurts the kids.

There was an incident where another villain hurt a kid in front of Dan.

No one knows where that villain is.

@simplestoryteller

I saw a post saying that Boromir looked too scruffy in FotR for a Captain of Gondor, and I tried to move on, but I’m hyperfixating. Has anyone ever solo backpacked? I have. By the end, not only did I look like shit, but by day two I was talking to myself. On another occasion I did fourteen days’ backcountry as the lone woman in a group of twelve men, no showers, no deodorant, and brother, by the end of that we were all EXTREMELY feral. You think we looked like heirs to the throne of anywhere? We were thirteen wolverines in ripstop.

My boy Boromir? Spent FOUR MONTHS in the wilderness! Alone! No roads! High floods! His horse died! I’m amazed he showed up to Imladris wearing clothes, let alone with a decent haircut. I’m fully convinced that he left Gondor looking like Richard Sharpe being presented to the Prince Regent in 1813

*electric guitar riff*

And then rocked up to Imladris a hundred ten days later like

Danny sees no problem with this. Fighting is how ghosts say hello, after all, and establishing territory is important! Danny was in Damian's territory, a friendly fight was a good reaction! (He was, again, forgetting that human reactions meant different things, but he would only remember that later.) Danny was rather enjoying pulling out some moves from extinct martial arts to use against Damain. Every deflect and fancy maneuver sparked interest in jade green eyes, and Danny wanted Damian to keep looking at him. All eyes were on him as he vaulted over the table, narrowly missing the knife thrown at him and the tea set on the table.

Phantom had just picked up a bouquet of roses from the flower shop. No real reason for it, it was just near Valentine's day and he thought he would treat himself cause why not?

Well, he got caught up in a rouge attack and thankfully managed to keep his invisibility throughout. His roses weren't so lucky as they went flying through the air and were caught by a boy around his age. One of the vigilantes who liked to run around Gotham.

It was while the guy was staring at the roses looking completely dumbfounded that Danny realized bird boy was kinda hot. With nothing better to do and unable to return to his home dimension and having wiped the memory of everything Ghost zone and Danny related from his friends and families minds, he had found himself with a lot of free time.

He actually makes it a game to just chunk flowers and chocolates and other gifts at Robin whenever he got the chance and remain unseen while doing it.

Damian is both frustrated and impressed. He has yet to so much as spot his admirer(?) throughout the past week or so of being pelted with objects. Grayson has been insufferable with his cooing and Drake has become strangely overprotective. His other siblings had rather lukewarm responses, Brown just asked to be kept up to date, Todd laughed and called him a "little Romeo" which Damian found insulting, Cain commented on the situation calling it "cute" and Thomas asked if he could have some of the candy.

Damian himself has grown rather fond of the person and the gifts. That is, until the gifts became more and more personalized.

The first time he caught a package containing the expensive brand of paints he had been running low on, he had dismissed it as a coincidence. Maybe his admirer had good taste or knowledge of art? Later he received a replacement grooming brush in the exact same brand, style and color as the one Alfred the cat had before it was broken two days ago in one of his siblings mishaps. These kinds of thing kept happening and Damian was content to ignore it.

The final straw came went he came out of his bathroom after a shower and found a note praising him for his artwork in unfamiliar handwriting laying innocently on his desk.

Not a single one of the traps in his room had been sprung. He refused to admit he was frightened as he grabbed the note and went to speak with the others.

that ‘pakige?’ post but me, a couple hours after posting a fic, like ‘comints?’

You guys just have to trust me on this one and click here okay?

Why does self care look so much like a party size can of pringles?

Danny: Yeah, he does that, lol.

John: ?!?

Prompt 131

Okay, so first of all Dan would like to say it’s not his fault. Ellie was the one to bring some unknown object into the speeder and Jazz was the one driving. Or had Sam been driving- didn’t matter! It wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t the one shooting at them, he wasn’t the one to break whatever, he was not the one to open a stupid portal, and so it wasn’t his fault! 

So why is he now like, five years old, and why is the speeder crashed in some sort of corn field. Why is everyone- except for Jazz whose now like six- also like three at most?! And- oh fuck the door just opened and… okay that’s a kid. Like, nine at most. 

A kid and an adult, who he hadn’t noticed at first so again, it’s not his fault if he hissed at them and tried to hide his not-siblings behind him. It’s also not fair they’re apparently stuck to ghost speak for who knows how long, but at least they can understand the people. 

“Martha, get some blankets, it’s happened again!” 

100000 likes!

Huh. Whoops?

Art trade with @hermesserpent-stuff !

Their oc, Ella Osborn!