Are You Not Going To Include Blue Beetle/Jaime Reyes In This?

Damsel Not In Distress: The Kidnapped Chronicles

Just a short story I'll be posting here with Danny getting kidnapped constantly but beating the shit out of his kidnappers, and somehow going viral everytime he does it.

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To think this all started because he kissed Robin on the cheek as a quick thank you for 'saving' Cujo before rushing off with his green dog. Well, unfortunately for Danny someone caught it on video and it had been trending for a while.

Things had finally settled down when some idiot kidnapped him and some other civilians claiming how he was going to use Danny to lure out the Bats because obviously giving Robin a peck on the cheek meant that they were in a relationship together.

After freeing himself and beating up the criminal this has become an almost weekly occurence. And then it finally happened, one of Gotham's major villians kidnapped him...the Joker.

Glad to say that after freeing himself Danny promptly walked up to the man who was still talking to the camera, not noticing the pissed off teenager behind him, and used the ropes that once had him tied to choke the Joker. Luckily for the Joker the Bats arrived and took care of things before it became a crime scene.

What Danny was not expecting was being crushed on by Robin, who had been showing up after his beatdown of criminals.

Too bad Damian Wayne wants to make Danny his.

I like conquest im giving him a son

As Bruce grows older into his 50's or 60's the paparazzi and people crowding him becomes less and he thinks that people have finally decided that Bruce is too old to be attractive or mainstream and he's actually super fine with it and makes jokes( more like sarcastic remarks) about it. But in reality they've grown more freaky cause instead of looking wrinkly and a sappy old man the level of cunt he serves grows everyday,he doesn't look like a snack he looks like a buffet, 13 year olds are using his pics as the cover pages of their mafia wattpad stories, he looks majestic, absolute dilf, we don't talk about the amount of tags he's birthed just by ageing on ao3, and hes still an absolute UNIT, the reason he's not heard about it yet cause the batkids are blocking the shit OUT with all of their will and strength cause it doesn't matter if all of them are full grown adults they're still all like-THATSMYDADGETAWAYFROMHIMHEDOESN'THAVETIMEFORYOUHESBUSYBEINGOURDAD

What do you all think about Jjk x Dp fics because I think there is a lot of potential there to be honest.

I'm mostly just saying this because I want some of the characters to come across Phantom and be like GOJO JR?! It' be funny to me.

May I request more RoD Fuyuhiko and kidnapped Makoto? 😩

Oh boy, I've imagined this so many ways. Right now, I'm kind of into the idea of it being a very formal and dignified kidnapping.

Like, he's got that three-piece suit brand of villainy; he could send Peko to knock Makoto out and drag him home (and if they were close/dating in school, he does think of his home as Makoto's home, however complicated his feelings are now), but more likely he's sending a car to block Makoto's (walking) path and Peko climbs out and informs Makoto that the head of the yakuza would like a word and it's nonnegotiable.

Ideally (for Fuyuhiko), he does this before the Future Foundation gets to Makoto, but he'll find a way after, if needed. (And it's perhaps more interesting, story-wise, if Makoto has at least spent a couple of days with Future Foundation before Fuyuhiko can abduct him.) Whatever the case, he'll make arrangements to get Makoto alone, a car will pull up in front of him, and:

"Makoto Naegi," the gray-haired woman says. (Not like a question; it hasn't been a question since the killing game. At least, not a genuine one. It's so weird, to have other people know his name before he knows theirs.) "Your presence has been requested. The boss asks that you get in the car without making a scene, and nobody gets hurt."

"The boss?"

"You won't know the details until you meet the boss in person." The young woman shifts her shoulders in a way that subtly hefts the sword bag strapped to her back– which she hasn't yet reached for. "Will you come willingly and save the lives of the companions who have lost track of you already, or will you resist, be taken by force, and guarantee the blood of your companions is shed?"

Makoto's confused demeanor hardens, sharpens, the adrenaline pumping in his veins sending him right into trial mode, ready to argue, to push his way to the right answer.

But before an argument can form in his mouth, he takes another breath. And he says, "They won't be harmed if I get in the car?"

They will lie to you, he's been told. They will trick you. It's not like Enoshima's game; those aligned with despair have no rules, no honor. Especially not if they valued those things before.

"The boss gives his word," the young woman replies. "They won't be harmed."

If she's telling the truth, then he has to get in the car. If she's not...then she still has a sword, is the thing. And even without it, she's bigger and he's alone.

"Then I hope your boss doesn't squander his word," Makoto says warily.

"And I hope you aren't stalling." Strangely, the young woman smirks. The look she's giving him now is almost fond. "I've told you once before that you aren't good at it. But you don't remember that, do you?"

Before he can wrap his head around that, gunshots start going off somewhere.

Makoto's blood runs cold, at the sound of far-off screams. "You said they wouldn't-!"

The young woman merely sighs, rolling her eyes and drawing her sword from her bag as languidly as though it's a tedious chore. "They're early," she says. "Heads will roll for that. My master wanted you to come willingly. It would have pleased him a great deal."

Makoto does his best to run, but she strikes him with the hilt just hard enough to dizzy (and no doubt bruise) him, and while he's disoriented, she hauls him into the car and locks the doors.

She buckles him in while he's blinking the stars out of his eyes and nursing the sore spot. By the time he's steadied himself enough to try to unbuckle himself or reach for the car door, her blade is already hovering at his throat.

She's sitting beside him, also buckled in. The car has started moving– some faceless driver, divided from them by tinted glass. "My master would prefer that I deliver you to him untied," she informs him, "but I am permitted to bind your wrists and ankles, should you make it necessary."

"Who are you?" he asks.

"You don't need a name to address me, with only two of us here. And once I deliver you to the boss, there will be no need for you to address me at all."

"But who are you?"

With a single, almost imperceptibly swift motion, her sword returns to its bag. "I am the sword on my back," she answers. "Don't waste your questions on a sword."

He falls asleep in the car; it's a long-ish ride. He doesn't mean to nod off, but subconsciously there's an assumption that when the car stops, he'll naturally wake up.

This does not happen.

Instead, he wakes up in someone's private study.

There are bookshelves, a big wooden desk and cushioned chair. The lights are off, but there's a fire in the fireplace. Makoto is sprawled across a small couch. The gray-haired woman stands with her back to the wall and her hands folded.

And a small figure stands warming by the fire. His back to Makoto, his whole form shadowed.

"You know," the young man says, "I really didn't expect you to survive."

Makoto's hand finds the sore spot on his head again. (For some reason, he's thinking of Mondo.) "I, uh, get that a lot."

A breathy laugh. "I'll fvcking bet. What else do you get a lot?"

"...That I'm short in person? That I should've told someone about Sakura. That I should see a doctor, because that fall might have caused internal damage. That my voice sounded kind of squeaky on TV. That my eyes actually look browner than they expected, or greener. That Sayaka..." He trails off. People...say a lot of things about Sayaka. That they used to be a fan of hers but would never see her the same, that they were still a fan and they hoped it was okay with him, that they'd been rooting for Makoto to figure out her plan before...Yeah, they say a lot of things.

Why is he telling a stranger any of this?

Is he stalling, knowing this conversation is likely to get a lot less friendly soon?

It doesn't feel like it. He does feel the dread of knowing that this abduction is clearly not a friendly one; he heard the gunshots earlier. He remembers that. But something in the way the young man at the fireplace laughed, the way the gray-haired woman smiled, before...He doesn't know them, but it seems like they know him. Not in the way of the people who feel they know him from watching the killing game. Talking to them feels like talking to people who actually know him.

"That Maizono b!tch," the young man scoffs. "I could have thrown up, watching you fawn over her fake *ss all over again."

And just like that, Makoto's curiosity takes a back seat. "Don't call her that!"

"Traitor-*ss b!tch. I was glad she died first."

Makoto springs to his feet, but he's barely taken two steps in the young man's direction before the gray-haired woman has once again blocked him with the edge of her blade. "Sayaka wasn't a traitor! She never wanted to hurt anyone! That was just what Junko drove her to!"

"...And that's saying something," the young man continues, ignoring Makoto's interruption, "because I was really wondering what it would feel like to watch you die. What I would become, after. I was really fvcking curious. Still am."

Makoto's fear doesn't supersede his anger; it just shapes it. "I don't know who you are," he says bluntly.

The young man's head turns slightly, but other than that he doesn't respond.

"Who are you?"

"The kid wants an introduction." His head turns toward the gray-haired woman. Though Makoto can't see his face, the smirk is audible in his voice as he continues, "Only, suppose we like to be forgotten."

"I figured you were probably someone I used to know...right?"

Once again, no verbal answer.

"Both of you," he continues. "Maybe...from my time at Hope's Peak Academy, or maybe-"

"Did I say his *ss could speak?" the young man inquires.

"You didn't, Young Master," the gray-haired woman says.

"I don't know what you want with me," Makoto continues firmly. "Or, what you think you're getting out of bringing me here, so it would help if you'd just tell me." After a second of silence, he added, "If you're someone who thinks I killed Junko-"

"You didn't kill Junko." The young man turns to face Makoto, but the darkness in the room and the fire at his back still make it impossible to really see his face. "Junko went out on her own terms. You didn't even push the button; all you did was win an unwinnable game. And those dumb*sses sure were desperate to hitch themselves to a winner."

"Who are you?"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm still fvcking pissed off that we all missed out on Plan A. She told us all about the execution she'd put herself through if she somehow lost, but Plan A was always a surprise. She was so sure she'd win."

"Who are you?"

"But that's not why you're here." Suddenly, the young man grabs a fistful of Makoto's shirt and drags him close. They're face to face. Makoto sees golden eyes and freckles. "No, you're here because I was denied the chance to watch you die. And like I said, I'm really fvcking curious."

Before Makoto can conceive of a response, he is shoved backwards to the carpeted floor.

"Take him to his room."

"H-Hey...!" Makoto winces as the gray-haired woman grabs him by the upper arm, yanks him to his feet, and drags him from the room.

*Stuck in their civilian identities trying to stop a villain*

Clark: *whispering* Bruce what do we do?!

Bruce: *whispering back, stuck in Brucie mode* I dunno man, usually I just flash my tits and all my problems go away

*Clark’s eyes dart down to Bruce’s unbuttoned shirt and a blush takes over his cheeks*

Clark: Oh, erm, *cough* y-yeah I could see that…

Another thing I'd like to say is I'd also like to thank artists that draw Hajime or Izuru hairy; truly like the stars intended. Don't even get me started on the combination of a hairy and buff Izuru or Hajime.

Whoever came up with the buff Hajime headcanon I thank you daily because you are so right. Everytime I see a piece of art where Hajime is buff and tanned from constantly being out in the sun on the island I do a happy dance in my head and a monokuma explodes.

obsessed w their before and afters

I'm Sorry, Can You Say That Again?

Had an idea for dpxdc fandom again 🤭. By the way nobody knows about Amity Park, the town just sorta appeared one day to outsiders.

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"I'm sorry can you say that again?"

The reporter's mic was up to his face and the cameras were rolling, who was Danny to stop the direction this was going now?

"Yeah so like I accidentally time travelled to the past and met some aliens. We got along really well if you know what I mean."

"Sir are you admiting that you travelled back in time and had sex with aliens?"

"Yup! I believe they were called kyrptonians or something, I even held their baby, he was the cutest thing ever. I believe his name was Kal-El."

"...Kryptonian as in the same species as Superman."

"Superwho?"

All of this transformers art is resparking my interest in these gay ass robots again. Shit, I haven't even watched the new movie and I've already got a fic in the drafts. 🤣