Yaâll donât know how much I love de-aged Danny prompts and fics.
The fluff, the cuteness, the absolute squishable potential of a little toddler Danny who allows his new siblings to rub at his cheeks as a form of therapy cause itâs so chubby and soft. đ„č
And when he gives a beaming smile when heâs bombarded by hugs and kisses; or when heâs kicking his little feet as heâs pulled through the sky by the armpits, his sibling rushing through the halls with him â that is magic. That is just đ„° AAAAAAAH
But the potential of ANGST, is also my jam and I will blend this toddler in the slim of sadness while the bat family screams at me in the background like feral coyotes.
Like, bare with me for a second.
Danny Phantom who was captured.
Danny Phantom who was taken apart and put back together again.
Danny Phantom who kept loosing more and more until he was just a tiny little baby version of himself, trying to sustain his own life but knowing that soon he will cease to exist in all its entirety.
Danny Phantom who has been hurt for so long that he dreams. He dreams of a life that could have been, and would have been, had things not become so terrible. And he dreams of people, of friends, of places he isnât even quite sure ever truly existed.
He dreams happily in his own head, unaware of the passage of time and his ever closing in second death, until he wakes up.
His dreams splinter and fade like mist when the sun breaks through the sky.
But there is no comforting warm light for him when he blinks, only a searing, indifferent and blinding white.
Heâs scared, and confused, and damaged in a way that makes him want to throw up but nothing comes out.
He isnât even sure what he does, but heâs not there anymore in the cold white rooms with sharp things and green looming containers. Instead heâs somewhere outside, stumbling on trembling weak legs that heâs certain are too short but he isnât quite sure because his head hurts and he canât really see when everything is spinning and â and â
Thereâs a lot of green and red.
He doesnât think his tummy is supposed to do that.
Is it supposed to be green? Or is it supposed to be red? Was it supposed to be coming out at all? It hurts. It really, really hurts, and he doesnât know what to do when he doesnât even know who he had been.
But he tries to gather it up, pushing the reds and green underneath the cover of his open skin.
Itâs supposed to be in there⊠right?
But itâs not staying. Why wonât it stay?
He sniffles, frustration, exhaustion, hurt, and childish confusion mixing itself so spectacularly that he begins to cry.
And then something big and heavy plops itself on the ground with him.
It was so startling that he hiccups into a stop.
He stares, hands wet and his spilling tummy very heavy, but he doesnât mind it as the very big cat person blinks slowly back at him. Or maybe a bat?
Itâs crouching very slowly, even speaking in soft words. It must be friendly! He didnât know bat-cat people existed, but he liked it very much.
He gives his hands to the bat-cat, presenting his insides for help.
