Submitted Prompts #160
I was listening to that song "Space is Cool" that a fan made with Markiplier videos (what can I say, the music is really good).
And it reminded me of Danny, who's also so very in love with space.
And now I'm getting a clear mental picture of Danny full-on GUSHING about Space, in a sort of Outside POV thing.
Like, a Danny who's going to Uni in somewhere like Gotham or Star City, and got into the Astronomy club. And their "recruitment video" is just the cute freshman who adores space and will take any chance he gets to gush about it.
There's a lot of shots zoomed in on his pupils doing the cat thing of going from slits to big pools of black (like a black hole at the center of a galaxy) and his freckles start glowing in constellation patterns.
They go on an outing to the nearest Observatory, make it a sleepover thing, and sleepy Danny stretches and howls like a star, flops onto the nearest classmate and Club Member, and starts purring whenever they pet him.
He may be a meta, but they'll be damned if anyone blabbers to Batman about it.
Cue one Conner Kent coming to Gotham to tour their University, to pick where he wants to go when it's his turn next year, and find himself sitting next to Danny when he goes off on a rant about some deep space scans that caught images of Krypton before the explosion.
When asked about his opinion on the Supers, Danny, who's gotten so used to casual affections being directed towards him in the form of head scratches and hugs (they make Danny purr and light up in all kinds of patterns, so the club members do it as often as they can), pats him on the head and quietly praises Superboy for all the important work he does, and how his cloned little sister has always seen him as a mark that being a clone means nothing in the grand scheme of things, and it's who you are that counts.
Conner goes back to his parents in happy tears and with an invitation to attend Gotham U if he so chooses.
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i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.
He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.
And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.
And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.
Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.
Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."
There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.
It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.
Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.
At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.
"Do you like to do anything?"
Nothing. Just silence.
Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.
Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.
Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.
And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.
He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.
Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.
So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.
"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"
"Don't."
He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.
Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"
"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."
It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"
The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."
Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."
And they fall back into silence.
Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."
He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.
(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)
At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.
Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.
("Tucker told me once--")
("Tucker?")
("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")
(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)
(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)
It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."
The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."
The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.
When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.
Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.
"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."
When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.
Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.
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Living with a chronic illness has made me develop a mix of a wistful way of looking at life itself at the same time I have a whimsy feeling about surviving despite of my condition which is something that still makes me look at the world with wonder.
Yes, I do struggle with a lot problems that a lot of people my age don’t, and yes, I have suffered way too much from my illness. But I still have hope. And I still keep going, even when things are hard, despite how difficult it can be to accept the fact that I will have to be dealing with this for the rest of my life. I am well aware of all the challenges of living with a chronic illness when the world is not always welcoming to people who have disabilities. But I’m going to keep going. Despite the pain, despite cruelty, despite the differences that sometimes made me feel isolated.
I’m still fighting. I’m still here. I’m still alive in the face of everything, and it’s very exhausting to keep trying, but I am here. And life itself can be so beautiful even when I’m in pain. Those two things can and do coexist. And surviving so much it’s a statement that my body might be different, but I can be strong in other ways.
So if you’re dealing with a chronic illness, I’m telling you I am so glad you’re in this world and that being different does not make you any less worthy of being here, of taking space, and that you deserve happiness. And that happiness is not something you have to earn by enduring pain and pushing yourself past your breaking point, but because you’re just as human as everyone else, and as equally valuable.
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