#presumed alien Danny

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

:) Heyyy you gremlins of the Forest, seas and alleyways! I have sustenance for you

🌊💧🐚 Siren Everlasting trio + Dan and Ellie 🐚💧🌊

So now on to the plot! Danny with Sam and Tucker [+ fetus Dan and Ellie] have to leave their world and before they can get out the GIW got Danny by being turned over by his parents and in clear Dc X Dp fashion we traumatize the fuck out of this boy and after the traumatizing Sam and Tucker break into the GIW base and ‘Take care of’ ( Kinda Yandere Sam and Tucker let’s go! ) and they take him ( he already has Ellie and dans core in him so….three for one deal ) and they head to clockworks place and explains the problem and what do they do now???

And for clockworks side of this he knows they can’t stay in the ghost zone because even if Sam and Tucker are extremely practically ghost at this point and will most definitely be ghost when they die ( but that in the FAR future because ✨ecto-contamination✨ ) but they are still considered human enough to the point they can’t stay in the ghost zone so they can’t stay with here but there is a deserted mostly water planet where the inhabitants ( this is where the presume aliens come in) are like the sea animals that live there but more alien and stuff and due to the ecto their body can adapt to the environment and with his powers he can make it almost instantly so that would work { sorry if this is a bit of word vomit I don’t know what do word it }

And Sam and Tucker are chill with plan because they get everything they want with this

They get

To stay with the love of their lives (and afterlives)

get to have their children (yes they have already claimed Ellie and Dan as their children and NO ONE can stop them) safe and cared for

Have their Love heal and be safe

And with the added bonus with beatass new siren like forms that they can use to protect their love

So their good with this plan and Danny just wants him and his family ( Sam and Tucker his Lovers and Ellie and Dan his children) to be safe and happy so he’s also chill with this and they tell clockwork as much he opens a portal to said planet and as soon as Sam, Tucker and Danny step into the water they turn into their more siren/mermaid like form

Danny’s form is a lot more white beta fish

Tucker’s is more shark like 

Sam’s form looks more like a eels

They all are pretty big compared to humans or well normal humans, Now onto their home/cave it is in the more deep part of waters and Danny spends a lot of time in the cave due to being pregnant with Ellie and Dan + Sam and Tucker protectiveness, well Sam and Tucker are hanging around him or are getting food….and that’s all I can I think of for now but probably going to add more after post

Now onto the DC part of this so someone or something alerts the JL about a planet that is not supposed to have sentient life so a team ( Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Flash, aqua man) go to check it out and they end up in a submarine and are trying to find where that sentient life is so this can go two ways for how The everlasting trio and the JL meet

The FIRST way that the team is in the submarine and get a little bit to close to the cave for Sam’s and tuckers likings ( which is no where near Danny and the baby’s did I mention that in these forms that their instincts kick into overdrive and add that with pregnant Lover not a good combo ) and so Sam and Tucker take the only option in is situation which is slap it around enough so what’s in side of it to drown *Cue Instincts yelling for them to take the body’s and feed them to pregnant mate* and for the JL point of view in this their just waving their way through the water trying to find what is making the sensor go off and all the sudden their being beating around the water by the looks of it two giant alien mer-people that are clearly pissed off about something and this goes on for a few minutes and the submarine is about to start taking on water if the mer-Aliens don’t stop hitting the sub!!! And while this was happening Danny is taking a nap ( which Sam and Tucker were to before the JL showed up ) and Danny wakes up because he hears….yelling??? So still a bit tired he gets out from the cave to find where they are and he finds them beating a sub around like their playing catch so of course he interrupts and now back to the JL view point they see a third mer-alien and it seems to be upset about something and almost immediately the other two stop hitting the sub to go comfort the third one….that is showing and they all have this collective thought “So that why they were so upset! We got to close to the baby’s!” And that’s about it for the first way this could go

The SECOND way is that Danny just swimming outside the cave ( Sam and Tucker are doing…something ) and he comes across this sub and of course he’s curious about it so he goes to check it out and for the JL this showing mer-alien just comes up to the sub and starts to swim around it and seems curious about it while letting out chips and hums ( in these forms talking sounds like chips/hums/growl ) and when they try to make contact they seem to understand what their trying to convey until their mates show up and their very upset…

And now time for the details of design for Danny I’m thinking this

But instead of legs because you know… mer person ( and the jewelry is given to him by Sam and Tucker instincts go brrr)

And this is is the kinda fish I’m thinking Danny’s form takes after

For Sam I’m thinking but just get rid of the bag and lantern and cling the dress around her hips and make it shorter and that really what I’m thinking

For the top {I really can’t find anything for tucker and Sam that I’m thinking for this so..} and this is the pic for the tail but of course make it purple and black…yes I know there are pics of purple and black eels this one is the search that looks like it’s not going to steal my soul 

And for tucker….I really can’t find what I’m thinking about so you just get words this time so his just shirtless that’s it maybe he has a few arm bands and some fabric around his waist but that really it for his thought process

Oh and here’s the pic that I’m thinking his mer half takes after

And that’s about it for my thoughts hope you gremlins like it byeeee

[stealingyourbones]

Hi! So I was into DP years ago, then earlier this year got into Batfam fics, then saw my first DC x DP crossover and just 💥

So now I’m on a new obsession that has me reading every one of your prompts and any stories that come from it and I just had this one flood my brain:

Presumed Alien Danny

So for [insert reason here] Danny has to flea Amity and the living world to stay in the Zone. He’s injured, and therefore forced to use the Fenton Specter Speeder, and flies it into the portal. Only, whether due to a malfunction, Clockwork, or something else, instead of the Ghost Zone, the Speeder gets spat out of a portal in the DC universe.

So, on the other side, the Watchtower gives an alert that an unknown energy is spiking nearby, and then a spaceship/pod looking thing comes flying out of a flash of green. It’s spinning out of control, and headed for a desert on Earth. A team is dispatched, I’m thinking Superman (alien), Green Lantern (alien law enforcement) and Batman (obvious. Kid bait).

So they get there within moments of the crash, find the thing totaled, Superman hears a strange, humming/thrumming accompanied by groans, and he cracks what’s left of it open to see this green-eyed, white-haired kid with very bad injuries and green blood covering what looks like it could have been some kind of space suit. He grabs the kid, gets him out, and Lantern makes a shield that contains the massive explosion that leaves the ship/pod nothing but charred bits lying scattered across the sand.

They get the clearly alien child to the watchtower for medical help, and though they heal very quickly they still need a lot of stitches, mainly because the first set melted and they had to use ones designed for metas with corrosive abilities.

Then, a day or so later, still healing but not in danger, the kid wakes up, stares wide-eyed at the people around him, and exclaims something I a strange language.

Yeah, definitely alien.

Danny wakes up, sees a bunch of weird, costumed people all around him, and tries to ask what the heck is going on. They all stare in confusion. One guys, who’s glowing green but a different shade, had a ring that starts speaking in a different language.

So, I figure, in an alternate dimension, the English language developed differently, so Danny’s English and the DCU’s English aren’t the same. Hence more Misunderstandings.

Also, if Connor is in this, it’s not until after Danny’s been found. 😎

So Danny gets introduced via the Green Guys magic translating ring, finds out they think he’s an alien, thinks he’s still in his world, where the Anti-Ecto Acts are a thing, and goes with it. They introduce him to the younger hero’s his age, and once he’s better they set him up in their base to live, since obviously he can’t stay on the watchtower or blend in. A few weeks in is enough for Danny to get confused by all the differences and look into it, and realize he’s in a new dimension. But he’s already knee-deep in this, so he just doesn’t ever mention it, and just refers to his ‘home planet’ as Amity.

Meanwhile, the alien kid, Danny, seems to be adjusting well, if a bit confused by the strangest things at times. The planet he mentioned as home was listed by the Lantern Corps as one destroyed by a black hole a few days before Danny’s pod showed up, so they avoid asking about the clearly painful and traumatizing experience. Superman, upon learning about the boys skill set, takes him under his wing.

TLDR-

Through a series of misunderstandings and coincidences Danny is premised to be an alien child by the Justice League and taken in as Superman’s apprentice/son. He does not correct this assumption, either ever or until he is outed by something/one else.

homie I am in love with this idea. Presumed Alien Danny makes me so happy.

I will like to add: The not-quite-english that Danny is speaking is akin to old English.

[numinous-scribe]

Siblings by trial and choice

So @noir-renard posted a prompt in Haunting Heroes a little while ago that's had me in a perpetual choke hold ever since.

When the Portal ZAPS Danny, he doesn't just get turned into a half ghost; he gets catapulted halfway across the galaxy. So now he's stuck on an alien ship, trying to deal with new powers, and desperately searching for a way home.

And my immediate thought was "How can I make this about Starfire?", from which everything spiraled.

[Click the pictures for better quality!]

Having assumed that the portal wasn't even supposed to be functional, Danny had absolutely no basis for anything that was happening to him. Not his new look or powers, not for wherever he was, and certainly not for the predicament of where he landed-- A ship he would later come to know as belonging to the slavers known as the Gordanians.

For all Danny knew, he certainly wasn't human anymore, and he might not have even been in the same dimension either; while Earth had been seeing more and more interactions with aliens, he'd never seen any quiet like these, and his parents had said that the portal was designed to view a whole other world.

And that was terrifying! He was Danny Fenton, just fourteen, and so far out of his depth it wasn't even funny. If it weren't for Koriand'r then Danny didn't know how he would have kept it all together.

As it were, Kor'i had already been enslaved for four years by this point. She knew what it was like to suddenly be cut off from everything she'd ever known, and the torment that was awaiting this strange boy that had appeared in a flash of green light. So even though she had nothing to give, Kor'i stuck by Danny's side.

Together, for the next two years, they fed each other hope.

Naturally, returning to Earth was a big ordeal for Danny, and by proxy for Kor'i as well. Over the two years they spent enduring harsh labor and torture from both their Gordanian captors and the Psions, Danny had confided in all sorts of stories about his home world and vice versa Kor'i about Tamaran. After confirming that he hadn't been transported to another reality, and that this was his Earth, Danny had been so excited to return home and to introduce Kor'i to his friends and family.

But while Earth was still the same, home... was not.

His parents were in jail; not only for their unethical and code violating lab, but because they were so neglectful to the point that minors were able to get into the lab unsupervised and one of them— Danny —was able to access their faulty machine and, presumably, died.

Jazz got picked up by the state, but quickly managed to get herself emancipated and now lived in some other state attending college.

The Manson's moved. Sam was a wreck and not coping well at all; her parents were considering having her committed to an institution for a bit to help her last anyone had heard.

The Foley's couldn't afford to move, so Tucker had to carry on with life as well as he could. He's quiet now, not as verbose and shameless as before, more of a hermit than anything.

And since he's been presumed dead, and can't figure out how to disprove that, honestly, Danny doesn't know how to pick back up where he left off. He can't. Because everything, including him, has changed as well.

But, like she's always done since the moment they met, Kor'i was there for him. And now they have a new family in the Teen Titans as well.

Bonus:

Close ups of Phantom and Starfire. Danny's suit design is a mixture of some of his original concept art and @the-stove-is-on-fire's designs :)

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXV)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Tim pulls a fast one on Batman for their mutual benefit. Everybody giggles. Danny goggles.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

(Additional TW: I think this counts as a panic attack ngl)

On the one hand. The room Danny’s in has a killer view of the earth from the moon.

The wall is basically just one big window. Danny is also apparently permitted to mash his face into the glass and ogle the Earth from Space for as long as he wants until the stinky dad, whoever he is, finally emerges from the depths of the building.

Diana’s the only one beside him today. She looks nice—nicer than usual, in her armor and bright clothing rather than soft scrubs and hair net. She can push his chair without getting tired—she could probably fly and carry him too, if she had to, so. Danny’s maybe counting on her liking him if this stinky dad tries to be mean.

So. Diana (nice lady) and Danny (half-dead ghost boy) are quietly seated in a dim, peaceful board room, absorbing the early morning (?) space radiation when the door hisses open across the room.

In the doorway is a long, dark, shadow of a man.

…And the green guy!!

Okay, if the stinky dad man brought a friend to this meeting the same way Diana’s meant to supervise him, Danny feels like he’s been lawyered up for the sake of some kind of court trial. This is not fair. Danny wasn’t able to review his case with his legal representation before this.

Well. Danny fumes. Whatever. His lawyer is Diana, the most powerful living being he’s seen ever in his life, and she can totally kick the green guy’s ass. Hell, Danny could probably kick the green guy’s ass.

...You know. If he wasn’t. Sick.

The stinky dad guy looks a lot like the blob his kid drew him as. That’s kind of neat—his suit is all black with little to no variation, which sort of just washes out the colors Danny might have been able to see if his eyes were still good. He’s very quiet, which is nice, and he’s very not-trying-to-read-Danny’s-mind, which is even better.

The two sit. Danny’s already in a wheelchair, so he just lets Diana wheel him to the table. The lady sits beside him in the spinny office chair.

Hello, the green guy opens with, already toying with the edges of Danny’s aura.

Danny sends back an abundance of ass-kicking emotions.

…Alright then, the green man capitulates, the barest hint of bemusement quickly stifled.

Good. Danny is mean. He’s awake enough to be mad about other people touching his aura from any end of his personal bubble.

But then the green guy…says stuff to the dad guy? And it’s very? Quiet?

Explanations, the green guy says. The image of a sign language translator at a baseball game floats over to him, and—

…Oh. He’s translating. For Danny.

That’s…nice? Nicer than Danny expected, honestly? Most of the time, people are perfectly happy to misinterpret him. It was kind of the way of the world at this point. Getting blamed for stuff, getting accused of stuff…

Man. If they turn out to be indoctrinating him for secret war purposes, at least they’re going all in. Danny might actually. You know. Like it here. A little.

He squirms in his chair, and tries not to look at anyone in particular. Diana—the lady who’s been nice to him—makes as if to straighten his hair for him, and remembers at the last second that he doesn’t like to be touched.

And sure. Danny doesn’t want to be touched. By bad guys.

…But Diana’s been really nice to him, so. Maybe. He scratches at the back of his neck, and ducks his head down—and remembers to use his words. “Yes,” he consents verbally. He can’t make eye contact. But he can…let her. Brush his hair back. A little.

Diana asks something long and complicated—and the green guy presses an image of Wonder Woman asking permission, being kind, being gentle­—up against the edges of Danny’s awareness.

Danny nods at the floor instead of at the lady. It’s fine. She’s fine. It’s fine.

And her fingers carefully brush through the front end of his fringe, and Danny. Danny is so normal about it. He doesn’t even cry or anything. Not even in front of his friend’s stinky dad.

And she doesn’t do it like Mom did it. And she doesn’t ruffle his hair like Dad did.

But it’s. Nice. And she doesn’t pull.

…And she doesn’t hit.

Danny eventually leans back into his wheelchair. It’s a little bit embarrassing to be halfway in and halfway out, but. Whatever. The scary-looking-dad with the earsies on his helmet has his own teenager. He should understand what it feels like to get emotionally weird with your teen in a public place. If he doesn’t, well...he wouldn’t be a great dad, then, and his opinion would suck anyway.

Based on what Danny knows about the masked kid, Danny isn’t sure the guy would tolerate a bad dad. The teen seems kinda unhinged.

The man says something, and the green guy presses a number of translated feelings against Danny’s awareness: Greetings. Questions about Danny’s wellbeing. Curiosity, but not demanding.

“…Hello,” Danny says back, and. Waves.

The man waves back. He’s got little claws on his gloves.

…Like a cat? Is it to go with his ears? Danny wonders about the possibilities of the guy being cat themed. It’s possible, presumably.

So…they want to know how Danny’s doing? Danny shrugs, and he glances at Diana, since, you know, she could probably fill them in? She does speak their language. And she’s been here the whole time.

The lady leans in close to him, black hair falling out from behind her ear. “What do you want to say?” she whispers into her ear, hand covering her mouth from their watchers.

Uh. It’s up to…Danny?? Somehow??

Danny winces. “…Good?” he tries, unsure if the word he uses means okay or fine or well. “…Not…hungry?”

“Very good,” Diana agrees, a little louder. She looks proud. Being not hungry must mean a lot to her, then. It means a lot to Danny too—he can remember the sensation of his stomach rubbing against itself, friction pulling raw at his insides as acid ate at him.

It was. Bad.

It was bad.

Danny’s glad he’s not there anymore. Anyway, there’s a guy in the room who reads minds, and Danny doesn’t really want to share that memory with anyone ever; especially someone who could turn it back on him.

The stinky dad says something else, but he uses words too thick and long for Danny to understand. The green guy translates, pure conceptual recall brushing against Danny’s outer aura—Needs? Wants?

…Danny frowns.

Danny looks at Diana, who looks back at him. Wants, needs…? What?

“Do you need aniþing?” Diana whispers to him, which. You know. Mostly makes sense.

Does Danny…need anything? He has medical care, he has food, he has water, he has toys and brain teasers, even…he has people to hang out with, he has people who stretch his legs with him so that he can go back to normal…heck, he doesn’t even have to clean his own waste bag. There’s people who do that for him.

Like. What more could Danny ask for?

Danny shrugs. He just wants to heal up and run away. Maybe…maybe, if Diana is real and not just pretending to like him to keep an eye on him, she’d let him visit her later or something. Danny would do what Dani doe—did. What Dani…did. And he’d just go a bunch of places and come back when he wants to.

But. No. There’s nothing he really needs right now.

The pointy-eared guy and the green guy share a look and a couple quiet words. Danny flares his annoyance into the silence, but all he gets is a silent Apology/Apology, which isn’t answers.

Ugh. Danny leans over the arm of his wheelchair. This is kind of super boring; it’s more boring than it is frustrating, even.

The stinky dad guy says something else, and Danny feels the push and pull of something double ended tugging on the outer edge of his aura. Additional/information, giving/take?

Danny really wishes he’d brought a fidget toy or something. His nerves are ramping up but all he can do is contort his fingers together, feeling the strain in and the joints click as he pushes them together and twists them apart. They want…to ask him questions? No, they’re already asking him questions. They want Danny to…give them questions??

…Danny doesn’t really want to. Still, he probably…should.

“The…space station,” he says, using the wrong word for their big space building but not knowing the better one; “Is this…where…why is it?”

The black-caped dad grumbles something vaguely approving. A tablet pops out of the table—spooky—and the guy starts drawing on it, explaining all the way. The green guy simplifies more of the verbally complicated concepts for Danny as they go.

Anyway. So they’re in space because it’s their…job? Danny thinks? They do…fighting stuff. Which Danny knew. Because he’d seen them on the news.

But it looks like they do a lot of things—they clean up after storms, and chase regular bad guys and super-bad-guys instead of just big ones. And they stop bad aliens from hurting people on Earth.

The green guy shifts from a green-looking, pointy-headed, red-eyed form to a warm, brown, human skin tone. And even. Like. Human clothing.

Danny stares.

…And the guy immediately takes back his natural form, his body physically shifting and morphing, which, fair, but holy crap. He’s living, on Earth. He passes as normal, on Earth. No one snitches on him. No one’s selling him to the government for parts. No one’s trapping him in a cage and not feeding him.

This guy works here, and everyone lets him.

Danny shifts in his chair. He…he wants that. He wants that. He wants to pass as human and not have to worry about…about anyone getting rid of him. He wants to go back to school. He wants to hide, and never ever not ever be found by anyone or anything when he does.

“I want that,” Danny says. There’s no inflection. He feels dead. He is dead, but usually he doesn’t feel it. “What do I do for…that.”

Help/Searching/Finding? the green—alien—questions, but there’s nothing for Danny to find. He knows exactly where everyone he loves is—and unless they’re already fully formed in the ghost zone…

…Well. Danny has forever to wait and see if he’ll see his friends and sister again. Maybe he’ll find them again one day, in a world purely green and glowing.

He shakes his head.

The next question comes…softer. Gentler. The mental push feels more like a breeze than a gale. Friends…Home/family?

The question comes tinged with all sorts of sensations that Danny’s suppressed—warmth, security, happiness, oxytocin, fondness, pride and being the source thereof, warmth and love, love, love—

Danny’s sweating. He can’t stop. His hands are shaking faster than usual—he kicks the brakes off his chair with the heels of his palms, and jerks the wheels back, pulling away from the desk—

He’s halfway across the room before he hears the noise. It’s just. Noise. It’s Diana, carefully shushing the loud heartbeat churning in his ears, hands on his hand, trying not to cage him but trying to keep skin on skin contact. Her hand is on the back of his hand, and on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Diana whispers. Danny’s shaking. His whole body is shaking. “Shhh, sh sh sh. It’s alright, it’s okay.”

It’s not it’s not it’snoit’snotit’sNOT. His sister is dead. His friends are dead. His parents sold his captors the equipment to catch him and they didn’t care if he got hurt doing it and now they’re DEAD. They tore open his hometown down the middle just to catch him, they stole him—they took his dead parent’s things as tools to hurt him—they HURT HIM and there isn’t—he can’t—he can’t—

Something is holding him down, and Danny thrashes. He has arms, but they’re injured—he has legs but he needs a tail and he—and—

He cries into Diana’s arms, sobbing and wailing. It’s a miracle that the building stays together. She holds him tighter, and he cries even harder into her soft under-layers.

He wants to run away. He needs to run away. Someone is holding him, and he can’t even flicker through her the way he wants to; his core is already too strained just from talking.

Danny’s sick. He’s dying. He’s—

“Take a breath,” Diana whispers, calm and sure. She models it for him. Danny gasps in air. “Good. Lete it out slow. As bobbels in a straw.”

He tries to copy her he does and she’ll be so angry if he can’t do it right on the first try but she lets him try, over and over again, until Danny’s able to stop hiccupping and leaking tears and ectoplasm all over her and realize that she’s holding him like a baby. Like. Actually cradling him against his body armor.

…You know what. He’s too tired to even be embarrassed. Screw that. Danny leans all the way over her and goes completely limp. Someone else can deal with his him for a little bit.

She does. Diana just…holds him.

It’s nice. Mom and Dad used to do that for him, when Danny was still���more human, he supposed. More than he is right now.

Something else touches his hand. Danny looks blearily downwards.

The teenager’s dad gets to his knees and takes Danny’s hand—and he doesn’t need the translation to understand.

“I’m sorry,” the man says, over and over again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Danny blinks sleepily. What does his friend’s stinky dad have to be sorry for? He didn’t even do anything to Danny in the first place.

Danny won’t remember, afterwards, being wheeled back to his room for a nap. They must have wheeled him back, though, because the alternative is that Diana tucked him into bed like a baby, and that’s just kind of embarrassing to even think about for too long.

[evilminji]

I came across it in a fic and now it is DRIVING ME INSANE...

Marriage Hunts.

Mmmm, yes, Sexy™. Prove to me you are a Worthy Spouse! Fuckin FIGHT ME! Let's GO! You wanna put a ring on it? You better EARN that right! *weapons n explosion noises*

BUT!!!

Okay. We have successfully DONE it. We caught the sexy, sexy Spouse Of Our Dreams. Much Hotness. Tasteful, of screen, and fully consenting sexy times were had. #NICE.

......whaaaaaat happens NEXT?

What, in a word, is Step Two? ESPECIALLY if? This is "suprise! You've found yourself in a Sexy Hunt For Marriage For PLOT REASONS!" which means that ONE of these two cultures? Sure as SHIT does not practice this custom?

You are Alien Married.

They are fully expecting to either take YOU home with THEM or YOU to take THEM home with YOU, presumably. You have marital responsibilities as defined by TWO different cultures, only one of which you know. This person? Is ALSO a stranger to you!

Basically just met.

High intensity one night stand that's now Forever.

No one ever follows UP. They have fics trying to get OUT of it. Or the boning itself. But not the "....so, like, do I need to help you pack, oooor?" And the culture shock. The dumped in a new society that may not even RECOGNIZE the validity of your marriage. May consider both IT and YOU, barbaric.

And??? For ADDED spice?? Just to make the two cultures REALLY different?

I'ma say Ghosts do it. Not all of um. It's regional. An opt in sort thing. Since fighting is so ingrained into socializing. What BETTER way? To speed run the dating process? Then to Hunt Each Other For SPORT! VIOLENTLY!!! So romantic~♡

And Danny? Keeps failing in the romance department. Too many secrets, ya know?

Figures... Fuck It. Not like anyone can BEAT him. Maybe he'll find someone he wants to date? Or maybe he WILL find that special someone! Who knows? He's lonely, man.

And who should arrive?

FUCKIN NINJAS.

Pick a bachelor with a Summoning Contract. They tried to call their buddies while trapped in an old, long forgotten, HALF ROTTED Uzumaki Seal. It tore reality and yeet them sideways. Their Summons are frantic. THEY land just in time to hear the rules, the name of The Hunt, and see they are surrounded.

*opening horn blasts*

Begin!

Oh FUCK no! They are NOT staying trapped here! They fight! They WIN!

They...accidentally pin a really, REALLY strong and hot Spirit Warrior to the ground. Oh shit. They have a husband.

......but I mean... worse things have happened to them.

But? BRINGING SAID HUSBAND BACK? That. THAT I want to see. They left for a god damned MILK RUN of a boring ass punishment mission. Come back with a possibly half alive, spirit prince husband? The husband glows.

*jazz hands* s-suuuuprise?

@hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @hypewinter @babbling-babull @the-witchhunter @lolottes

[luckyfox3000]

DC x DP PROMT #17

Hola my friendly weirdos! New Promt!

"Hey old man!"

"Jason? When did you get here?"

"Forget that, ya' know that weird mirror near the attic with all the weird carvings and stuff I asked you about a few years back?"

"Hn."

"Well, it's glowing. Green. Lazarus green."

"...Get Dick and Tim. Dont touch it until we figure out what it is."

"Sure thin'. DICKWING, TIMBO!!! GET YOUR ASSES DOWN!"

"...*sigh*"

"Hey! What's up?"

"Mirror. Lazarus green."

"...The one near the attic?"

"Hn."

"Wait, so the mirror has weird carvings and started glowing Lazarus green? Huh. I'll scan it and run some tests."

"...I'll ask Damian if he knows what it is."

___________________________________________

Danny had been stuck in here a long time. Or well, what he presumed was a long time.

He couldn't really tell, with the whole, being trapped in an infinite amount of darkness that not even his natural glow could light up.

He wondered how Sam and tucker were.

How Jazz and Ellie were.

If they were even alive after all that.

But, well, benefit to being stuffed in someplace were not even time and space could touch was he could imagine his loved ones all safe and happy until he was convinced it was true.

...

T-that

That was light.

How?

Why now.

Are they back?

He's-

What-

Light, so much light.

"Woah what the hell?"

Turn it off.

"Whaddya see Dickhead?"

Turn it off!

"The-theres boy! Oh my god, someone get a stretcher. He, he looks... alien?"

TURN IT OFF!!!

"On it."

TURN IT OFF TURN IT OFF TURN IT OFF TUEN IT OFF TURN IT OFF-

"Hey, hey, calm down kiddo. Your safe, I got you. It's okay."

"Don't touch me. Let go."

"Woah, easy, easy, it's okay. No one's is gonna hurt you, it's okay!"

"I. Said. Don't. TOUCH ME!!!"

Feel free to use or add on!

(Using purple again since I dont wnat it to mix up with Danny's words.)

P.s, for those who cant tell what color is who: Red=Jason, Black=Bruce, Blue=Dick, Orange=Tim, and Green=Danny.

[stars-obsession-pit]

A common trope in Danny Phantom fanfics is ghosts using combat as a greeting/bonding activity/etc

And I think that’s absolutely rad - I love the idea of making ghosts more alien. But I think there’s a sorta necessary corollary of rules for social fighting that aren’t explored as much. (Some fics definitely have gotten into that stuff but I haven’t seen it and I still think it’d be neat to discuss)

Because like, people will fight their enemies too. You don’t want your enemies to think you’re being friendly—and, conversely, you want your friends to know you are—so there has to be some sort of convention for how to distinguish the two types.

But what would those rules be?

–––

Obviously holding back somewhat would be a common part, but that can’t be the only thing since it’s too ambiguous. There are reasons one might hold back against an enemy, and sometimes not holding back in a friendly bout might make sense (e.g. if you’re fighting someone stronger and don’t need to or if you’re trying to push your limits together).

It could be a body language thing, but the divergence in ghost forms might make it hard to tell at times which might interfere. It’s definitely not completely off the table, but it’s a possible complication. Whatever the system is, it should be hard to misinterpret. You really don’t want to risk ruining your friendships.

Or for another potentially ambiguous thing, declaring your presence and theme/“grievances” could be a reasonable expectation for friendly fights, but it could also occur before a real fight, so that alone can’t be the indication of non-hostility unless their culture has strong rules against doing that in real battles. How they declare that could potentially work as a rule though (like with different characteristic wordings or etc).

Or it could just be an empathy thing, but that feels like a bit of a cop-out…

Aside from that sorta introductory/declaratory step, there presumably also have to be rules for turning down a proposed fight (is it considered rude to turn it down? Is there specific wording etiquette? Alternatively, is asking for a fight ever considered rude? Is rescheduling different? etc), implied restrictions on conduct allowed in the fight (obviously you’re not trying to kill each other, but how much “fighting dirty” is okay? Is endangering their obsession off limits? etc), how to determine the end of a fight (can you tap out? Is there some set of “pinning” rules to determine an end? etc), and so on.

And there’s likely also different types of fights for different relationships. Like one would play-fight a kid differently than they fight their peers, acquaintances would tussle differently than close friends or family, and so on.

Plus, how are these rules taught to new ghosts?

Are they somehow beamed into the head of newly formed ghosts? If so, what set those rules up (some sort of nebulous Death figure, the ghost king, by vote of the Ancients, etc)? Have they ever changed? If so, are there any old ghosts who haven’t changed with the times?

If ghosts don’t innately know it, how is it taught? Is there public education? Or do ghosts have a sort of parent/mentor system for new arrivals? Or are they expected to just pick it up by osmosis - but then, how do they keep the rules consistent? Are they consistent? Are there competing systems? Are there guidelines for what to do if you find someone who doesn’t know?

[quadrantadvisor]

Danny Phantom Crossover Angst Week: Prompt - GIW Experimentation

Fandom: Marvel "Team Red"

Words: 2,550

Read on AO3

The new government offices in the Kitchen were suspicious, simply by virtue how un-suspicious they were. Matt, Foggy, and Karen had poured over their documentation, and found it to be squeaky clean and overly banal. Not that it mattered, really, when Matt was going to stake out their building regardless. Newcomers on his turf had to prove themselves.

Matt didn’t like what he heard.

It may, in fact, be time to call in the cavalry. No matter how deeply, desperately, Matt did not want to do that.

-

“You hear that, Spidey?” Wade Wilson crooned. “Ol’ Hornhead needs our help.”

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Spiderman said mirthfully, shaking his head.

They’d been like this for several minutes. Matt was cataloging and systematically shuffling through his life choices, trying to decide which one in particular led him to this moment (so that if he ever had the opportunity to time travel, he could prevent this.)

“Listen,” he told them. “I called you because I have reason to believe this situation is urgent, but my source has been unable to retrieve certain necessary information.”

“Like what?” Spiderman asked before Deadpool could get a word in edgewise.

“Like the dimensions of the building. I know that they don’t match the official schematics, but not what they actually are.”

“That seems very unlikely,” Wade cut in. “I thought you had like, a psychic connection to every part of your kitchen. How does anyone build something without you knowing about it?”

“I’m not psychic,” Matt deadpanned. Who needed a sixth sense? Matt did just fine with the ones he had. “But the answer is, very carefully.”

“Sure, sure,” Spiderman said. “And what’s the actual emergency?”

“They’re holding someone against their will,” Matt told him, glad to cut to the chase. “I have reason to believe that this person is in a great deal of danger, and has been tortured and experimented on for a significant amount of time.”

“The US government is doing this?” Spiderman asked, surprised. “After how many human rights scandals we’ve had in the past few years? Are they stupid?”

“Yes,” Matt answered immediately. “But there seems to be some question of this person’s level of sentience. My source said the attitude of the agents was, ‘Don’t worry if it’s screaming, that means it’s working.’”

The cold slide of a katana being drawn made Matt realize that he should’ve been paying more attention to Deadpool, who had become strangely quiet.

“DP, you good?” Spiderman asked, because he was naive enough to ask questions he already knew the answer to. Matt had gotten caught up in his own urgency, and completely forgotten to take Wade’s history into account. He’d stumbled into a thorny web of traumas, and had no one to blame but himself.

“Doing great, Spidey!” Deadpool said with a cold cheer, and Matt fought the urge to shiver. “Feeling very ready to teach some remedial lessons on human/alien/magical and/or mechanical construct rights! C’mon, team, time’s a-wasting!” And he was off.

Spiderman turned towards Matt and paused, presumably trying to share some sort of look (which wouldn’t have worked regardless, did he forget he wore a full face mask?) Then he tensed to leap, and Matt followed suit, the two of them determined to clean up whatever mess Deadpool made.

-

Deadpool had been made emphatically aware that, if he killed on their watch, neither Spiderman nor Daredevil would ever work with him again. Matt guessed that that promise was the only thing keeping him from further brutality. The stench of blood grew quickly cloying.

“HEY!” Spiderman shouted on his left.

“What?” Deadpool asked in front of him. “It’s not like he needs both hands.”

Spiderman’s webbing thwip-ed out, staunching the wound. “You guys picked a really bad day to wear white,” he said to the swearing agent.

“Lay off the suits, freak!” another one said, aiming his strange weapon at Matt’s friend. Matt quickly disarmed him.

Their suits were entirely white? No wonder they smelled so strongly of starch and bleach. Another point towards government stupidity.

The three of them made their way deeper into the facility, and white suits were replaced with white lab coats, though the scientists still carried the little noisy pistols, powered by something Matt couldn’t identify by smell. Whatever kind of energy it was, it left strong taste on his tongue, like citrus and metal and sparking electricity.

Then, finally, they found what they were looking for.

As soon as he opened the door, Deadpool’s tone changed, from frightening mania to a solemn sort of despair. “Fuck,” he said under his breath.

Matt was in an unfamiliar building, having to feel his way through as he went. He’d had to navigate combat situations while ignoring a great many assaults upon his senses, from loud alarms to overwhelming scents to a completely unfamiliar power source that made his skin tingle. But the inside of that room was worse. Matt resisted the urge to plug his nose against the air saturated with bleach, old blood, and rotten… whatever it was.

Spiderman, seeing into the room, gasped, then composed himself, following Deadpool inside.

“Hey, kid,” Deadpool said softly. This was why, despite all the instincts telling him otherwise, Matt trusted Wade. Wade cared about vulnerable people, in a way that was both obvious and experienced. He wore his care on his sleeve. Matt couldn’t help but admire it, and felt a kinship he couldn’t quite deny. “We’re gonna get you out of here, okay?”

A mumble responded, drawing Matt’s attention, and he drew short. There was certainly a structure in the center of the room, and upon that structure (gurney?) was…

It was unlike anything Matt had ever experienced. It was in the shape of a person, yes, but it was almost like the absence of a person. Cold emanated from the space, but air seemed to pass right through it. Sound was drawn in by the shape, muffled. Was there really someone there? Matt’s skin prickled. (Matt still wasn’t psychic. But something about it didn’t feel right. Like it wanted him to be afraid.)

The figure wheezed.

“He can’t be older than sixteen,” Spiderman whispered.

“Hey, kid, hey, they really did a number on you, huh? Can you hear me?”

This time, there was no response, just the same shallow, painful breaths.

“Alright, up we go then,” Deadpool said, reaching for the figure. Matt almost called out, almost told him not to touch it. He half expected Deadpool’s hands to fall right through. But contact was made, and Deadpool hefted what apparently looked like a young teenaged boy into his arms.

“Alright besties, you clear the way and I’ll cart the kid out of here,” Deadpool said, tone comically sweet.

Again, Matt wanted to protest. Now that they had the captive, the rescue seemed less urgent. He wanted to know just what was going on here, what the subject was, why he was being studied. He had a bad feeling, was all.

Matt held his tounge. Deadpool and Spiderman’s hearts were both racing, and they radiated fear and concern. Something was leaking from the boy, something that smelled like the power source of the agent’s weapons but somehow more organic. Matt’s bad feeling didn’t matter, not until something bad actually happened. He could come back later and collect the information he needed, especially since he’d be able to use actual stealth to do it (thank you, Wade, for barging in.)

They went out the same way they’d come in, mowing through agents much less brutally now that Deadpool’s hands were fully. The number of people working in this building was frankly ridiculous.

The agents were not shy about targeting Deadpool, seeming unconcerned about any harm that may come to their captive. As they passed, they shouted at them, telling them to “Drop the subject!” or “Give up the Ghost Kid!”

(Ghost Kid? No, he couldn’t be a ghost. That was ridiculous. That wasn’t what ghosts were like, it couldn’t be.)

(Oh sweet Mother Mary.)

Spiderman started webbing the agents’ mouths shut.

When they had nearly reached their goal of escape, the figure began to murmur and shift.

“Hey kiddo, you with us?” Deadpool asked.

“Who’re you?” was the slurred response.

“Just your friendly neighborhood mercenary!” Deadpool chirped. “And I’m getting you out of here.”

“We’re leaving?” croaked the boy.

“Yep! Me’n my buddies,” Deadpool moved his head, gesturing to Matt and Spiderman, “we’ll keep you safe. These creeps aren’t gonna touch you, never again.”

The being moved suddenly, lurching up in Wade’s grasp, maybe meeting his eyes or grabbing his arm?

“The research,” he gasped, “the containment devices, the weapons, you have to destroy them! What they’re trying to do, it’s-” he broke off, coughing weakly.

“Kid?” Deadpool asked.

“An entire dimension,” the boy answered weakly. “They want to destroy an entire dimension.”

The alarms were still blaring. The number of agents coming in from different parts of the building hadn’t slowed. As bad as that sounded, and as much as Matt wanted to get their research away from them and into more capable and ethical hands (Karen), they didn’t have time if they didn’t want to take huge risks.

“We’re leaving,” Matt said, the full gravel of the devil in his voice. “We’ll stop them, but not tonight.”

“Yeah buddy, don’t worry, we’re gonna take care of it,” Spiderman assured him.

“You don’t understand,” the boy said, distraught.

Their group had reached the first floor. Matt was bruised and exhausted, but none of the combatants were experts in hand to hand. They were going to make it out of this, mission complete, none the worse for wear. It could’ve gone a lot worse.

“I’ll do it myself.”

The figure in Deadpool’s arms suddenly, inexplicably, dropped. No struggle, no loosening of Deadpool’s grip. It was like he fell straight through them.

Despite his weakness, the boy slipped away when Wade reached out for him. Then he, if Matt’s senses weren’t playing tricks on him, started floating.

“Back up,” he said, “and cover your ears.”

Matt didn’t like to muffle his senses, but he wasn’t an idiot. When a being like that said to protect your hearing, you did it. He pressed his palms tight to his ears and moved away.

It wasn’t enough.

What came from the thing could barely be called a sound. The sensation was almost physical, air distorting worse than the concussive blast of an explosion. He directed it down, down, through every level of the building, and the floor pushed back in waves as it fought against its own destruction. Inevitably, it failed, and Matt hugged desperately against the wall, hoping he wouldn’t lose the very ground beneath his feet. He sincerely doubted any electronics could survive the onslaught, meaning that whatever records and weapons were being stored here would be just as gone as the boy had wanted.

Matt didn’t know how long the attack lasted, maybe just seconds, regardless of how long it felt in his pain. The ringing in his head didn’t stop with the onslaught, and he removed his hands cautiously, hoping he wasn’t bleeding. Matt rose from his crouch, and tried to figure out what to do next. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t hear anything over the ringing, could only stand there and wonder if a single step would send him plunging to his death, if the ringing was just too loud or if his hearing was gone for good (he could do it, he could, but please, God, he didn’t want to, didn’t want to adjust, to lose such a huge part of the world around him, please, not again.)

He startled when someone touched his arm. “-hear me?” they asked, and Matt realized it was Spiderman, because he could feel his heartbeat through his fingers, knew the resonance of his voice in his chest, and Matt resisted the urge to cling to him for some sense of normalcy, because yes, even though he couldn’t hear him, he knew the vibrations of his body and could still interpret them.

“There you are,” Spiderman said. “Just mouth stuff at me, my ears are shot after that. You good?”

Matt grunted, and was disturbed by the lack of feedback within his own skull. “Can’t hear a thing,” he reluctantly admitted, doing his best to turn towards where he figured Spiderman’s eyeline was. He paused, uncomfortable, but added, “A bit dizzy, too.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Spiderman immediately replied, getting a better grip on Matt’s arm and starting to pull him somewhere. It wasn’t easy guidance, like Foggy would offer, it was a firm lead, something Spiderman would use to pull civilians away from danger. Matt suffered the indignity, seeing as he could barely stand straight and had almost no idea where the holes in the floor were. “Man, that kid scared the shit out of me. I’m so glad I managed to catch him.”

Catch him? That made sense, maybe, if whatever power that had kept him suspended gave out after that display. Spiderman didn’t have the boy now, though, so he must’ve handed him off to Deadpool, or maybe he’d used his webs.

The air changed, and Matt figured they’d made it outside. He expected Spiderman to let go of him, and felt both relieved and embarrassed when he didn’t.

Air moved, the ground vibrated, and Matt could tell someone approached them. Spiderman didn’t react negatively, so likely it was Deadpool. The mercenary stood in front of them, speaking, but the breeze whisked the vibrations away and Matt couldn’t make out his voice.

“Don’t ask me,” Spiderman replied. “Hey, you paying attention Double D? What the heck do we do with an incredibly powerful, partially human, transforming kid who may also be bleeding out?”

Transforming? Bleeding out? Matt had thought the blood smell was just Deadpool. Without thinking, he reached forward, seeking more information. After a moment, he made contact, and felt relieved at the familiar heart and breaths. Thus oriented, he moved his hand down to the figure in Wade’s arms.

It was a normal human boy. No uncanny not-there-ness, no hum of energy and power, just a kid with blood pumping through his veins and dripping from a poorly treated would along his torso.

“I don’t know,” Matt said. “Hospital?”

“I am not just dropping him off at a hospital,” Deadpool said. “If that’s your plan, I’ll just take him back to my place and-”

“Hey, Daredevil, didn’t you say you couldn’t hear?” Spiderman interrupted.

Matt nodded absentmindedly. “Not a thing.”

“We’re wearing full face masks,” Spiderman pointed out. “How do you know what we’re saying?”

Deadpool gasped dramatically. “He IS psychic!”

Matt sighed heavily, wishing he could drop his head into his hands, but that would necessitate letting go of his friends. “Claire is going to hate me for this,” he lamented.

“Who’s Claire?” Spiderman asked.

“He didn’t deny it!” Deadpool crowed.

“I’ll explain on the way,” Matt said, ignoring the mercenary. “You’re going to have to guide me though, I’m practically useless right now.”

“Sure thing,” Spiderman said, not needing more than that, and Matt knew that there was a reason he liked him.

Their group, much worse for wear and plus a new member, headed off again into the night.

[mynewhyperfixation]

T.I.P. - Pt.7 (End Chap 2)

Batman stayed behind when he was taken up to the Watchtower, presumably to observe what assets (Caged ghosts. Hopefully none.) remained and report Danny’s capture. The DEO would want him turned over quickly and the GIW would have him soon after. It seemed almost unnecessary to take him up when they’d need to bring him right back down. That wasn’t any of his business though, he was keeping his mouth shut. Better not to endanger his team than to air his curiosities.

Instead of a cell they put him in a room. It had a nice window with a beautiful view of the stars. Weird. They were trying to talk to him, to get him to talk to them. They offered him water as well. He wasn’t listening, and though he was thirsty he didn’t drink any. You don’t take anything from cops, they always try and get something out of you in turn. No, he drank in space instead. It wouldn’t be long before it didn’t matter anyway. If they could force his transformation that meant they might manage to kill him permanently this time. Space would have to be enough.

Martian Manhunter, an alien (cool) and mind reader (not cool) guarded his room. Most likely they hoped to glean something off of him despite his silence. Unfortunately his mental defenses required more effort as a human, but it seemed like they hadn’t realized what a gift his window was. The pain of the cuffs could be effective, but there was nothing like getting lost in space. He imagined it absorbing him completely so there was nothing left of him to take.

Masterpost

AN: This is my favorite part of chapter 2! Danny's perspective in this fic is very interesting to me. He's definitely more stoic here but that's because he feels like he has to be. Don't worry though! Things will get better. (Eventually.) Chapter 3 and any chapters after will just be on AO3. I have found the ideas for chapter 3+ but I'm also writing essays for course work and I can only stay up till 2am so many nights a week so I've gotta pace myself.

[batty-pham]

Daily DPxDC Fic Rec

Day 42- Nov 11

Alien Boys

By Zylev

Tags: Alien Danny Fenton, Presumed Alien Danny Fenton, Danny Fenton Meets the Justice League, Ghost King Danny Fenton, Amity Park Is Strange, Danny Fenton Has a Space Ghost Core, Danny Fenton Has Trust Issues, Clark Kent is Kon-El | Conner Kent's Parent, Clark Kent Tries to Be a Good Parent, Danielle "Dani" Phantom Needs a Hug, Powerful Danny Fenton, BAMF Danny Fenton, Dimension Travel, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Wordcount: 32,656

Summary: With Amity Park destroyed, Danny falls through a portal that sends him to another Earth. The Justice League assume he’s an alien and treat him as such—but Danny might be more of an alien than he would’ve thought.

Complete: no

[bookoftheironfist]

hihi!!!

what do you think of an asian danny (comics) ? i know we have pei (whom i adore) but how do you think danny as a character would change? (personally i feel like danny would feel less isolated in kun lun, maybe only dimensional differences, but would face more racism back in america. i think white danny is a better concept, to be torn in half between your nature(america) vs nurture(kun lun) yknow)

<3

Hihi! Thank you for asking!

A few key points, just to start off:

I am not Asian myself, therefore I feel like my opinion on this topic doesn't really matter. (I also don't work for Marvel, so my opinion really doesn't matter.)

At the end of the day, this conversation comes down to the desire for more and better Asian representation across the Marvel Universe, which is obviously something we should all want.

Okay, now, on to the in-universe, Danny-specific stuff:

I would be perfectly happy with an Asian Danny, and I understand the arguments for making that change. I don't personally feel like it's a necessary change in this case, but I do get it, and I do think that the introduction of the Iron Fist legacy was very important; back when he was the first and only person to have defeated Shou-Lao, it was certainly much more uncomfortable that he was an outsider. (I will also point out that the feeling of being pulled in two directions--America and K'un-Lun--is something that he would still experience if he were Asian. Probably even moreso due, as you mentioned, to anti-Asian racism and anti-immigrant sentiments in the US.)

For me, the question is more about whether Danny should be of K'un-Lun descent specifically. Just making him Asian wouldn't make him not an outsider there, and that was the main cause of his alienation as a child. The thing that baffled me about Lin Lie being chosen as the next Iron Fist to presumably "fix" the "problem" of Danny's non-native status was that Lin isn't from K'un-Lun either. He's just as much of an outworlder as Danny, and at least Danny grew up in the city and had family there. (And obviously, that's not even touching on the fact that we already had Pei, who was born K'un-Lun.)

Tucos: "You dare aspire to join the ranks of the immortals of K'un-Lun--!?!" Danny: "I dare nothing, Tucos--I merely am. If I am Iron Fist, it is because the gods--thru Yu-Ti--will it so...and if I become an immortal--it is because they will that as well!" Merrin: "Is that so, outworlder--? How pleasant to see an Earther mortal adopt our ways so...fervently." Iron Fist vol. 1 #2 by Chris Claremont, John Byrne, Michele W., F. Chiarmonte, and Joe Rosen

Kheng: "Stupid orphan couldn't stop a bunch of dogs from turning his mother into breakfast...how were you ever going to face an immortal?" Iron Fist: The Living Weapon #3 by Kaare Kyle Andrews and Joe Caramagna

Yang Yi: "The next Iron Fist should have been one of us. Any of us--even Mei Min. It should have been me." Lin: "I--I didn't call Shou-Lao to me on purpose." Yang Yi: "That's even worse! You stole something that belongs to K'un-Lun and you don't even know its worth. The last Iron Fist was an outsider. So was the one before him. Special enough that the dragon chose them...or callous enough to rip its heart out without respect." Iron Fist vol. 6 #2 by Alyssa Wong, Michael Yg, Sean Chen, Victor Olazaba, and Jay David Ramos

If Danny had been Asian but not from K'un-Lun, the bullying might have focused less on his appearance (he gets called "Snow Pea" and "Snowflake" in Living Weapon), but he still would have been an outsider, an Earther mortal freak, and his bullies would still have been angry that he became the Iron Fist instead of them. If Danny had been of K'un-Lun descent...honestly, I still think he would have struggled to fit in, since he wasn't raised in the culture. Wendell as we know him didn't teach Danny anything about K'un-Lun, and unless we considered the idea of changing Wendell's personality or past experiences, I can imagine that would still be the case if he had blood ties to the city. It would still have been something Wendell spent most of Danny's life trying to put behind him, and Danny would still have been arriving massively traumatized, and even with the knowledge that his ancestors had been from K'un-Lun, I'm not sure how much that would have fixed for him, or for his peers' perception of him. This is a dimension that is extremely difficult to access, and thus a very insular society. They don't get a lot of outworlders, regardless of their race or ancestry.

For the record, it would be easy to give Danny blood ties to K'un-Lun without changing a single thing about his backstory, due to the simple fact that we have no idea where Wendell came from. He was just some random orphan Orson stumbled upon in the Himalayas. It would be very easy for a writer to do a story arc in which Danny found out that his father (possibly even unbeknownst to Wendell) was born in K'un-Lun. Rather than retconning Danny's backstory to make him aware of this from the beginning, I feel like it would be a more interesting approach to have Danny discover a blood connection later on, in the present day. I am always a big fan of explorations of Danny's relationship to K'un-Lun, and this would certainly present new territory in that regard.

Ultimately, though, I agree with you in that I don't feel like this change is needed, or even that it would change much about Danny's character or journey (which I suppose could be an argument either for or against). He would still be that same guy caught between two worlds and not fully at home in either. My personal feeling is that I would rather see characters like Colleen Wing, Pei, Sparrow, Miranda...heck, even Steel Serpent...given more of a spotlight. As I mentioned at the top, what's most important is having strong Asian representation throughout the Marvel Universe, and there are a ton of fantastic, under-used Asian characters within the Iron Fist sphere who I hate to see buried under ongoing debates about this one guy's ethnicity, especially when those debates too often seem to contain incorrect information from people who haven't actually read many of the comics.

Again, thanks for the question! Obviously, this is a very layered and sensitive topic, and having lived through the heated conversations surrounding the Netflix show, it's something that is always on my mind.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Security Alert. Initiating Protocol: New Moon

by Umbrella_Drop After an attack by the GIW Danny has to leave his home in Amity Park with no guarantee if he could ever go back, or if there was anyone to go back to. Meanwhile the Justice League would very much like to know what an alien refuge so young was running from and how to help them. Also, how did they get here without a ship? And how did they know so much about Earth? But also not? What do you mean the food comes back to life!? What is happening- No, bad Bruce. Stop trying to adopt the possibly freshly orphaned child. Bad Batman, bad. Words: 2196, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Danny Phantom, Justice League - All Media Types, DCU, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Danny Fenton, Justice League (DCU), Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Diana (Wonder Woman), Victor Stone, Barry Allen, J'onn J'onzz, Batfamily Members (DCU) Relationships: Danny Fenton & Justice League (DCU), Batfamily Members (DCU) & Danny Fenton Additional Tags: Jason Todd is a Batfamily Member, Presumed Alien Danny Fenton, Misunderstandings, Good Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton, I know I'm just as surprised as you are, Danny Fenton Has a Space Ghost Core, Danny Fenton's Ghost Obsession is Protection, Angst, Crack, question mark??? if it is it's, Crack Treated Seriously, Basically the misunderstandings cause chaos and Danny revels in it, this is karma BITCHES, additional tags and characters to be added, No beta we die like Danny and hopefully no other Fentons but that is yet to be seen, Rated T for swearing and a lil violence but nothing too bad, overall we are just here for some good vibes and with only a sprinkle of angst, or at least that's the goal, Fluff, forgot that one via https://ift.tt/el10XJb

[martyrbat]

But, having just reread the stuff, some of it for the first time since the original publication, I'm mildly amazed at how cohesive it all is. It really does form a single, unified narrative—what today would be called a graphic novel. Does that mean that when we introduced Talia we knew that eventually her father would be presumed dead, and she and Batman would finally enjoy a walk into the sunset? No, certainly not. Rather, I'm sure, we understood the characters well enough to keep them from doing anything alien to them and, with that as a constant, the narrative grew organically, each incident suggesting others. The overall design was never imposed on the material; rather, it emerged gradually as we produced the individual episodes. We were guys sticking tiles up on a wall, just interested in covering the space, and after a while, Look at that! Darn if we didn't make a mosaic! This kind of process is denied to storytellers who create conventional plays, movies, novels-forms that demand structure with clearly defined beginnings, middles, and ends. It lets the writers and artists share, at least to some extent, in the audience's pleasure of anticipation, of being surprised by what happens next. It can be an absolute joy.

(full ID below cut)

[ID: an afterword by Danny O'Neil on the collective comic ‘Batman: Tales of The Demon’ from 1991. Text reads:

If you're reading these words after you've finished the stories collected in this volume, you may have noticed some things. For example, you may have observed that although the hero is often driven and desperate, he isn't quite as grim as today's Batman. He banters with the bad guys, he essays the occasional mild wisecrack, he is more openly compassionate. Nor is he quite so superhumanly competent; would the present Batman ever be flattened by Molly Post and her lousy skis? Not likely. You may wonder about some of the captions—the alliteration, the chatty little asides. (“Did you catch the key to the mystery, as did the Batman?” a typical one asks.) But then, you surely remind yourself, these tales first appeared almost two decades ago, at a point in Batman's 50-year history when a lot of the elements of his persona were still being defined, as he was evolving from the cheery, sun-drenched do-gooder of the 1950s and mid-1960s to the present Dark Knight. As for those captions...like Batman himself, comic book conventions and technique were changing; in particular, many young comics professionals were influenced by Marvel Comics' Stan Lee, whose writing teems with friendly comments to the reader. And almost nobody working in the medium would admit, under torture, to taking the work seriously. In a cutesy mood? a writer might ask himself. Then knock out a cutesy caption. It's only a comic book...

Okay, granting all that, you still have a question. You've given the stories titled “The Vengeance Vow” and “Where Strike the Assassins” your close attention and you want to know how the Batman found the Bronze Tiger in the hospital after the fight with the Sensei's thugs. Well, try this: it was simple detective work. He knew, from the amount of blood on the ground, that the Tiger was badly wounded and so would probably seek help at the nearest medical facility. The hospital was it.

Not satisfied? No problem. There are other possible answers. (He spotted the killers and tailed them, hoping they'd lead him to the Tiger? He was able to follow the trail of the blood itself? He questioned someone who saw where the Tiger went?] You might be able to think of something better than any of these. Me—I don't know if I had an explanation and forgot to include it, or if some months passed between the writing of the two stories and I didn't remember that the Batman's fortuitous arrival at the Tiger's bedside hadn't already been explained, or what. Maybe I would have fretted if I'd noticed the omission after the story was published—maybe I even did. I don't know. We weren't taking notes back then. We were just dashing from assignment to assignment, producing monthly entertainments and, frequently, having a pretty good time doing it. What we weren't doing was expecting that those entertainments would ever be collected in a single, rather portly book with an introduction by Sam Hamm and a postscript by the undersigned.

But, having just reread the stuff, some of it for the first time since the original publication, I'm mildly amazed at how cohesive it all is. It really does form a single, unified narrative—what today would be called a graphic novel. Does that mean that when we introduced Talia we knew that eventually her father would be presumed dead, and she and Batman would finally enjoy a walk into the sunset? No, certainly not. Rather, I'm sure, we understood the characters well enough to keep them from doing anything alien to them and, with that as a constant, the narrative grew organically, each incident suggesting others. The overall design was never imposed on the material; rather, it emerged gradually as we produced the individual episodes. We were guys sticking tiles up on a wall, just interested in covering the space, and after a while, Look at that! Darn if we didn't make a mosaic! This kind of process is denied to storytellers who create conventional plays, movies, novels-forms that demand structure with clearly defined beginnings, middles, and ends. It lets the writers and artists share, at least to some extent, in the audience's pleasure of anticipation, of being surprised by what happens next. It can be an absolute joy.

Of course, it does cause the occasional glitch, such as Batman arriving at a hospital without anyone, maybe including the writer (maybe especially the writer), knowing exactly how he got there.]

[idridian]

reverse unpopular opinion meme + your choice + 2001: a space odyssey (the movie)

my choice, huh? :) well, since we're already on the topic, i'll take this opportunity to say something nice about another one of stanley's films (the only other one i've seen), the shining. i've only seen it the one time, so my recollection is not the best, but i retained the important stuff lol

but first, 2001: a space odyssey:

ok fine, i like the cinematography. quote from when i first watched it: "the movie is symmetrical, i'll give it that." anyone who has seen me talk about grand budapest hotel knows that i like it when movies are symmetrical

the ways they fuck with gravity legitimately look very cool. i said "woah!!" out loud when the stewardess started walking up the wall during the blue danube sequence (admittedly because it was the first interesting thing that had happened at that point, but i was very dazzled by it)

the entire mission to jupiter segment slaps

dave best character <3 he is my blorbo <3

i love the scene where frank gets killed. granted, i love it for the wrong reasons, but that does not change the fact that i love it

the part where dave keeps seeing older versions of himself in the alien hotel room is confusing and i was very ???? about it on first watch, but i IMMENSELY enjoy the Old Man Squint he does when he drops the glass and subsequently sees the final version of himself on the bed

this is all in the wrong order now but i also find the man ape costumes very impressive, and all the actors in that sequence are really going for it, which is fun to watch

a lot of the performances are really nice actually. they're not anything groundbreaking, but i get the impression that basically everyone you see onscreen is giving the script exactly the level of effort it demands of them (which, presumably, was what stanley wanted. otherwise he would have said something. or like, fired them idk)

the shining:

shelley duvall's performance is extremely good and her character, wendy, is actually so smart and handling an insane situation with so much bravery and quick thinking. i love her so so much and wish her all the best

the way she knocks jack flat on his ass with a baseball bat on the stairs and immediately locks him in a pantry,,,,, iconic. if the stupid hotel ghosts hadn't noclipped jack out of there, he would have simply lost at that point because his wife did the math and calculated that he was a fake-ass bitch who couldn't take a hit

i like danny retracing his footsteps in the snow to trick jack during the chase through the maze towards the end. he and wendy are really in control of the braincell once shit starts going down, gotta say

the hotel looks cool. i want to go there and hang out (going insane is fine too, i'm already most of the way there anyway)

i was theoretically aware of what REDRUM means through pop culture osmosis, but my brain had chosen to discard that information at some point, so i was actually surprised when they revealed it. i like it when movies surprise me

i do not understand the man in the dog costume. but i am glad he is here and living his true self. happy pride love wins

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Several therapeutic white boards were drawn on. Everyone reading was so good and normal about it. So were the characters, presumably.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Additionally: apologies to Adwen and Allmune on ao3, to whom I directly said I wouldn't do this; I lied. (Whoopsie).

Also additionally: Bonus fic snippet you may have missed

💚👻👽👻💚

“Are you hungry?” Danny’s new therapist asks, her fingers playing with her pen.

Danny shrugs.

Pretty quickly, they’d figured out that these sessions went…worse…when Danny was hungry. Hunger makes him upset. Being upset makes him want to speak less. Not talking ruins the whole affair.

“Want to talk?”

Danny shakes his head, and sprawls out onto the couch—he’s allowed to basically position himself however he feels comfortable in the room, and if he has a choice, he’d rather just hang out horizontal. Does it make getting back into his chair harder? Yes. Is there a lady with super strength right outside his the office door who is willing to pick him up at a moment’s notice? Also yes.

(It’s kind of silly, but, if his legs ever stop feeling so sore…Danny is. Well.)

(He’s kind of curious how tall he’d be if Diana held him piggyback.)

“Want to draw? Paint?”

Drawing is a high-stress activity. Danny tends to default to memories when he draws these days, and he’d rather not think about that right now. Finger-painting is another option, but it’s pretty messy…even if it would be fun…

Danny’s therapist (?) (he's pretty sure that’s what she is?) is a blonde woman, with a quiet face and piercing eyes. She’d probably be less intimidating if they knew each other’s language, if Danny’s being honest; usually these types of people try to talk their way out of being intimidating. Instead, Danny sits on her pinstripe couch in unbranded sweatpants and a thin white tee, and she wears a suitjacket over her tights.

It’s all very strange. It’s not more strange than his chaperone’s usual outfit of plate armor and tiara, but still.

“Want the language bócastréon again?”

…Danny hums in thought, hands crossed across his chest. He’s pretty sure they’ve tried building a thing that’ll detect his language, like, three different times by now, but every time it winds up like the Fenton Ghost Gabber: mindlessly repeating his words back to him, unable to make heads or tails on translation. At least these trials don’t end every one of his statements with I am a ghost, fear me.

Oh well. It’s better than nothing. Danny shrugs.

The therapist clicks the machine on from a switchpad at her elbow, and a blue holographic screen fills the air. Danny only spends a little bit of time batting at the display like a cat, watching the light play off his hands for his own amusement.

“Please begin,” the thing says, and the same text pops up on the screen.

“S’up,” Danny tells it, and grins when the little display starts its very, very, long, and very, very familiar, buffering process.

Danny already knows this isn’t going to work. He might as well have fun with it.

He talks about his day, he talks about his old bedroom; he talks about what he had for lunch, toying with one of the sucker-toys he woke up with ages ago even though he doesn’t know who gave them to him. He talks about his friends, because he loves them—not Tuck and Sam, who he’ll miss the rest of his life, but Mikey and Poindexter, and what school had been like for him. Quiet topics. Easy topics.

Normal topics.

…Danny isn’t’ sure he’ll ever have normalcy again, but…remembering it isn’t so bad either. He plays with his weird suction cup toy with both hands and he talks.

“…So I ended up getting stuck without the Speeder like a million zillion miles from the portal. I thought Jazz was going to kill me, since she needed it to take her girlfriend to prom the literal next night, so I had to run around for like forty minutes looking for someone to help me out— but at least Wulf was like ‘Ne estas problemo’ and he helped me sniff out the weird cheese Vlad had left in the center console of the Speeder the week before—“

The box beeps. “Lingvo identigita: Kryptonian.”

Danny bolts upright as fast as his limbs let him.

Danny was never as good as Tucker was with Esperanto, but—  But that’s Esperanto. Danny’s hung out with Wulf long enough, did enough Duodioma with the stupid little muppet bird mascot. The box didn’t call it the right thing, but—

—But—

The therapist looks at Danny, eyes wide. Danny can’t even look at her. He’s too busy staring at the discount-aisle Ghost Gabber.

“Diru ĝin denove,” Danny demands sharply. Say it again.

The screen automatically translates his words as he speaks—in Esperanto, and then into their own language, the two transcriptions populating side by side when Danny speaks.

At this point, the woman’s mouth is open. Danny would be right there with her, but—

Danny sits there, numb.

He has a language. A language that is mostly guesswork on his part and the occasional swears Wulf will teach him as a joke, but, still, a language.

A language made up by a doctor in Poland. In the eighteen…somethings. And these people with superpowers know it. And they know what it is.

And the therapist looks at him, stunned, with new eyes, as if she knows something new about him now.

…What the hell is Kryptonian?

*

There isn’t Kryptonian plural. Danny thought there there might be.

There isn’t.There is pretty much only one.

One. Singular. Kryptonian.

That feels worse, somehow.

*

Notes taken [DATE REDACTED] 2023, 22:37 UTC.

Participants are:

KE: Kal-El of Krypton, Codename: Superman. JD: Patient, John Doe, Codename: N/A. Patient file attached.

Note: Conversation was recorded in Kryptonian. Machine translation has been provided for convenience.

*Addendum: Yeah, I can get Jor-El on this, no problem –Supes

KE: This conversation will be recorded. Are you alright with that? JD: Conver…? KE: (Writing gesture) This talk. JD: Oh! Yes. KE: Good morning. My name is Kal-El, and I am of Kryptonian descent. On Earth, I serve as a protector. My title on Earth is Superman. JD: Superman? KE: Yes. JD: (Laugh) KE: Thank you. May I know your name? JD: (No answer) KE: Take your time. You may decline as well. JD: …I… (Pause). I do not… KE: That is alright. Do you have hobbies? JD: …What? KE: What do you like to do? JD: …I like to learn about space. I like to…when the fast child…we play games? KE: The fast kid? Impulse? JD: Impulse? (Incredulous) KE: That is his title, yes. JD: Why is his name Impulse? That is… Is that an insult? KE: I think he chose it? JD: (Stunned silence) KE: You like space? JD: Y…yes. KE: Tell me about it? JD: Do they not tell you about me? KE: I hear news. I have not met you face to face. JD: (Shrugs) KE: Not since you bit me, anyway? JD: I bit you? (Incredulous) KE: You were injured, and you were scared. I did not mind. JD: I am sorry! It was an accident! (Upset) I did not mean to! I do not remember— KE: It is alright, it is alright! (Placating) JD: (Cries) KE: Hey… (Touches shoulder) Oh, sorry. I should not do that. It is alright. My dog bit me yesterday, and my son bit me the day before. It is alright. You did not hurt me. JD: (Still crying, hard to decipher) You have a dog? KE: Yes! I have a dog! He is also from space. His name is Krypto. Here, I have pictures! (Takes out communicator)

*NOTE: pictures mentioned contain images of Superdog and Superboy(II)

JD: (Still crying) Are you supposed to ask me questions?? I have been here… I have been here for a long time. People want to know about what I am, and where am I from, and what I can do, yes? KE: Well…yes, but there is a lot of time. There is no limit. JD: (Wipes nose.) KE: All I am supposed to ask you today is if you have any allergies. See?

        *NOTE: List of potential allergens has been attached to patient file.

JD: (Takes list from KE) Allergi…? Oh. No. I am… No food makes me sick. I can eat all foods. I cannot take…there is a sick medicine. For a cough. I cannot take that. KE: Good to know! (Alarmed) I’ll tell your doctors. Do you like your doctors? JD: …Yes. (Shyly) They are nice. KE: Wonder Woman says that she already asked if you feel safe. Do you feel safe with your doctors? JD: I do. Everyone here is kind. I eat a lot. I get exercise. We play games. I take breaks. I see space. I do not worry here, unless I get scared by accident. KE: I am…very glad to hear that. (Chokes up.) My son is about half your height. If my son was far away, I would want someone to help him too. We only want to do our best for you, alright? Please tell us if something is wrong. JD: So I can fight? KE: Pardon? JD: I am meant to fight, right? KE: No, no—not fighting. Just healing. And resting. JD: And then after… I am supposed to fight? KE: No. No, not—you don’t have to fight. The only thing we need is for you to be healthy. We don’t need you to fight anyone. JD: Everyone wants me to fight. (Begins stimming with slime) There are many children here. They all fight. I am eventually going to have to fight. I know.

*NOTE: Slime was provided by Medical team for therapeutic use.

KE: (Pause) Who is everyone? JD: (Silence) KE: Did someone make you fight, before? Is that why you were injured? JD: (Silence) KE: I am sorry if they did. That is not fair. You are not an adult yet, and even adults should not have to fight unless they enlist purposefully. You are a child. JD: No one thinks I am a child. KE: Who said that? JD: (Silence) KE: Did someone hurt you? JD: (Pause) I do not want to talk. KE: Alright. Can you tell me why you do not want to talk? JD: (Silence) KE: Would you like to fight? JD: I am good at fighting. KE: That is not what I asked. JD: There is no choice? When there are bad things and bad people, someone has to fight. I am strong—when I am not injured, I am strong. I fight. There are people who are not strong, and cannot fight. I can fight. I fight. KE: (Silence) JD: This is why you are healing me. KE: (Pause) No, little one. That is not why. JD: (Pause) Oh. (Puts down slime) Am I…am I going to be data again? Are you going to test my body? KE: (Puts face into hands)

[PAGE 1 OF 4]

[Interview is to be reviewed by Black Canary and Dr. Pranathi Russo MD, Pediatric Psychologist.]

*

“It’s bad!” Clark says with a watery smile, because Clark isn’t Superman at the moment—in Bruce’s home office, as private as a place as the world can get, Bruce is only Bruce, and Clark is only Clark.

When Black Canary had suggested that their debrief happen somewhere private where Clark felt safe, Bruce had known that there would be bad news. Still, he pours a mug of coffee that Clark will metabolize all the caffeine out of anyway, and pours a long, thick cup of the stuff for himself, and settles back into his warm leather chair.

“Tell me,” Bruce says, not quite Batman, but not quite Bruce either.

“Bruce, he ‘knows’ we’re going to make him fight. He thinks we’re healing him to be a child soldier.” Clark’s laugh is half joke and half derision. Bruce thinks that he understands. “He thinks we’re keeping him here as—like property, where if we pick up something dumped on the side of the road, we can fix it back up and put it to work. Like an engine, or, or…or like a lawnmower. It’s awful.”

Bruce skips the creamer and goes straight to the Baileys beneath his desk for garnishing.

On the one hand, Dick has been flying out in Gotham since he was a preteen. There had been no question about training him; training was the way one kept their children safe, the same way that Alfred had taught Bruce how to shoot as a child—no matter how much Bruce had loathed it at the time.

On the other hand, Jason’s death plays out in his nightmares in technicolor around…once every few months.

The fires. The flames.

(The alien boy found in a wrecked vehicle outside the Kent farmhouse, curled up in fear.)

Bruce thinks about Damian, and how long it had taken for Damian to understand he could be loved as a child who loved animals, and not a future prince of Gotham.

…Bruce passes the Baileys to Clark.

The Kryptonian won’t absorb any of the alcohol in any meaningful way, but he dumps the remainder of the bottle into his coffee nevertheless.

[alex51324]

Some context here:

The author of this piece, Art Buchwald, was primarily a humorist. In other words, this is not a 100% serious suggestion--although the problem is real; gays and allies were boycotting Florida orange juice because Anita Bryant was both its spokesperson and a virulent homophobe.

For those in the notes aghast at the homophobia, please note that this article is coming to you from 1977. This was the first time in American history that a major business or industry considered the possibility that a spokesperson's homophobia might cost them business!

Per the Wikipedia article linked above,

The Florida Citrus Commission publicly supported Bryant; however, the company's publicity director told the Associated Press, "The whole Anita thing is a mess. No matter what we decide, we're only going to lose. I wish she would just resign."

In other words, faced with a choice between alienating homophobes or LGBT folks, they were really hoping to find a way to avoid doing either--not so different from companies today! (What actually ended up happening was, they waited until she did something else that they could say they were firing her about.)

For those in the notes clamoring for the full text:

washingtonpost.com

When You Think of Anita Bryant . . .

Art Buchwald

4–5 minutes

Pity the poor Florida orange growers. They are caught in a quandary since Anita Bryant's victory against homosexual rights in Dade County. The orange growers pay Bryant $100,000 a year to push Florida orange juice, a job that she has done magnificently.

Anita Bryant meant orange juice and orange juice meant Anita Bryant. It is this instant celebrity identification that sponsors dream of. When you speak of Bob Hope, you're supposed to think of Texaco; mention Joe Namath and people are supposed to have a vision of pantyhose. Danny Thomas goes together with Maxwell House coffee, and, recently, when you see a picture of former Sen. Sam Ervin, it is hoped your first thought is of an American Express credit card.

The problem in Florida is that when people now see Anita Bryant on television, the first thing that comes to mind is "gay," not as in breakfast but as in "homosexual."

The Florida orange juice people are not interested in selling homosexuals. That's not their business. A majority, I would guess, are sympathetic with Bryant's stand on the issue, but the trouble with fighting homosexuals is that it doesn't sell orange juice.

First of all, no one knows how many homosexuals there are in this country because, despite all the publicity, many of them have still not come out of the closet.

Secondly, there are no figures on how many of them drink orange juice. But there are presumably enough of them to hurt the sale of Florida oranges. A sudden switch to California orange juice by gay people in this country could cost the Florida orange grove owners millions of dollars.

At the same time, the Florida orange juice industry is aware that if Anita Bryant is fired there could be a backlash from the heterosexuals in this country who would boycott Florida orange in protest.

Market surveys indicate that heterosexuals are still the largest consumers of orange juice and drink it not only for its taste but also for its vitamins and the stamina it provides them. The Florida orange industry can't afford to lose the heterosexual orange juice drinkers if they expect to stay in business.

There is a solution to the problem, which I hesitate to suggest, since I don't want to get involved in the controversy. But I will because I believe the Florida orange growers need all the help they can get.

What the Florida orange industry could do is break down its TV budget. Half of it would to to Bryant to continue pushing Florida orange juice to the "straight" people, and half would got to a gay spokesperson who would appeal to the homosexual drinkers. It would mean cutting Bryant's fee to $50,000 a year, so the gay person would get paid the same as she does. But at the same time, Bryant would only be required to make half the number of TV commercials.

It seems to me that this would satisfy everyone. The heterosexuals would be pleased to see that Bryant was still selling orange juice, and the gays would be delighted to have finally broken through on big big-time television. Florida orange juice consumption would have to go up because the TV commercials would appeal to everyone, regardless of race, religion or sexual preference.

Of course, the advertising agency for the Florida orange growers would have to find a gay spokesperson who could sing as well as Bryant. But that shouldn't be a problem. Many of our finest performers come from the gay community and would be happy to supplement their income by doing orange juice commercials.

I would do it myself, but unfortunately I can't carry a tune.