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redactedgoose · 3 years ago

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A Family that Slays Together Stays Together

PR225/ PL65/ Brie/River/ Human : Halfa!Jazz AU: Jazz has been protecting Amity Park from other ghosts for years now! So who does this Phantom character think he is, coming into her haunt and trying to tell her how to do her job???

Jazz grits her teeth as she dodges another ectopus tentacle while keeping a hand on it. It’s harder than she makes it look-- or, it would be if anyone could see it.

No, she’s just grappling with four--

Five, she mentally corrects as another squishy body impacts her lower back and she has to stifle a grunt.

--five ectopuses hundreds of feet above a busy street while keeping her invisibility stretched over the darn things.

In the beginning, she really hadn’t known what was happening. Sure, her parents always talked about ghosts, but she had just chalked it up to obsessive behavior as a reaction to a childhood trauma. Most people had trauma from their childhoods, and those people dealt with it in different ways. The Doctors Fenton had chosen to fight… ghosts.

There were worse things to do than chase a fantasy. At least they hadn’t become serial killers or started an underground fight club or messed with the mafia or something.

(It gave them agency, she used to think. Building better and better weapons to combat more powerful, unknowable beings that were always out of their reach was certainly A Behavior that likely stemmed from a very deep trauma in their early lives, so while Jazz had dearly wanted them to change their behaviors, she really couldn’t begrudge them this.)

(Now she knew differently.)

And then she started seeing things.

The green, glowing goop in the basement had been the first step. Everything had been normal before that. Or, well, normal for her. She would get up, dress herself and her baby brother Danny, feed herself and Danny, and then walk him to the elementary school before rushing over to the middle school before she was late.

One day, though, in her first year of high school, her parents had called her down to the basement to show off their newest, exciting discovery in the esteemed field of ecology: ectoplasm.

Jazz had taken one look before marching back up the stairs, wondering which one of them had finally caved and bought the ingredients to make the glowing slime to further the other’s delusions.

And then the hotdogs came to life.

Jazz had very carefully resealed the ziplock bag and tossed it into the trash, putting the whole thing out of her mind. Some parasites, she had researched later, could make it seem like the tainted food was wiggling.

She’d paid a careful amount of no attention at all to the glowing blobs or orbs or similar that she had started to see out of the corner of her eye. It was stress, most likely. Change is always stressful, and moving up to high school is one of the most important big milestones in a youth’s life.

Or, maybe, sleep deprivation. The possibilities were simultaneously truly endless and well-documented and explained.

Jazz was usually very careful with eating anything that her parents had made for them because of a few-too-many times getting food poisoning, but she had let down her guard around the takeout her parents had brought home one day after their “ghost hunting.”

Danny hadn’t been there to eat, thankfully. He’d been off with one of his friends, Tucker Foley. He was staying the night at the Foley residence to work on homework and generally hang out with one of his friends. It was very healthy, productive, and de-stressing behavior that Jazz generally approved of.

And then she’d thrown up the blindingly green substance later that night.

It stained the toilet a neon green, the tips of her hair that had caught the vomit turning a seafoam blue, the polar opposite of her own hair color.

It was almost welling up in her. She couldn’t stop throwing it up and the more she expelled, the more her eyes and nose seemed to water, until she touched it to find that those areas were leaking ectoplasm as well.

She had stripped down to her leggings and tight undershirt almost immediately, irrationally concerned for the state of her clothing if the ectoplasm would drip on them.

The leaking wouldn’t stop, so she did the logical thing and started to run a bath. She could get clean and hide the sound of her puking her guts up every few minutes. A great idea, in her opinion.

Less of a great opinion, she thought a few minutes later when her strength started going while she was in the tub.

The entire thing looked like it was filled to the brim with ectoplasm, the substance having started to leak out of her very pores a few minutes after she had climbed in the tub.

The last thing that had passed through her mind as she had slipped under the surface of the ectoplasm laden water had been: I hope Danny doesn’t find me.

And then the first thing that she thought when she shot up again some time later was: I’m going to be late for class!

Her hand scrabbled over to the side, looking for her alarm clock.

She froze, though, finding nothing. Then her awareness started to spread outwards.

She was in the tub. The water was faintly green.

She had just sat up from the bottom of the water filled bathtub.

Nope. This is a dream. This has to be a dream.

She pinches her arm and winces, before freezing.

It’s not a dream.

Jazz mechanically climbs out of the water, very pointedly not thinking about it. Repression isn’t healthy, she knows, but there’s a time and place to process things and this is emphatically neither the time nor the place. She has to get to school.

And then she catches sight of herself in the mirror.

The first thing that she notices is her hair. Not only is it a completely different color, it’s floating slightly like it’s suspended in water. Her skin, too-- and her eyes. Her clothes are completely different colors and--

Every single change crashes across her mind at once and she reels back away from the mirror--

And falls through the wall.

She crashes onto the floor of her room and stares at the wall covered with her academic excellence certificates with blank eyes.

For a while, she doesn’t really… think.

It seems like that time and place to process things is now.

“Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth,” she murmurs to herself, raising her hand up in the air to study it.

It’s pale, paler than normal, with a faint purple tint. Her veins stand out starkly bruise-blue beneath her skin. Her nails are slightly blackened.

Her hair hasn't stopped… undulating, either. Even laying on the ground it still spread out and waved gently like a corona with her head as the center.

And then- and then ghosts were real. And while she wasn’t a ghost, there was no way that she was still human, she thought, staring into the mirror as she touched a hand to her once more orange hair.

The blobs and stuff she’d seen out of the corner of her eye had come into clear resolution after that day. They were mostly actual little blobs that were actually quite cute and cuddly, but also some ghosts that looked like animals. Critters, mostly, but also inexplicably octopus shaped ones. They’re nowhere near any body of water that would contain octopuses.

The first human ghost she meets is by chance. She’s just walking down the street near the Greyhound station when she bumps into someone by chance, not paying attention in the slightest as she tries to calculate her time.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes profusely, turning to look back.

The man she bumped into is staring at her, jaw agape. The hair on the back of her neck stands up.

“You can see me?” He asks, moving closer to her. “You can- you can interact with me?”

She glances around as she takes a half-step back, bringing her arms up defensively.

The man-- now that she’s really looking at him, he looks almost transparent-- flinches back.

“Oh,” he says breathlessly. “You’re one of them. A halfa.”

Twenty minutes and a walk to the park later, she’s grilling him for information.

“A half ghost,” he clarifies. “I’ve only heard of them in legends before. Although, I haven’t been dead very long. Ten years, maybe? I haven’t really gotten around a lot.”

And:

“Yeah, I was surprised to see someone like you out of the Infinite Realms. You’ve never heard of it? It’s where most of the ghosts in the world live, and other things besides. I accidentally fell out of a rip and I’ve been traveling around, mostly on buses and sometimes hitchhiking-- which is fun, let me tell you-- to find another one. That’s why I came here. Oh, it’s been no problem. If someone sees me, they usually think I’m just another person, albeit with some funky style.”

And:

“Of course there are other humans. I’m from the more modern part of the Realms, but like the name says, there’s plenty of spaces. Realms, ya dig? The Greek area is supposed to be really cool, but I’m a pretty new ghost so I’m not very strong.”

And:

“You’re only a couple months dead? And you’re this strong? Wow. I’m almost jealous.”

So there’s that.

The man, Gary, finds a rip big enough for him to get back into the Infinite Realms, leaving Jazz with a lot of new and potentially troubling information. What if more people that weren’t as nice-- or as weak-- as him came through to Amity? Worse, what if those ‘others’ came through?

Which leads to Jazz taking more of an active part in keeping the town ghost free.

It’s a win-win situation, really. If there are no ghosts to fight, her parents will stop endangering Danny. And if there are no ghosts in town, Danny won’t get caught up in any ghost fights.

Like she said, it’s a win-win.

Sure, she might have to give up a few hours of sleep every night, but she still pulls straight A’s. On the upside, she finds out that she now has an eidetic memory and can make clones of herself, both of which are extremely helpful when she doesn’t have a lot of time but a lot of things to deal with.

It’s about a year and a half later that she realizes that while she wouldn’t ever be able to close any rips in the Veil-- a term for the separation between the Realms and the living world she had learned from another ghost among the ones that visited every so often, a vampire looking fellow with a penchant for pink-- she would be able to be strong enough to make sure no one ever set foot in Amity.

Of course, that all changed a little over half a year later. It’s the summer before her junior year of high school and Danny’s freshman year when her parents announce that they’re building a portal to the Ghost Zone.

Besides the silly name that they give it, Jazz thinks that this is an extraordinarily bad idea for a number of reasons, none of which she can outright tell them.

She’s not even sure if she should do anything. While they are dedicated and her dad’s a genius inventor-- well, mostly, not accounting all the weird kitchen appliances-- she’s not even sure that they’ll succeed.

Jazz is proved right when they finally finish and make a whole thing out of turning it on for the first time… and it doesn’t work.

She leaves for the day satisfied. Her parents are nowhere near that, but still go out to do their own “ghost hunting” which… well. Danny is out with his friends, Tucker and Sam.

So imagine her surprise when not even the next day they announce the portal is open.

What? How?

And then her workload increased.

“Lady,” Plasmius greets with a smirk.

“Plasmius,” Jazz returns tensely. “What are you doing here?”

He popped up every so often and Jazz couldn’t quite figure out what his deal was. However, she had made her own very clear: stay out of Amity.

“Oh, can’t a ghost come to visit the only stable portal in the world? It’s quite a marvel.”

They’re both floating high above the city, invisible to those below.

“It must have been a delightful surprise for the resident ghost hunters to open something so… dangerous in the middle of your haunt,” he continues. “Perhaps I could--”

“Leave,” she interjects.

He scowls at her. “I was only going to offer my assistance in removing them. They’re quite the headache, aren’t they?”

“Plasmius,” she says, tone clearly warning even as she flares her aura. “Leave,” she repeats. “As you said, this is my haunt. I can take care of my own problems.”

Plasmius stares at her for another beat, before bowing mockingly. “As you say, Lady.”

He wraps himself in his cloak and disappears in a puff of pink mist.

Her hair and long, flowing gossamer dress-- which had been a late but welcome addition after she had realized she could change what she wore-- relax somewhat. They’d been whipping around like they were caught in a rip current and return to their more relaxed undulations.

But she’s still on edge.

New, more powerful ghosts than the usual drifters had been coming into town. It hadn’t even been a month and yet she had to lay down the law of her haunt to at least five ghosts. They were mostly nuisances, though-- one, for example, was a box-obsessed man who had literally named himself as the Box Ghost to her. His obsession was literally centered around boxes.

As the weeks drift on, she wonders if she should enter the Realms.

In the grand scheme of things, she’s still a very new ghost, only two years dead. The only thing holding her back is that she isn’t really a ghost, though-- she’s a halfa. It’s not the fear of rejection, which is usually unfounded and an anxiety-driven response. No, she’s more worried about more tangible things. She truly doesn’t know if she would be welcome or not.

Although, she could pretend to be a real ghost.

Her name would help with that. She’d been dubbed the Lady of the Lake in part due to her appearance as someone who drowned. One of the drifters had thought she drowned in the nearby Great Lake and she hadn’t dissuaded them of the notion. Her hair and clothes always looked like they were floating in a body of water, and she could even produce water if she tried.

If she could pretend to be an older ghost… maybe.

But for now, she has issues to deal with here in Amity. Currently, the ectopuses. It might be because of her water powers, but the darn things were almost drawn to her. It didn’t help that they were one of the most intelligent critter ghosts.

She finally finishes prizing them off her arms as she flies down to the wooded area outside of town.

“Alright,” she grumbles. “Off you go. Shoo.”

One of them makes a feeble attempt to stay with her but she just douses it in a blast of water with the unsaid threat to punt it halfway across the lake if it doesn't stop.

She’s done it before and she’ll do it again.

It slinks off dejectedly, it’s mantle sagging.

The next morning, her parents showcase their newest invention: a ghost finder. She’s nervous for about two seconds before it shows that it doesn’t work by targeting Danny.

“Seriously?” She asks, grabbing Danny by the shoulders and gently pulling him away. “Please test your tech somewhere that’s not the dinner table. Come on, I’ll drive you to school,” she offers with a smile.

“Yes please,” he mutters, glancing back at their parents with a strange look in his eye.

Danny is on her mind throughout the day, in no small part thanks to his friend, Sam. Her change to the school’s menu is… interesting, to say the least, and she’s thankful for upperclassman privileges as she leaves the school to head to one of the small cafes in town to get something that’s not literal grass.

It can’t be literal grass, can it?

When she gets home for the day, the first thing her lovely parents do is to set off a smoke bomb and try to vaccuum the ghost out of her.

Thankfully, all it does is get her hair stuck in it.

“I’m not possessed,” she says, crossing her arms, a deep frown creasing her face. Not a lie, technically. “Please, stop.”

Her parents sheepishly look up at her from the floor, where they’re currently laying on the ground with their hands wrapped around her ankles. The ghost vacuum tugs on her hair.

She manages to extract herself from the contraption, but as she walks away, she picks up on them whispering behind her.

“It didn’t work.”

“Don’t worry, Maddie,” her dad whispers loudly. “We’ll get that no-good spook out of her one way or another.”

She stifles a groan.

The next morning is pretty wild. The dietary preferences of Danny’s friends have somehow reached a point of a feud between the two of them culminating in what looks like a meat versus veggie protest.

There’s no way Amity Park can get weirder, she thinks, shaking her head with a sigh.

Jazz moves inside the school to attend to her peer mentoring duties. She’s cut back a lot of her extracurriculars to have more time to defend her haunt, but the peer mentoring program is one of the most important things to her.

She’s not entirely sure what her obsession is, but she thinks that it might have something to do with taking care of people. Being a mentor definitely gives her the same relief that successfully defending her haunt does, which seems to point to that conclusion.

Maybe she should write a paper about ghost psychology. While her parents were probably the best known-- and most eccentric-- of the ectology community, they certainly weren’t the only ones. She could publish under a pseudonym, maybe.

Later, she bids her mentee goodbye after a good session, heading outside for some fresh air-- only to be trapped under a net.

“Gotcha!” Her dad cries.

Deep breaths, Jazz. No powers. Don’t get emotional.

“Are you really still doing this?” She asks incredulously. “Ghosts don’t exist!”

“Of course they do, sweetie!” Her mom says.

“Mom,” she says gently. “Dad. Look around. Ghosts don’t exist.”

She may be cheating just a little bit and using one of her powers to sway their judgment a little, but it’s better for everyone if they give up.

Jazz tugs the net off of her, holding back a wince at the slight sting of the ectoplasm-infused ropes.

“You… really think so?” Maddie says, brows pinching together as she frowns.

“I… guess…” Jack mumbles, much more quietly than his usual bass boom.

And then a wave of meat crashes to the ground beside them, a glowing black and white figure crashing through the ground.

“What-?” Jazz mutters, hardly believing her eyes, while her parents perk right back up.

“A ghost!” Jack hollers. “It stole the Fenton Thermos!”

That ghost boy-- because, really, he’s young-- seems powerful, almost on the level of Plasmius. Jazz can’t confidently say that she would beat him.

She can’t find him after the fight with the Lunch Lady is over, but she does find him in the next couple weeks-- just flying around in plain sight, chasing one of the ectopuses down.

“Excuse you,” she says icily. “This is my haunt.”

The boy’s head whips around as he stops on a dime, a thin wisp of opaque energy issuing from his mouth.

“You’re a ghost,” he says, settling himself into a fighting stance.

She arches an eyebrow. “How insightful. What are you doing in my haunt?”

“Haunt?” She hears the boy mutter. Then, more loudly he asks, “What’s your name?”

She raises her chin, flaring her aura. “I am the Lady of the Lake. Amity Park is my haunt. Leave.”

“Not another one that wants to take over the world,” he mutters.

Jazz narrows her eyes at this upstart of a ghost. Who is he to come into her haunt and pretend like it’s his?

“I think you’ll find I was here first,” she says. Her core pulses in her chest painfully as she decides to fight him, making her draw up short.

She tilts her head at him, trying to recognize him. Did he die recently in or around Amity Park? That would be the only reason her body would rebel against her. It’s not easy to do something that directly opposes your obsession.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” She says, interrupting whatever he was trying to say. “I can tell. Were you born in Amity?”

It’s more polite to not outright refer to a ghost’s death.

“Yeah,” he says cautiously, floating backwards a little, away from her.

Jazz’s core aches.

She inclines her head. “I apologize for my aggressive behavior, then. But this is my haunt, and I have rules. I won’t make you leave, since you’re likely tied here.” She flares her aura again, voice turning serious. “But if you attack anyone--”

“Never,” the boy spits, surging forward slightly, eyes flashing the same acidic green that she sees in her dreams and nightmares. “I would never hurt anyone.”

“Danny!” A familiar voice calls from below. Jazz’s blood turns to ice at Sam’s frantic tone calling her brother and she whips around to stare at her.

But Danny is nowhere to be seen.

The boy zips between her and Danny’s friends on the ground, hands glowing with energy. “Don’t touch them,” he warns, his own aura flaring threateningly.

A protection obsession?

She raises her hands placatingly. “I protect my haunt,” she tells him. “That includes the humans living in it.”

The boy relaxes, just slightly. “They… found out about me!” He says almost frantically. “That’s my name. Danny.”

Jazz’s core aches again, even as he continues to talk.

“Danny Phantom,” he continues, more assuredly. “You can call me Phantom.”

She stares at him, mind whirring.

The portal didn’t work, and then it did. Danny’s been avoiding her. Their parents’ inventions keep locking onto him.

That suit he’s wearing looks suspiciously like one of their HAZMATs.

His name would be a truly stupid pun if she was right, which just gives her more evidence.

But Danny’s not dead.

But you’re not either, a small voice pipes up in the back of her head.

No.

“Danny?” She asks before she can stop herself. “Or is it Daniel? Daniel Fenton.”

He flinches back.

“So you know I’m a halfa too.”

“I guessed,” she admits, her core feeling like it’s about to tear out of her chest.

She couldn’t take care of him. He died and it was only by some miraculous chance that he came back.

“And what are you going to do about it?” He asks, putting on that same similar bravado as usual.

Now that she knows, she can’t help but keep drawing comparisons.

“...come here for a second,” she says, motioning him along. “Your friends can come as well. We’re going to just outside of town.”

He looks at her suspiciously but drifts down to his friends-- and Jazz can’t help but be thankful that they stayed with him even through dying, that he had people to support him-- and whispers to them, before they both nod at him.

He picks them up and she starts off, feeling him follow.

“So, why did you want us to come?” He asks once they’ve touched down under the cover of the trees.

“Well,” she starts. “There was a reason that I thought you might be a halfa. I’m one as well.”

She turns to look at him and he’s gaping at her.

She smiles, before letting the usual rings of energy drift over her body.

“Hello, little brother.”

#danny phantom #phic phight 2022 #dp #jazz fenton #halfa jazz au

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dcarevu · 6 years ago

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Batman TAS: Feat of Clay (Part 1)

“Sweet dreams, slime ball”

Out of the three two-parters so far, the two best ones have involved a villain with the word “face” in their name. Maybe if Red Claw had been Claw Face, we would have gotten a better conclusion?

Episode: 20 Robin: No Writers: Michael Reaves (story), Marv Wolfman (story/teleplay) Director: Dick Sebast Animator: Akom Airdate: September 8, 1992 Grade: A

Now this is more like it! It’s like the writing process of Prophecy of Doom was someone taking the Renuyu cream and dumping it all over Batman TAS, turning it into a blob. But then for this one, Marv Wolfman and Michael Reaves took that blob and meticulously sculpted it back into something awesome. We’ve seen from Pretty Poison what Michael Reaves can do, and back when we covered that episode, I gave most of the credit to Paul Dini, due to him being the only name I recognized at the time. That is part of why I love doing this blog series. I am learning so much more about the series than I would otherwise! I’m learning about different members of the creative team, breathing new life into the DCAU for me. I swear, it’s like watching something I’ve never seen before sometimes! Looking through Michael Reave’s episode resumé, I’m seeing some very mixed results, and he’s very much responsible for a future episode that many people seriously pan. But he’s also done a handful of potential top 10 material. This shows me that back when tv show episodes were ordered in bulk, it gave a lot less room to throw out potential bummers. When a standard 13-episode season is ordered, you can overshoot a little bit easier and then streamline the selection. I can’t even imagine never producing a show before, and then being told that I gotta make over 60 installments for the first run. I think that being a great writer is only partially about writing awesome things. It’s also knowing what to get rid of and what to cut down. I don’t care who you are, you’re not going to have good ideas always, and your mindset can be in a weird place for one day out of seven, causing something you regret.

Most of what stood out to me for this one was the sheer intensity of it, and I think that stands true for Char as well. She mentioned that the fight was pretty violent in parts, that the origin of Clayface was enjoyably gruesome/messed up beyond belief, and that Batman’s interrogation moment was batshit insane! Going through these aspects one by one, we first have the fight scene. The one that happens right after the phony Bruce Wayne tries to kill Lucius Fox (happy first appearance, by the way). I love the way that Batman just punts Germs (one of Roland Daggett’s thugs who is ironically a germaphobe) across the room, into a switch. It makes me consider doing a post called “Top 10 DCAU Kicks” or something. And then right after that, Germs tries to shove Batman’s head between notches on some interconnecting, spinning gears.

The amount of times Batman comes so close to death during even little scenes like this against ordinary thugs… Like, I get that he’s Batman, and he’s awesome, and he’s not to be messed with, but I feel like he must be so settled into the mindset of “I could die any night”. I know I’ve talked in the past about Bruce having a hard time forming meaningful relationships sometimes, but this adds to that. It’s not just a matter of keeping a secret or physically exerting yourself so often. Being Batman is also about accepting the very real possibility of a gruesome death, no matter what you’ve got scheduled for the rest of the week.

Clayface’s origin is kind of a fight scene as well I guess, and it’s no less pulse-pounding. Roland Daggett mentions to his thugs that he wants them to get rid of Matt Hagen (who was on a magazine cover a couple episodes back), as he has “outlived his usefulness”. They know that he will come around the area, looking for more of that face cream, because it has made him an addict. And it’s not even a simple mental addiction, like how I am addicted to cereal (totally legit). It apparently has chemically addicting properties, and on top of that, Matt obviously has some huge self esteem issues. Not to say that I blame him. He does sorta have a face that only a mother could love.

He’s not just concerned with looking “attractive” for when he’s acting, though, he doesn’t want anyone to see him at all when the face cream wears off. He yells at his best friend, Teddy, to shut the door of his dressing area in a hurry so that no one catches a glimpse of what he looks like. It’s sad to see Matt and Teddy interacting the way they do. They’re supposed to be friends, but Matt has obviously let his situation get to his head, much like what can happen with drug addicts in the real world. And with Matt at probably the worst he’s ever been, Roland Daggett is nothing but a heartless monster. These crime bosses in this show piss me off!

This is the second episode that we’ve had which has tackled the subject of drug addicting in a very respectable way. If we didn’t get the heaviness and great story with the drug elements, it would seem as preachy. But they use the idea of drug addiction as a plot element rather than revolving the plot around that. It helps make the story flow like Matt Hagen’s eventual skin. And speaking of that, to apparently kill Matt Hagen, what the thugs do when he arrives at the location they predict he will, they take a big container of the Renuyu face cream and dump it all over his body. I think. That’s what I always thought was happening, but it has come to my attention that maybe they were just aiming for directly into his mouth. That is honestly just despicable of them.

That silhouette has way more of a dramatic effect on me than just showing it would have.

Injuring him in one of the nastiest ways possible (basically turning his body into liquid shit) with the very thing running his life, and ultimately destroying it. If Matt never found that face cream, he probably would have been alright. Maybe not a famous actor, but he could have gotten by. Probably found love. Not this way. At least, not for now. I’ll admit, I really couldn’t tell you if Matt Hagen was a decent person before getting into this mess, and I will talk a little bit more about that next time. But to say he deserved what he got? No way! And this is what makes him another oh-so-tragic rogue for the DCAU.

Okay, and then can we talk about that interrogation scene where Batman stabs the pointy ears of his Batwing through a thug’s car, rips the door off, and then grabs him by the wrist with this little robotic extendable arm, high above the rooftops of Gotham City?

Jesus Christ, Batman! I get that someone is impersonating you (and this time it was in purpose, not coincidental like with Man-Bat in episode 1), and that it may piss you off a little bit, but watch how you’re swooping, man! You’re gonna sever that guy’s wrist and turn him into pudding as he hits the concrete below! Ha, no, but in all seriousness, this scene was just awesome. Probably the most hardcore Batman has gotten yet when it comes to getting the answers that he wants. Even though the guy passed out before he could actually get them… And then I love how when the cops surround Batman (Gotta note their nonchalant reactions too…like, “Batman, c’mon, man, we’ve talked to you about this!”), he releases the guy by dropping him into a rooftop swimming pool which has gotta be several stories below.

Imagine if his aim was just a little bit off! Batman’s like, “Hey, the sign only said ‘No Diving’.” See, this is why you keep your rooftop pool covered when you’re not using it. Hell, the dude probably shit his pants in that pool out of fear. I would have!

Feat of Clay (Part 1) also brought up the subject of fame, and the repercussions of it, much like how Beware the Gray Ghost did, but we take a much different approach to the character, one that I will be going more in detail with…next time! How will Feat of Clay (Part 2) hold up? I’ll give you a hint: TMS.

Watching this episode with Char and noticing her confusion as Bruce acts so shady was perfect.

I don’t remember their eyes glowing like this when I took the screenshot! Their eyes must have reflected the camera flash...

Lucius Fox debut episode. Don’t know much about him yet, though.

Picture that case as a pizza box.

Matt Hagen movie poster. If only the poor guy realized that he still had the ability to play these parts, even if the public found out about his face.

Him licking his lips here was a little odd.

I think that this might be our first time that we’ve had a villain so established and successful among the public. The corruption of his company doesn’t seem to be common knowledge. Look at his foreboding building!

Ed Asner plays Daggett, an original character to this show. No, I’m not gonna make any “soulless ginger” jokes. What is this, 2012?

There is no way that stuff wouldn’t be all over the conveyor belt.

More satisfying typing noises! Yeah, baby!

The shittiest shots in the episode. Happen as Batman zooms by the camera in the Batwing.

You’ve pissed Batman off if you see this face.

It’s one thing to frame Batman, it’s another to frame Bruce Wayne! And unlike a lot of superheroes, Bruce Wayne is a big enough public figure where it would make total sense for criminals to frame him.

We’ll be seeing more of what kind of monster he’s been turned into next time!

Char’s grade: A

Next time: Feat of Clay (Part 2) Full episode list here!

#batman tas #dcau #dc animated universe #feat of clay #feat of clay part 1 #batman #batman the animated series #clayface

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