Bane holding Dick dressed as Batman: I promise I will break your back as well

Bane attempts to snap dicks spine

Dick: *bends*

Bane: *straightens Dick back and tries to snap dicks spine over his knee*

Dick ‘I wanted to be a contortionist in the circus’ Grayson: bends to accommodate shape of knee

Bane: wut

Dick: … I’m Batman?

Bane: …

Dick: idk man it seemed appropriate for the moment

Bane:….

Bane: Folds dick in half.

Dick with a satisfying noise as his spine cracks: Thanks man, I needed that for a while now. Wow, you should think about changing career paths.

Bane, genuiently terrified: Yeets Dick away.

been reading world's finest comics and fell in love with superbat co-parenting robin dynamic. that's litcherally their son

professional yapper

my kid has started to write stories and like, no lies, they’re funny as fuck

actual dialogue:

“to your battle stations, boys! it’s time to line up and see who’s tall enough for the roller coaster to hell!! some of us may not survive this, but the ones that do will get the ultimate reward.... paid.”

“here’s a penny for your thoughts, and a quarter to not tell me them”

B A B E

“everyone knows those quiet girls. the ones who never say anything at school unless a teacher makes them. the ones who you see every day but don’t know what they sound like when they laugh. lindsey is not one of those girls, but the teacher wishes she was.”

“lindsey was always loud, especially when she was being kind. she didn’t smile at people to make them happier, she screamed all the reasons they shouldn’t be sad. it was hard not to listen.”

i can’t wait to read this book tbh

My Blorbo In Hesh

Your kid is going places

Osaka buzzed with neon life, rain drizzling over crowded streets and towering signs in Kanji. But above it all, high on the steel skeleton of an under-construction skyscraper, chaos crackled like a living storm.

“Come now, boy!” Technus boomed, his voice glitched and warped as he hovered above the steel beams, electrical tendrils sparking from his gauntlets. “Ten years and still clinging to a ghost of the past? How quaint!”

Danny didn’t answer. Rain plastered his hair to his face, the white-dyed ends now blending with the storm clouds behind him. His twin guns were drawn, humming with an eerie green glow. Steam rose from the barrels with every breath he took.

He stepped forward, metal groaning beneath his boots.

“I’m not here for your speeches, Technus,” Danny muttered, raising one of the guns. “I’m here for answers.”

Technus scoffed, static dancing along his frame. “Answers? What could I possibly know about your long-lost half? He's gone, Daniel! You’re not a ghost anymore—you’re just a man playing vigilante!”

Danny fired.

A green burst of ecto-energy exploded against Technus’ shield, sending a pulse of light through the surrounding beams. Technus staggered back, laughter dying in his throat.

Danny advanced quickly, gun still raised, voice sharp. “Where is my Phantom?”

“I don’t know! I swear it on my processors!” Technus cried, clutching his sizzling shoulder. “Even my data banks have no record of him in any spectral plane! He’s—he’s off-grid! Disconnected!”

That was the worst-case answer. And the one Danny heard the most.

Danny lowered his weapon but didn't holster it. “Then you’re useless.”

Technus launched a desperate attack—bolts of blue energy arcing like lightning—but Danny rolled aside, closed the distance, and slammed the butt of his gun into Technus’ faceplate. Sparks flew. The ghost tumbled from the beam and crashed into a stack of construction materials below.

Danny stood still for a moment, catching his breath, rain dripping down his jawline.

The city below never noticed the battle.

As he finally holstered his weapons, Danny looked toward the sky. The storm clouds parted just slightly, revealing a pale moon.

“…Where are you, Phantom?” he whispered to the dark.

The wind didn’t answer. Only the distant thunder did.

——————————————————————————————

For once, there was no ambush.

No ambush, no assassin ghosts, no deranged cults or Vlad-funded paramilitaries trying to drag him back home. Just the afterglow of a finished mission and a night that, for all its stormy dramatics, had finally started to calm.

Danny walked through Osaka’s Dōtonbori district, the chaos of neon lights reflected in the puddles beneath his boots. His hoodie was up, shadowing his face, but not enough to block out the warmth of the bustling life around him. Crowds moved past him in waves—locals and tourists, laughter and conversation blending together into a hum of human normalcy.

He didn’t belong here.

But for tonight, he let himself pretend he did.

He wandered through back alleys until he found a vending machine that sold hot canned coffee—he grabbed two for no reason, then kept walking until he reached the edge of a canal. There, he sat alone on a bench, watching as glowing signs danced on the water’s surface.

He cracked open one of the coffees, letting the heat warm his palms.

It was stupid, he knew. Phantom wasn’t here. Would never be here. But part of him wished—hoped—that maybe his ghost half could see this too, just for a moment. Maybe he’d say something sarcastic about how Danny finally took a break. Or he’d say nothing at all and just sit beside him, like they used to during those rare moments of peace.

Danny took a long sip, then held up the second can next to him and left it there.

Just in case.

He wandered more. Ate takoyaki from a street vendor who never asked questions, even when Danny’s aura glitched the electric sign overhead. He played a rigged claw machine at a quiet arcade and somehow won a stuffed wolf—he gave it to a random kid who looked like they needed it more. And when he stumbled across a rooftop jazz bar playing live saxophone, he sat on the adjacent building, listening from the shadows, the cityscape sprawled out before him like a dream he never had.

For just one night, the grief dulled. Not gone. Never gone. But numbed, buried under the pulse of a city still full of life.

He still missed Phantom with everything he had. He always would.

But for tonight, he let the world be beautiful without him.

It was a simple question, one Jazz had asked casually over tea in her apartment.

"What do you imagine it’ll be like… when you finally find him?"

Danny hadn’t known how to answer. No snark, no sarcasm. Just silence and a tight grip around his mug. He’d brushed it off then, changing the subject with a joke and a shrug. But the question lingered.

It stayed with him even as he crossed cities.

It followed him to sleep.

———————————————

In his dream, the world felt softer. The air wasn’t heavy, his bones didn’t ache, and for the first time in what felt like forever, his heart didn’t weigh him down like an anchor.

He found Phantom in a twilight field lit by ghostlight fireflies. The grass shimmered with ectoplasmic glow, and Phantom stood at the center, swaying gently, like he'd been waiting.

No battle. No chaos. Just… him.

Phantom looked older—his age exactly. His hair longer, flame-like and tied back just like Danny’s. His eyes, impossibly green, scanned Danny with disbelief, exhaustion, and then something so painfully tender.

“Dude…” Phantom rasped, stumbling forward. Danny caught him before he fell. “What’s with your hair?”

Danny let out a wet laugh, tears already blurring his vision. “Who cares?”

They both laughed then—honest, unburdened laughter. Like how it used to be.

They twirled like kids at a forgotten dance, and in that movement, Phantom shimmered like mist, his form unraveling like moonlight into Danny’s chest. There was no pain. No struggle. Just warmth. A homecoming.

For the first time in ten years, Danny felt whole.

———————————————

He woke up smiling. Not crying. Not gasping or reaching out to empty sheets.

Just… smiling.

It didn’t erase the hurt. But it gave him something real.

A glimpse of what he was still fighting for.

Just because Danny’s signature weapons are his twin ghost-forged pistols doesn’t mean he’s limited to them.

No. Danny Fenton may have once been a teenage superhero, but that boy died alongside the illusion of safety and simplicity. What remains now is a man forged in the crucible of obsession, loss, and spectral warfare.

And he’s learned to adapt.

Over the years, Danny has made it a point to train with a wide array of firearms—not out of necessity, but out of strategy. Ghosts evolve. They get smarter, stronger, more unpredictable. Some even adapt to his pistols. So he made sure he could pick up anything and turn it into an extension of his will.

Revolvers give him that old-school kickback, something grounded and raw, like a cowboy ghost-hunter roaming the liminal frontier. He’s used them when he wanted to make a statement—one shot, one kill, a single thunderous echo in the night that reminded the ghost world he was still out there.

AK-47s are for crowd control. For when things spiral into chaos and he needs something durable, relentless, and mean. It’s not elegant, but it doesn’t have to be. Sometimes, the job’s about survival.

Shotguns? That’s for up-close encounters. The kind of missions where you’re too deep in hostile territory, and every corner might hold something clawed and screaming. The ghost-infused rounds tear through ectoplasm like paper. It’s messy. But then again, so is grief.

And then there’s the AR-15.

His favorite.

Sleek, powerful, and meticulously modified with custom ecto-tech that only Danny himself knows how to maintain. The barrel is etched with protective runes. The magazine feeds with ghost-charged ammo—lethal to both spirit and flesh if need be. The sights are enhanced to detect shifts in spiritual energy. It purrs in his hands like a loyal beast. 

Reliable. Cold. Unforgiving.

He’s named it “Wraith.”

Most ghosts run when they see it. Others just die. Permanently.

People might call it overkill—But Danny doesn’t see it that way. He calls it being prepared. Because he learned the hard way that his powers aren’t infallible. That sometimes, you need more than just willpower and a ghost ray. 

Sometimes, you need firepower that can pierce through dimensions, through lies, through fear.

Wraith has saved him too many times to count.

And in those quiet, empty moments between missions—when he’s cleaning the weapon in silence, the metal glinting under dim motel light—he swears it hums with the same energy he once shared with Phantom. Familiar. Lonely. Tired.

But still fighting.

Just like him.

It had been ten years since Daniel Fenton had last seen his other half.

Ten years since Vlad Masters had torn him apart.

He still remembered the pain—that unbearable, soul-searing agony as Vlad forced his ghost half out of him. His screams had echoed through the lab, but Vlad had only smiled, victorious, as the glowing form of Phantom was ripped away.

And then, before Danny could even reach for him—before he could fight back—Vlad had sent Phantom away. To where, Danny never found out.

But he swore he would.

The world knew him now as the Lost Hunter—a phantom in his own right, though not in the way he used to be. He had made a name for himself in the underground, taking down rogue ghosts and corrupt humans alike, wielding twin guns holstered at his sides. One loaded with ectoplasmic rounds for ghosts, the other with solid lead for anyone else who got in his way.

Without his ghost powers, he had to make up for it in skill, and damn did he.

Vlad might have thought stripping away his ghost half would leave him weak, but Danny had only adapted. He had trained, fought, and survived, becoming something more than just a powerless ex-hero. His name spread through ghostly circles and human crime syndicates alike. Some said he was a myth, a bogeyman that spirits whispered about in fear. Others said he was hunting something—someone.

And they were right.

Because Danny was still looking for Phantom.

For a decade, he had searched every possible realm, interrogating ghosts, breaking into hidden laboratories, even shaking down crime lords who dealt in ecto-tech. Every clue he found pointed to the same thing: Phantom was alive.

But something—someone—was keeping him hidden.

And Danny was done waiting.

The warehouse was silent as he slipped inside, his twin pistols glinting under the dim lights. His target for tonight: an informant working for Vlad Masters.

Danny had spent years dismantling Vlad’s empire, burning down his corrupt ventures piece by piece. But the old fruit loop was slippery, always a step ahead, always covering his tracks. But this time? This time Danny had him.

Because this informant, a low-level ecto-smuggler, had seen Phantom.

The guy just didn’t know it yet.

Danny moved through the shadows, his heartbeat steady. He didn’t need ghost powers to be deadly—he had learned how to be a hunter the hard way. Years of training, learning the ins and outs of combat, of human and ghost weaknesses alike. His reflexes were sharp, his mind even sharper.

A guard rounded the corner, and before he could react, Danny had his gun pressed against the man’s temple.

“Shh,” Danny murmured, voice calm and deadly. “Don’t scream. Don’t move.”

The guard froze.

Danny smiled. “Good man. Now, take me to your boss.”

The informant—Gerald Tate—was tied to a chair when Danny finally faced him. The man was sweating, wide-eyed, trembling.

Danny leaned forward, resting one pistol against the guy’s knee. “I’m only going to ask once,” he said smoothly. “Where is Phantom?”

Gerald swallowed hard. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

Bang.

The bullet lodged itself into the wooden floor, inches from Gerald’s foot.

Danny sighed, shaking his head. 

“See, that was the wrong answer.” He cocked the gun again, this time aiming at the man’s other knee. “Try again.”

Gerald broke instantly. “Okay! Okay! I heard something—just a rumor, I swear!”

Danny motioned for him to continue.

Gerald licked his lips. “Word is… Vlad’s got something locked up. Something big. Not here, not in Amity, but somewhere deep in the Ghost Zone. A fortress, hidden away.”

Danny’s pulse quickened, but he kept his expression neutral. “And?”

The man hesitated, but the glint in Danny’s eyes told him it wasn’t a good idea to stall. “Some of the ghosts—high-level ones—say they’ve seen a prisoner in that fortress. One that glows like starlight.”

Danny’s grip on his gun tightened.

Phantom.

He straightened, holstering his weapon with practiced ease. 

“Thanks for the tip,” he said coolly, turning away.

Gerald let out a shaky breath. “So… I can go?”

Danny smirked over his shoulder. “I never said that.”

The informant didn’t even have time to scream before the ecto-bullet to the head hit.

so my siblings look like twins (they are not) and once again my bullshit brain was like hmmmm batfam. So here. Have some Cass and Tim twin content. Featuring my siblings’ and I’s answers to:

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

(starts raising his hand before everyone else, just less confident about it than his classmates)

(remembers nearly all of the gibberish password that was told to him in a rush, only forgets the last two characters)

(replicates moves that he's only seen once (yes he also replicated RIPeter's move but I'm not screenshotting that bc it's long and complicated))

(figures out how to immobilize a guy that could escape any enclosure/trap)

(notices something is up/off with Gwen immediately, politely follows her lead and doesn't dig into it)

(continuation of above: realizes she's hiding something about her mission from him, decides to spy on her to figure out what)

(has information the Spider Society doesn't; figures out what the Spot is doing before any of them do)

(action plan made in 0.2 seconds)

(keeps up with what Miguel (a scientist from the future who has at least a year and a half of hands-on experience with the multiverse) is talking about)

(mentally calculates the timing of a giant spinning machine so that he can pass through safely and none of the Spiders can follow him)

(lmaooo you cannot do the same move twice on him, he learns too fast)

(this one speaks for itself. he really did have a plan)

(remembers how to use the Go Home Machine after seeing it be used once)

(immediately figures out why he's in the wrong dimension)

in conclusion, please never say/imply that:

EVER again ok thank you!!!!

I love that the only thing that slows it down is being too fucking tiny to make the teeter totter tilt the other way.

[video description: a video of a papillon running and agility course.

id: tags reading “#look how fast this rat can go” end id.]

id: tags reading

“#look how fast this rat

can go” end id.]

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

DP X Marvel

Don’t get me wrong—I love DP X DC, but I want more post for DP X Marvel, so I decided to write my own.

Danny had been in Amity Park, dodging international press, paparazzi, and the occasional FBI van parked outside his house, because, well, saving the world and exposing the existence of ghosts kind of made him a big deal. The whole “I’m actually Phantom” reveal had sent the world into a meltdown, with headlines like “Teen Ghostboy Saves Earth, Wears Same Hoodie for Six Days” and “Should Phantom Pay Taxes?” clogging up the internet.

That’s when Tony Stark showed up.

In person.

“You ever consider switching teams?” Tony asked while eating a hotdog in Danny’s kitchen like he owned the place. “I don’t mean ghost to human. I mean ghost to Avenger.”

Danny, halfway through microwaving leftover pizza, blinked. “Is this a recruitment thing or are you just lost?”

“A little of both.” Tony admitted. “I’ve got a proposition for you. Comes with a full scholarship, housing, no taxes, and a lifetime supply of Pop-Tarts.”

“…Okay but like. Why Pop-Tarts?”

“I have a theory about your ghost metabolism and artificial preservatives.” Tony said, waving his hand like it was normal science and not the start of an exorcism. “Anyway. Stark Industries internship. Full ride to Midtown School of Science and Technology. We pretend this is for science—understanding ghosts and ectoplasm and your stupid glowy ice powers or whatever—and I get to say I recruited the coolest teen superhero before the other billionaires.”

“You just don’t want me joining Batman.” Danny muttered.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say the B-word in my presence.”

So that’s how Danny Fenton—Amity Park’s favorite undead menace—ended up in New York City, living in a swanky Stark-funded high-rise with a fully stocked lab, an entire ghost-proof gym, and a contract that explicitly stated “NO OPENING INTERDIMENSIONAL PORTALS BEFORE 9AM” in Comic Sans.

Midtown High was wild. First of all, every student looked like they either had a skincare sponsorship or fought crime on the weekends. Second, the STEM program had actual quantum computers. Danny’s old school had a vending machine that exploded if you pressed B5 twice.

Third: Peter Parker.

Danny met him on his first day, right after being hit by a rogue drone in robotics class and slamming face-first into a whiteboard that read “No running in the lab.”

Peter looked down at him. “You good, man?”

Danny blinked. “Spider-Man?”

Peter blinked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Danny smirked. “Uh-huh. Tony says hi.”

Peter yanked him up by the arm and shoved him into a janitor’s closet so fast it could’ve given someone whiplash.

“Shh!” Peter exclaimed. “You can’t just say that out loud! People don’t know!”

Danny shrugged, now intangibly phasing halfway through a mop bucket. “Relax. Everyone already knows I’m Phantom. It’s not like we’re on equal secret identity footing here.”

Peter blinked at that. “Wait, you’re Phantom? Like THE Phantom?”

Danny stuck his head through the wall dramatically. “Boo.”

Peter shrieked and punched him. Which didn’t work. At all. From then on, they were inseparable.

Mostly because Tony made them sit next to each other at every Stark-sponsored science conference with assigned seating and a label that said “Teen Angst Section.” But also because they kind of understood each other. Weird powers. Exhausting double lives. Constant media attention. Love lives that were mostly disaster zones.

Also, because every time there was an emergency in New York, Danny would dramatically yell, “I GOT THIS!” turn into a glowing ghost, phase through the ceiling, and leave Peter holding their science project like, “Great. Now I have to explain this to Ms. Warren.”

There was a running bet in the school on how many times a week Danny would ghost out during class. The record was four times in a single Monday. Once during math. Twice during lunch. Once mid-presentation, when his eyes flashed green, and he mumbled, “Hold up, I think a ghost just tried to eat a nun,” before vanishing.

He got an A. Mostly out of fear.

They became known around Midtown as “Science Boyfriends,” a term coined by their English teacher after they accidentally blew up the chemistry lab and rebuilt it with better airflow and a smoothie bar.

Peter tried to deny it. Danny didn’t.

“I mean, he’s cute.” Danny would shrug while eating a granola bar and floating upside-down. “And have you seen his calves? Spider thighs? Man’s got spider thighs.”

Peter threatened to web his mouth shut. Danny turned intangible and said “do it, coward.”

Happy Hogan was having a mental breakdown.

“Mr. Stark.” He said once, after catching Danny phasing through a vending machine and Peter falling out of a ceiling vent. “They’re going to destroy the school.”

“They’re already destroying my will to live.” Tony muttered, sipping coffee while watching Phantom carry Spider-Man bridal-style on a street livestream. “But you can’t deny the brand synergy.”

And oh, the public loved Danny.

Kids wore Phantom backpacks. There was a whole TikTok trend called “Go Ghost Challenge” which was just teens flinging themselves over furniture in hopes of catching flight. People stopped him on the street for selfies. A company released a Ghost Repellent Spray that was literally just Febreze with a green label.

Meanwhile, Danny and Peter were balancing AP Physics, ghost attacks, Stark internships, and trying to keep a low profile despite Danny being literally neon.

Peter was this close to combusting.

“I can’t keep doing this.” Peter whispered during lunch, forehead pressed against a table. “My GPA is dying. I’m dying. My soul is cracking. I haven’t slept in three days.”

Danny, completely fine, sipping chocolate milk through a straw, replied, “I think a banshee tried to possess the home ec teacher.”

Peter stared. “… Danny.”

“Her cupcakes were glowing.”

“DANIEL JAMES!”

It didn’t help that the media kept speculating if Phantom was dating Spider-Man. There were articles like “Who’s the Top Ghost? Our Editors Discuss” and “Teen Heroes: Roommates or Soulmates?” Danny read them out loud during lunch.

Peter screamed into a burrito.

And then there was that time someone tried to kidnap Peter during gym class. Bad idea. Danny turned invisible, slammed the guy through the bleachers, and then flew Peter to safety in front of the entire school.

“You didn’t have to carry me!” Peter hissed later. “I had it under control.”

“You were duct-taped to a chair.” Danny pointed out.

“I was about to chew through the tape!”

“Like a squirrel.”

“Like a spider!”

After that, it wasn’t just the school that shipped them. The city did. There were shirts. Stickers. Fanfiction. Someone made a rap.

Tony started selling merch.

“We’re not even dating!” Peter yelled one afternoon, dodging a drone with their faces painted on it.

Danny just winked. “Yet.”

And honestly? They made a good team.

When ghosts got loose, Danny handled the supernatural. When aliens showed up, Peter webbed ‘em to the nearest wall. When things exploded, they blamed Flash Thompson.

Midtown might have been chaos. Their lives might have been actual flaming garbage fires. But in the middle of it all, Danny and Peter were the weirdest, most terrifying, most effective duo the teen superhero world had ever seen.

One had ghost lasers.

The other had web shooters.

Both had the fashion sense of stressed-out raccoons.

And somehow, they made it work.

Until Danny accidentally opened a portal to the Ghost Zone during prom. But that’s a story for another day.

A dumb comic about Grievous’ collection~

you get back here with those tags

I love my job, but reblogging employment jelly for someone else I love.

I loathe my job and need a new one. I need all the help I can get.

I loathe my job and

need a new one. I need all

the help I can get.

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

i took my friend to Hocking Hills state park yesterday and on our hike I talked all about the (now retired) park naturalist who mentored me years ago, along with the professor who also mentored me and how they got me my first job in my field after college, like I went on and on about my memories of them and the time I spent with them in the park, and then we got to a cave and they were both inside. I hadn’t seen either of then since I moved away seven years ago and then I went back to the state park for the first time since and they were just there. in a cave. they went to the cave together. one of them saw me and said “oh hi! what are you doing here?” like hey fancy us all being here in this cave together huh.

i can’t express how much this felt like a video game cutscene encounter. i established the lore for two hours about these specific two Guys and then they appeared, like, in their map.

it was this professor btw