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Danny: the Adoption TimeBomb

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Part 1:

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Here’s the incredibly belated Part 2!

Y’all should never have given me attention, oml I’m incorrigible.

I’m going to do everything they told us not to in those internet safety assemblies, here’s to over sharing on the internet instead of going to therapy (that was a joke, I’m definitely in therapy, because obviously I need it, plz go to therapy if you have the resources y’all, or don’t, I’m just a first time fanfiction writing stranger screaming into the void of the internet), and no one can stop me. 🤷

My autistic ass (not making fun of autistic peeps, that would be quite hypocritical considering) is currently writing fanfiction, painting my kitchen magenta, and emotionally preparing myself for my dad’s memorial/celebration of life later this week.

While I should be applying for jobs, getting all my bureaucratic shit together for next semester, and doing the dishes.

It’s neurodivergent self care time bitches.

Preface:

I’m trying my best with characterization & individual voices.

I don’t typically write dialogue and action and I’ve definitely never done so with characters I didn’t create, like ever. So here’s to trying new things.

I would genuinely appreciate any constructive criticism as long as it’s respectful. Plz and thank you.

Also I didn’t proofread. Whatcha gonna do about it? 🤷 That was true, before I had to change the formatting for legibility.

Let me know if anything is confusing. I know the perspectives are a bit fucky. Since changing the format I stand by the perspectives, and they were really fun to write; let me know…if they’re…as much fun to read.

I did a mix of first and third perspective, and the narrator doesn’t know much, if anything, more than the reader.

Also? Unreliable narrator? That’s for you to decide. The style of the narrator transitions with the thought pattern/voice of the narrated.

And definitely still let me know if it’s hard to understand anywhere. Thank you!

Expect a part 3 later this week. I’m going to drop an ao3 link on part 3 too.

That will be my first post on ao3, yay to participation after years of just lurking.

Soooooo, thanks for reading if ya got this far…that’s pretty cash-money of you. 😅

I won’t leave y’all on a cliffhanger…I guess that one is kinda literal oops my Rick Riordan might be showing…for long.

And we’ll learn how they got into this situation in part 3 too.

This is probably considered a tad angsty? But as someone with PTSD, I think pretty much anything that includes that many characters with PTSD would include a certain allotted amount of angst.(Hope y’all don’t mind little alliteration, it’s my favorite.)

I’m more than likely going to do alternate endings/storylines. Scratch that, I’ll definitely be doing multiple storylines (probably just 2).

Because I want a haha jokey funny one.

But also? I’m having a difficult time so what else should I do but project onto my comfort characters? 👀

Sorry for the long author’s note, 😭into the fic:

***indented= inner thoughts

***inner thoughts are italicized if they’re between dialogue or communicated by narrator

***the rest is narration/dialogue

This could theoretically be called consciousness. Danny can almost understand the muffled voices, but his brain is heavy and lagging like when he collapsed from exhaustion after a 96 hour ghost fighting binger, fueled by enough caffeine to kill him for good and spite.

But I got all my English assignments turned in that week. So alls fair that ends well? Alls well that ends war?

He decides to table that for a later date when the first feeling coming back isn’t a terrible throbbing between his ears so violent it feels like it’s producing heat.

It might be.

Danny is still pretty fuzzy on halfa anatomy.

The voices get a bit clearer and he recognizes the feeling of smothering under a small mountain of blankets.

It’s terrible, the heat is electric in his body. It’s pain running from scalp to sole and he can’t do it again. He’s NOT going to die by lightening again. NO SIREE

Out out out off no

Not going down that route.

Danny almost feels ready to face whatever the fuck he’s gotten himself into when a hand clamps onto his wrist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jason, we can’t just give Danny a shot of adrenaline to him up! We don’t even know if his body processes it like ours…AND you’re not supposed to stress an already stressed immune system.” Tim pinches the bridge of his nose and doesn’t take his eyes off Danny as he paces back and forth.

“Whatever Replacement,” Jason puts himself directly in path, Tim giving an emphatic “oomph,” as he thumps directly into a solid wall.

My form freezes like my blood has been introduced to Mr. Freeze’s special brew liquid nitrogen, like this could slow the inevitable descent into Pit madness. As my eyes meet Jason’s.

Very very green ones. Glowing one could say, and not the nice like way, the pregnant or skin hydrated crops watered kind. Lurid green pulses on and off.

Hands land heavy on my shoulders and I know can’t brush past him, but I might be able to go under his arms if I get a good distraction. The hallway is only 40 steps away weaving through the shelves for any way to slow him down.

I know everyone is home, hovering near, busying themselves cozying the drawing room where we hold family game night. Nesting like their namesake. Bruce should be in the cave, but that’s too much risk. Getting cornered in an elevator is 0/10 would not recommend.

I might just make it out of this alive.

The pit simmers, but doesn’t devour, consume. And it’s strangely not directed toward Tim…-Replacement. Replacement.

He’s still as a statue and it’s a bit amusing until guilt licks up my spine. I try to alleviate the tension by brushing past it, Danny needs us, no walking down pit rage memory lane.

Deeply frowning as Replacement flinches hard at the nonviolent physical contact that was supposed to reassure him I wasn’t going to add to his repertoire of scars. My stomach heavy as I see my handiwork peaking out from under his collar.

I grunt, angry that I’m thinking about his feelings at all, that I just keep fucking everything up, and the only person who doesn’t tiptoe on eggshells around me goes into fight or flight every time I move too fast.

And give what I hope is a reassuring squeeze before moving my hands slowly away, taking a step back.

“Jason,” it comes out much quieter than I’d prefer. And definitely not sounding like I’m 10 seconds from bawling.

Replacement crouches slightly and I huff, because dramatic much? I thought I was supposed to be the theatre kid. Unless Tim is hiding a duffel bag full of heads somewhere, it’s my title to claim. He already has the sleepless record.

“Replacement,—“ and he’s gone, halfway across the room toward the door before I even say more than his name. I grit my teeth and stand still to give him a moment to calm down.

I throw my head back for just a second even though I know better, waste of precious time. I don’t know why he let me go, but better not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I looked the gift horse in the mouth.

His eyes are still flashing and he looks irritated but not the mindless berserker, I pause. Mistake big mistake. He moves faster than I thought possible and the ground kisses me kindly with carpet burn.

Can’t believe I’m going to die by clumsiness. What a way to go. Poor Danny.

Danny!

I look over to Danny, Jason hunched over him like a gargoyle, the reflection of his eyes making Danny look more sickly than I thought possible. Sure he’s a meta or an alien, leaning more toward alien at this point, so we don’t know exactly what his healthy is…but that’s not the point!

I don’t remember getting up but I’m at Danny’s side and we’ve come full circle as I tense all the muscles of my body because Jason is growling.

Honest to god growling like a rabid dog. And I’ve pushed my emergency button, cursing myself for not thinking of it sooner.

“Jason, I know you don’t want to hurt Danny. You were doing a good job fighting the pit to maybe not kill me. Just keep doing that.”

I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t know what I’m saying.

Where’s backup?! House full of birds and bats and someone can still get the drop on us?!

His head doesn’t even turn, but his hands are slowly crawling closer towards Danny’s neck and Tim is just out of reach.

Too far away

Jason throws a knife without turning his head, hitting somewhere on the thigh.

He can’t feel the pain yet, but the blood itches as it trails down, and the knife makes a big thump into the carpet.

Alfred is not going to be happy.

This effectively stops any physical intervention. So Tim does what he does best.

Something in my chest aches.

Something is wrong with Danny.

A litany of hurt hurt hurt pain scared help please not again not dying, no more dying running so loud through my head I can’t think.

I need to help. I hear Danny. Help help save help scared, but he’s not speaking to me.

I can’t tell what’s wrong until he whines. I need to help. He thrashes weakly at the blankets.

Hearts don’t buzz. That’s a problem for future Jason.

I knew they went overkill, but his cold hands in the summer heat made Bruce look like he was going to wicked witch of the west melt into the carpet.

Sentimental dumbass, wish he had the same energy-not going to go there.

Danny is supposed to be cold. He’s always been cold.

I carefully pull the blankets down. Wrong move now and the whole mansion and possibly surrounding city blocks will pay for it. I just know.

“Jason! I really don’t know what you want with the latest adoption bait when your favorite punching bag is right here.

Why don’t you come finish what you started huh? Too chicken? Still want to win daddy’s favor?”

Too far, I know I went overboard before I see the words finish coming out of my mouth. Since when was it so fucking cold? I thought we turned up the heat?

Aaaaaaaand, I’m down for the count. Hey, I tried my best.

I’m readying myself for my fate, but blinking open my eyes doesn’t help me make any more sense of the situation.

Other than flicking his eyes to his peripherals to bury a knife hopefully just shy of my femoral artery, Jason doesn’t react. He just keeps doing doing whatever he’s doing at the pace of a geriatric snail.

And how about that, the green must be receding if I can see him flick his eyes.

Or it may just be something astronomically worse. In this family, with my luck, that seems much more likely.

“I know you hate me,” I don’t know where I’m going with this, “but Danny hasn’t even been legally adopted yet, cut him some slack. The papers are still warm off the printer.”

ffffffffffuck FUCK fuck fuck

I forgot how much getting stabbed fucking sucks, as I carefully apply pressure around the knife without jostling it and just hope for the best.

Something is happening with Danny, ice is spreads quickly out, in spindly fingers across the carpet. Creating a beautiful mandala.

“You don’t have to do this Jason.”

And if it hadn’t beforehand, that’s really when all hell breaks loose.

There’s a terrible noise, loud enough to drown out their loud heartbeats, with an underlayer of breaking glass. The walls bleed green and it sounds like every wall in the mansion was teeming with angry bees.

So I’m not dying. That’s cool, I love it when I do that. Not die, that is. Been there, half done that.

But something is very wrong and I can’t put my finger on it. I almost drift back into sleep.

But I caaaaaaaan’t be comfortable. Like that’s supposed to be really really bad. Isn’t it?

Am I in the Far Frozen? Did I get hit by a truck? Or did Skulker get a new weapons upgrade?

Why is everything so so much?

Really bad? What’s really bad again? I know I’ve forgotten something really important, but it’s so good and cold, I just can’t for the halfa life of me remember what it is. Fat lotta good that does me.

Sam said I’m not supposed to use that idiom. It feeds into diet culture and fat shaming. And I deeeeefinitely don’t want to do that.

Like I know I can’t get help at a normal doctor’s, but they act like people just living in bigger bodies are just as foreign.

“Master Jason! Master Tim! Exactly what in the hell is going on here?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~—————————————————————~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, that’s it then.

Alfred is cursing so we’re dead. And I’m bleeding on the carpet. I don’t want to make him clean any more than he already does.

This is a world ending event and Bruce had better dust off his contingency’s contingencies. We’re well and truly fucked.

Alfred’s presence fills the room. He’s never needed a megaphone or sharp object to do so, just his voice and auspicious eyebrows.

Something is wrong. I don’t want to disappoint Alfred, he’s the only good part of this fucked up family.

I did something wrong. Oh my head, I’ve been blown up with less pain than this.

Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Am I dying? Again?

The sound of running feet, slamming doors, and the swish of the elevator panel converges into a dizzying funnel of pain.

No one quite knows what’s going on.

Green ooze flies around the room, gathering—coming to rest on, in, and— around the two most dead people in the room, like a Great Dane sitting on a waterbed.

I knew I shouldn’t have left Danny. I knew I should’ve had this intervention sooner. I was just so afraid of scaring him off. I know what everyone thinks about Batman and metas.

Hell, I actively encourage it.

But with Signal, I thought the kids and anyone refraining from trouble would know they’re safe here.

I just don’t want Superman, the Flash, or worse, Green Lantern bumbling around Gotham.

I’m surprised he came back at all. It took a good week to see hide or hair of him, but I know he was here out of sight.

I am always failing these kids. I can’t get anything right.

They deserve so much better.

But even if it isn’t me, better’s Alfred.

The elevator dings.

Would it have been faster to take the stairs? Am I going to find another child dead in my care?

Am I going to be 10 seconds too late?

I’m not losing another one. I’m not letting Jason down again.

I can’t, I can’t, I won’t.

Lazarus green green green

I’ve almost reached them. I’m not-

“Bruce Thomas Wayne,” he didn’t have to yell. Merely raised his voice to be heard over the cacophony.

“That is Enough.”

Really the dramatics are unnecessary. Sometimes I could swear that I raised a traveling theatre troop rather than a house full of respectable, if more than a bit reckless, young men.

“Now then,” Alfred straightens his vest and walks forward despite the universal noises of protest across the room.

Dutifully ignoring the ice and paying no mind to the amassed flitting cooing manner of creatures conglomerating in the middle of the room, he makes his way to his two troublemakers.

He stops just short of them, fully surveying the scene.

Master Jason is knelt over, clutching his head, resting it on the side of the settee Master Danny resides on.

The animals are,—cooing, trilling, purring, and worrying their way into hair, clothing, and perhaps person, in other words—from all appearances, trying to offer comfort and solace.

“Master Bruce you will assist Master Damian and Master Stephany in getting Master Tim to the infirmary downstairs.”

“Alfred-“

“Quickly now, if you would. You have the most first aide knowledge aside from myself, do you not? As I’m sure you can tell, that knife wound looks a proper fright, it is fairly shallow and well placed.

Off you pop.”

“Y-yes Alfred.”

“Well placed?! Jason stabbed me!”

“Yes Master Tim, you did an excellent job keeping him, shall we say occupied. Consider him stalled.

He did, and fortunately for you, he did an excellent job of it too. He doesn’t do much anything by halves.”

The bastards snorted. Snorted! Talk about kicking me while I’m down. Why the hell do I visit? Stephanie is in for it big time.

I glare at Cass, whose eyes are filled with mirth. She doesn’t even have to laugh, I can feel it from here.

The next step was instructing them on correct patient transportation procedures. But Master Bruce in his particularly frazzled state, crossed the room trancelike, passing especially slowly by the green encompassed sofa, and scooped Master Tim off the floor in one fluid motion.

He gave an indignant squawk, uncouthly opening and closing his mouth.

I simply held my tongue, but caught the tail end of his wrathful staring match with Master Stephanie, before the group disappeared through the doorway, as the razing began.

Now with the most impulsive group put aside, they could begin to disentangle this mystery. Bruce got his interest in detective work from somewhere after all. And it wasn’t solely the Gray Ghost.

“Masters Cassandra and Duke, I require your particular expertise.”

As if on cue, Danny whimpers and Jason flinches, hard.

Danny shrinks small and tiptoes the same way Superman does if you know what to look for. He hasn’t interacted much with me.

With any of us really.

Aside surface level humor.

But especially me. He sees me. He sees me seeing him and it scares him. To the core.

Even though he has been staying at the manor for nearly one year quarter. He distrusts.

We are less evil…er

Danny flinches at loud noises, eyes always tracking the exits when he thinks no one is looking. He stiffens at or shirks touch, even when Dick gives him the baby dog eyes.

He is a coiled wire. Taut as guitar string Stephanie overtuned and sliced her cheek.

Danny eats a lot, fast, and guilty. He is hungry. He was always so careful as he danced around Bruce’s attention.

Too graceful. Too quiet, too light. Easy to lift, but only moves when he leans into impact. He pauses.

He thinks about normal people strength.

Superman-strong

His eyes shine like Titus.

And terrified behind smiles. He hides least around Duke. He jokes to keep away attention.

He has good heart. He is afraid of himself.

“On it Alfred.

I’ll see if I can turn back the clock, so to speak.

S-sorry, I joke when I’m nervous. And I talk too much, now I’m rambling.

And those…things are-are…they’re blinding. It’s distracting. I—“

“Quite alright Master Duke. This is a trying situation for us all.

Let us ascertain the exact nature of the situation and if they are in any emergent danger.”

“Yes, that’s the plan. Thanks Alfred. What do you think Cass?”

“Jason protect. Danny good for him. Less anger.

The green is good.”

It’s very frustrating to have everything come out wrong. Changed. Different.

Mouths slander, but bodies don’t lie.

“Master Duke, do you require anything of us to utilize your natural ability?”

Alfred keeps moving forward, treading carefully over the crawling crackling ice and toward the epicenter of all this chaos.

“Just some quiet, if you could keep your voices down that would help. Thank you Alfred.”

It’s hard to focus with the enormous mass of transparent possibly sentient goo flying around everywhere.

A lot more of it…them? than everyone else can see, are flying around invisibly.

Danny is a special case. He doesn’t seem like a meta. He’s not magic, but not quite not not magic.

Danny almost seems trapped between two worlds. In the right place at the right time, if I get the correct angle he shimmers like a mirage.

I lean one way and he’s different, lean the other and he’s back.

It’s tricky to look into the past, but not nearly as difficult as sifting to find the most probable future.

This one is different though. It’s stuck. The past is very close but unreachable, feels like trying to turn a rusted fire water pump.

I’m getting frustrated.

I know I’m much more than my mega gene. It’s othering. I always feel set aside.

Batman doesn’t get along famously with metas, no matter what he says. Bruce thinks they’re cocky and trigger happy.

So. When my powers are specifically called upon and they don’t work out like they’re supposed to, it’s…a lot. Heavy.

I feel Cass’ hand on my shoulder. She squeezes three times, her nonverbal ‘I love you, you got this.’ I know she sees my thanks.

It took a while after I moved in to get used to her communication, but I’m thankful I put in the work. She’s the best of us.

I open my eyes. Let’s try this again, sometimes it just takes a lighter more consistent push.

At first I think I might’ve finally lost it, too much family drama and I’ll have to check back in later. ‘Cause I’m checked out.

But then I see Jason, Danny, and Tim are moving. Just infinitesimally slowly. This is new. New in this exact instance, is probably not good.

He wipes his palms on the pants he borrowed from Dick 2 months ago when he forgot to do laundry and subsequently forgot to return. Duke is warmed by thankfulness that he’s not also stuck in ultra slow motion.

He feels more than sees a presence approaching.

All the hairs on my body raise and my teeth chatter with the force of my cold chill. I suddenly know that the last thing I should do is turn around.

A slight hysterical bubble of laughter finds its way past Duke’s lips as he acknowledges that he is, indeed, every dumb character in a horror movie.

And that’s a bit petrifying, most bats have trained out their nervous laughter reactions, because…helloOo…Joker + traumatized emotionally constipated bats = no thanks

I should’ve caught it, I have been dozed one times too many by—an I-don’t-go-to-therapy-because-I’m-a-big-manly-man-and-no-that-isn’t-anything-like-silent-Bob-Batman—Jason having a trauma response.

Yes trauma response, not just “what can I say? I’m just a silly goofy guy.”

What I should’ve said was, Yikes, quoting TikToks Jason? That’s a lowbrow low blow move, even for you.

But I’m merely postponing the inevitable. Here goes.

In and hold and out. Just like Batman taught me.

One.

Two.

Three.

Turn!

It’s…nothing.

This has very literally never happened before.

Inky depth darkness laps up to the small piece of carpeted floor, still supporting Duke’s weight, now free floating in this seemingly eternal abyss.

I know that’s not me manipulating the shadows.

In front, at an indeterminable distance, I see the darkness shift into something much softer. A small light coming closer.

And I’m just hoping I survive to tell the tale. Because. Wow.

I will definitely be winning story week. No one will be able to beat this one at vigilante trivia.

It wasn’t there and now it…they? Are.

Gossamer strings of light reach out from a central mass, as if lazily swimming against a current.

The center of this vast creature shifts in and out, inward and outward, almost like it’s mimicking breathing, or a heartbeat…poorly.

It looks like a biological Hoberman sphere, the color of a white oil slick. Completely alien, ethereal, entrancing, and…slimy.

Small dark veinlike tendrils reach out, looking for something.

Probably me.

The only possible thing within sight.

I feel like this is the part in the movie where I should piss my pants or try to run.

But neither of those seem like particularly productive options.

“So, cool. Beautiful eldritchean horror, you got a name? Do you even communicate verbally?” I touch my chin like some off brand Sherlock Holmes, “Hmmmm, what are the odds you’d know English.”

That last part was much more to myself than the something? Someone? In front of me.

While I can never claim to be half as talented as Cass, I can discern most simple emotions with my sight. They have barely discernible texture.

Like the pavement on a hot summer day.

I see…humor? It has the same look as a kid blowing straw bubbles in their soda. No deception.

Despite the reassurance of the most definitely impossible-to-be-misinterpreted social cues of a godlike alien entity, Duke somehow doesn’t feel very assured. His heart presses against his molars and he can feel- no, practically hear, his blood pressure rising.

So he—that was incredibly presumptuous of me, just slapping human social constructs onto the face of a currently unknowable being; I just copy pasted human social constructs on this god? that a lot of us don’t even want touching us, gross—she?, xe?, they probably do understand, but maybe can’t interact well?

“I haven’t heard that one before, and coming from someone like me that is significant,” xir ultrafine filaments dance in silent laughter.

Their tone is bright and jocose.

“I see why Danny likes you,” you can hear xir smile.

While Duke can’t know know, that the deity’s promise of safety rings true, he feels his body calm.

And while his fight or flight reflexes have gone to null, he knows something is wrong.

That wasn’t him.

The words reverberate through my bones. Quite literally. It feels like my brain is doing the Macarena. And my field of vision vibrates, reminding me of that time in the interactive museum where they show you how sound wave affects sand.

It doesn’t hurt like it should, to be that loud, but wow.

Ouch all the same

What is anyone supposed to do if confronted with this sheer enormity? Duke could be demolished by a careless sneeze…if the thing sneezes-whatever, whatever.

The point is…the point is, this guy, this-this metaphorical-gender-neutral dude could have spread the atoms assembling everything that makes Duke, Duke a quintillion times over. But they didn’t.

And based on the comment xe made about time, probably put Humpty Dumpty back together again hundred times infinite more. Xe wants something from me.

“Okay cool. So you know Danny. Um, why? Sorry sorry, let me rephrase.

Do you know how to help him right now?”

He gesticulates at increasing frequency and emphasis, the longer he’s allowed to speak uninterrupted, “Because him and Jason have something weird going on and there are these green things…just everywhere.”

Duke pauses recollects himself, and continues with more control, “And no one understands what the fuck is going on.”

I finish with the single “fuck” -word I didn’t want to give in the entirety of my existence. Which, is hopefully not ending for that.

His arms appear to pose the question to the very void surrounding them.

“Sorry, sorry, we’re all just really concerned for our family.” I’m not sorry.

I try to at least look contrite for the being that could end me with a flutter of their lashes.

And not convey the increasing annoyance I feel at xir strange vagueness.

They just feel almost…almost smug.

“Quite alright,” there’s a sudden movement all around them. It appears more like an updraft pushing their thin tendrils and large mass closer to Duke, instead of xem moving under their own volition.

The booming is more of a croon, or what I can only guess is their equivalent.

It feels more like sitting between 2 cars blaring their music with the base turned all the way up, instead of sitting in the bell tower of Notre Dame…

Which, sad and all, oh no!!! history, but like? Still.

Eat the rich.

Maybe, just maybe excluding Bruce,…buuuuut he did 100% purposefully steal my sandwich—don’t believe his lies—so thin ice.

“I see you like to work with time,” their tone manages to sound both approving and questioning simultaneously.

“If you’d like to learn from a professional, I could put in a good word,” at that, the humor-texture increases tenfold. Duke is unsure how to interpret that last part, but he doesn’t sense any malice.

“When he wakes up, ask him about Kronos. And, give them some time to breathe before questioning them too too much.”

I’m getting worried for my physical well being at this point, and hell, maybe my spiritual one as well? The creature is within grabbing distance.

“Danny deserves the benefit of the doubt. After all, he’s saved this timeline on more than one stubborn occasion.”

At this juncture, the strange feather like appendages brush against Duke’s arms, they don’t feel like much of anything.

“This is your stop Duke,” unbothered and bemused as always.

Xe makes physical contact for the first time. It doesn’t feel much like anything, maybe just a cold wind.

Aaaaaaaand now they’re touching me. Ickhhhh, touching me, touching me, touching me

It doesn’t hurt, and I know, I just know they’re not making actual physical contact with my skin, but I feel something all the same.

Like millions of soft prickling feet along my…what? My spirit? Doesn’t matter, the soul spiders are taking up the majority of my existential crisis attention.

I try to play that make yourself look bigger, don’t look afraid card, but I instinctually step back.

Mistake. Biiiiiiiiiiiig mistake

O’ Icarus’ folly. Instant regret. Hindsight.

It was at that point Duke knew, he had truly gone and fucked up.

I should still be in the library! Viewing the past isn’t living it! Isn’t leaving!!!

So why am I falling Alice in Wonderland, rabbit hole style?!

Limbs akimbo back toward destination unknown, heart as falsely relaxed as ever.

The creature is further and further away; I know it’s looking at me despite the distinct lack of eyes.

I barely catch the last message, it makes that funny train horn sound effect, like when the vibrations causing the sounds are traveling away from you.

“All…should…be.”

Did I just-…Did I just meet god???

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somewhere a small neon yellow post-it note flutters daintily to the ground. It reads, Everything is how it’s supposed to be.

It catches the sight of a particular bat, and leaves them to their question stew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~—————————————————————

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P.S. Please subscribe to the post if you want updates, I don’t mind to tag ppl rn because I have the spoons to do so, but that won’t always be the case.

I also just learned how to subscribe to posts this week. 😅🥲

On mobile you click on comments & it’s a little bell in the top right corner.

On computer(?PC???website? I’m sorry, I’m technologically illiterate😭) its: I absolutely don’t remember, but hopefully someone in the comments does.

Let me know what y’all think!

I’m planning on doing more writing prompts sometime soon and I might take some suggestions on storyline from the comments, maybe requests. Idk 👁️👄👁️

P.S.S. Also???? Why did I have to hold tumblr at plastic butter-knife-point to edit the format?

left me crying, laying on the floor like a scrambled egg

P.S.S.S. I tried my damndest with Cass’ & Duke’s characterization (diction, attitude, etc.) but alas, I haven’t read any of the comics. I’ve read about them, but not them.

So I hope they came through alright. I made Cass’ speech kinda stilted because…well her backstory, you’re here, you know it. I tried to do so respectfully, please inform me if I haven’t. I’m happy to take it down, edit,& put it back up.

I’m less familiar with Duke…he’s probably very OOC. If y’all have any pointers, I’m here for them.

Also, I don’t care if Alfred is a bit OOC, that man is a force of nature, and no one can tell me anything to the contrary.

#batfam #danny fenton #dp x dc #bruce wayne #dp x dc prompt #danny phantom #dc #batman #dp #Alfred is the real brains behind this operation #this is the most significant piece of writing I’ve ever published on the internet so don’t rip me a new one plz and thx 💀#hope y’all like not first not third but funky perspectives #Bruce Wayne himbo #I might’ve done a little oopsie angst #plz forgive me I promise I won’t put our lil babies through much more suffering #😭 why am I like this #actively procrastinating #why is Danny here the world may never know