#My One (1) thought was just that it'd be funny to call the pits magic floor gatorade

[isaactheautobot]

You gotta love when Danny does freaky horror stuff, explains nothing, and leaves.

#dp/dc week 2022 #the ending is weird because i had no idea what i was doing the entire time i was writing it #it derailed so hard from what i was going for so if it reads awkward that's why but still!!! hjhdgfjsg #my one (1) thought was just that it'd be funny to call the pits magic floor gatorade #yeah the title's from the blob theme song it's just. the song is so catchy. #dp x dc #dpxdc #bongo's writing!!! #danny phantom #danny fenton #reblog

Right through the door (and all around the wall)

DP/DC week prompt: Lazarus Pit

'Bad News: Jason Todd finds a Lazarus Pit in Gotham.  Worse News: There’s something crawling out of it.'

(No content warnings || fic under cut!!)

-

Jason’s felt weird the last few days. Like, weirder than the usual weird that comes with being a living zombie full of Lazarus waters and all their consequences- weird as in something’s up weird. 

It started with some sense of unease, and maybe it was stupid to just put it down to waking up on the wrong side of the bed, but he started his days in a poor mood more often than not anyway, so he thinks it was reasonable enough. But as the week had gone on, he’d felt more and more like he was being tugged around at the chest by something, the Pit running through his veins snapping for something he didn’t know the source of. By the time six days had past, he’d well and truly had enough. Which leads to his current decision: ambling around Gotham trying to follow the feeling. 

Which leads to his current situation: standing face-to-face with a glowing green puddle at the end of a nondescript alley, previously hidden vaguely by a large dumpster.  

Now, Jason isn’t an idiot- in fact, he rather likes to think himself as the opposite of an idiot. And because he isn’t an idiot, he knows he’s looking at a newly-formed Lazarus Pit. There are only so many things that glow that shade of green in this world. But what the Hell is he supposed to do about it? He doesn’t know the first thing about how they’re formed, and he doesn’t know the first thing about how to get rid of them, but the appearance of one in Gotham cannot be good news. It could attract the attention of the League, which is a problem for several reasons, and perhaps more pressing is that its properties could be discovered by the local peanut gallery. The last thing anyone needs is for any of the rogues to figure out they can heal themselves with magic floor gatorade. 

…He should probably tell the Bats. The thought alone pulls a grimace onto his face behind his helmet, but he knows in his heart that it’s the best thing for it. At the very least, the warning that people might start looking a little more green around the edges would be appreciated; the old man would probably go ape if he found out Jason knew about it the whole time and just didn’t say anything. Okay, maybe that makes it more tempting to not tell them- but Dick would be disappointed in him. That man’s disappointed face is universally hard to look at. 

With nothing else for it, he reaches up to the side of his helmet and activates the com link he’d tentatively agreed to stay connected to. All at once, he’s greeted with the sea of idle chatter from the other Bats as they go about their patrols. 

“Hey,” He interrupts, effectively cutting through the conversation. “So, I just found something interesting on my turf.”

“Little Wing!” Dick greets cheerfully, voice carrying over onto Tim’s com. It’s one of those times where Nightwing comes down from Blüdhaven to patrol with the family, then. “What is it?”

He takes a deep breath before speaking, knowing his next words are going to cause something of a stir. “I think we’ve got a Pit forming in Gotham.”

Right on time, everyone on coms starts speaking at once. Dick sputters in surprise, trying to form a response over the declaration; Tim is asking how he can be sure, and for location and size and ‘should we be worrying about Ra’s making a show?’; Damian’s saying something under his breath about all their disastrous communication skills; Barbara’s staying quiet, probably waiting until they’ve finished freaking until she starts up. Batman, though, is evidently not half as patient, shouting over the pandemonium to make himself heard. 

“Hood. Explain.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Uh, that’s pretty much all I’ve got at the moment, old man. Been feeling kinda weird the last few days- felt like I was being pulled about and shit- and when I tried to find the source, I found this bright green puddle. I don’t know what else you want from me.”

“Why didn’t you inform us of the feeling prior to this?”

He’s about to snap back at the man for being pushy when he hears a noise from the end of the alley. Immediately, his gaze snaps back to the Lazarus Puddle, and he blanches when his sees the surface begin to froth. 

“Hood-”

“Shut up, something’s happening.” Red Hood bites, somewhat distracted as the frothing continues, slowly becoming more violent. “Does anyone know if pits can boil over? Because I’m looking at it now and it looks like someone’s left some foul-ass milk on the stove for too long.”

Barbara’s finally voice cuts through the coms. “Nightwing and Red Robin are the closest to your current location- ETA five to seven minutes. Do you need back-up?”

“I have no idea— holy fuck.”

Distantly, he can hear the others asking him what’s up, and Barbara telling Dick and Tim to head over west, but he’s too focused on the way the pit seems to curve upwards, looking less like water and more like a thick sludge. A thick sludge that something is trying to break through. The vague impression of a hand is pushing against the surface. 

His voice is breathy when he finally responds to Nightwing’s cries. “Guys, I think there’s something in there.”

“What?!”

He takes a wary step forward as the hand continues to push, and then a large step back accompanied by a startled yell as the surface finally breaks with a violent splatter. He jumps to avoid the spray, and the hand flails as it searches for purchase against the floor. Surging forward, it discovers solid ground and quickly leverages itself onto it, pushing and pushing until Jason can see the beginnings of a face. 

Dripping with the more concerning equivalent of sewage, there’s black hair with the vaguest implication of white strands against it, a heart-shaped face, and bright, blue-green eyes. Ergo: something that looks almost exactly like him. 

Stumbling further back as they continue to rise, he hears Barbara announce Nightwing and RR’s ETA as one minute from now, and crosses his fingers that they get here sooner, because he’s looking at this kid like a fun-house mirror and he doesn’t like it at all. 

The teenager looks at him from underneath the thick coating of sludge, shaking himself free from the last dredges of the Pit clinging to his shoes. “Hm,” The guy says, tone deceptively casual. “I wasn’t expecting an audience.”

“What the fuck.” Jason chokes, barely grasping at his ability to form words beyond the shock. The teenager searches his face, before looking down at his own figure. 

“Ooh, yikes, give me a second-“ He snorts, before his skin takes on a strange blue tinge and the sludge falls through him, meeting the floor with a wet slap, which- gross. “-There! Sorry about that. Coming out looking like the Blob isn’t the best first impression I’ve ever made, huh?”

Jason is rapidly losing control of both his life and the situation. “What the fuck is- I- who the fuck are you?”

“My name’s Danny.”

“Danny.”

The kid nods. “Yep. It’s Danny.”

“Okay. Danny, can you tell me what the Hell just happened?”

Danny, apparently, blinks, looking back at the Lazarus Pit for a moment before refocusing on Jason. He’s never been more glad his expression is hidden behind the helmet. “Well…” He starts hesitantly, “I… hey- who’re they?”

Jason stupidly whips his head to look behind him, and- sure enough, Nightwing and Red Robin have finally positioned themselves on the rooftops above them- but he hears a splash and when he turns around, the kid is gone, thick ripples casting over the Lazarus Puddle. The two vigilantes jump down from the roof, coming up beside him. Tim looks utterly gobsmacked. 

“Did that kid just jump into the Pit?” He blurts, struggling to choose between looking at Red Hood for an answer and keeping his eye on the puddle in case something happens. 

Jason takes in the situation. He takes in the sight of his brothers, the green sludge smattered across the concrete of the alleyway, the remnants of conversation echoing around his head. He thinks about everything that just happened, and takes a deep, deep breath. 

“This is officially the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” He says, before promptly turning around and walking out of the alley, intent on going to bed and passing this whole thing off as a some kind of trauma-induced nightmare. He knows he’ll have to deal with this at some point, because there’s apparently a Lazarus Pit in Gotham and a whole guy that looked like him crawled out of it, but if he can just pretend that none of that happened for even a few hours, by God, he’s taking it. 

[bongo-clash]

Right through the door (and all around the wall)

DP/DC week prompt: Lazarus Pit

'Bad News: Jason Todd finds a Lazarus Pit in Gotham.  Worse News: There’s something crawling out of it.'

(No content warnings || fic under cut!!)

-

Jason’s felt weird the last few days. Like, weirder than the usual weird that comes with being a living zombie full of Lazarus waters and all their consequences- weird as in something’s up weird. 

It started with some sense of unease, and maybe it was stupid to just put it down to waking up on the wrong side of the bed, but he started his days in a poor mood more often than not anyway, so he thinks it was reasonable enough. But as the week had gone on, he’d felt more and more like he was being tugged around at the chest by something, the Pit running through his veins snapping for something he didn’t know the source of. By the time six days had past, he’d well and truly had enough. Which leads to his current decision: ambling around Gotham trying to follow the feeling. 

Which leads to his current situation: standing face-to-face with a glowing green puddle at the end of a nondescript alley, previously hidden vaguely by a large dumpster.  

Now, Jason isn’t an idiot- in fact, he rather likes to think himself as the opposite of an idiot. And because he isn’t an idiot, he knows he’s looking at a newly-formed Lazarus Pit. There are only so many things that glow that shade of green in this world. But what the Hell is he supposed to do about it? He doesn’t know the first thing about how they’re formed, and he doesn’t know the first thing about how to get rid of them, but the appearance of one in Gotham cannot be good news. It could attract the attention of the League, which is a problem for several reasons, and perhaps more pressing is that its properties could be discovered by the local peanut gallery. The last thing anyone needs is for any of the rogues to figure out they can heal themselves with magic floor gatorade. 

…He should probably tell the Bats. The thought alone pulls a grimace onto his face behind his helmet, but he knows in his heart that it’s the best thing for it. At the very least, the warning that people might start looking a little more green around the edges would be appreciated; the old man would probably go ape if he found out Jason knew about it the whole time and just didn’t say anything. Okay, maybe that makes it more tempting to not tell them- but Dick would be disappointed in him. That man’s disappointed face is universally hard to look at. 

With nothing else for it, he reaches up to the side of his helmet and activates the com link he’d tentatively agreed to stay connected to. All at once, he’s greeted with the sea of idle chatter from the other Bats as they go about their patrols. 

“Hey,” He interrupts, effectively cutting through the conversation. “So, I just found something interesting on my turf.”

“Little Wing!” Dick greets cheerfully, voice carrying over onto Tim’s com. It’s one of those times where Nightwing comes down from Blüdhaven to patrol with the family, then. “What is it?”

He takes a deep breath before speaking, knowing his next words are going to cause something of a stir. “I think we’ve got a Pit forming in Gotham.”

Right on time, everyone on coms starts speaking at once. Dick sputters in surprise, trying to form a response over the declaration; Tim is asking how he can be sure, and for location and size and ‘should we be worrying about Ra’s making a show?’; Damian’s saying something under his breath about all their disastrous communication skills; Barbara’s staying quiet, probably waiting until they’ve finished freaking until she starts up. Batman, though, is evidently not half as patient, shouting over the pandemonium to make himself heard. 

“Hood. Explain.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Uh, that’s pretty much all I’ve got at the moment, old man. Been feeling kinda weird the last few days- felt like I was being pulled about and shit- and when I tried to find the source, I found this bright green puddle. I don’t know what else you want from me.”

“Why didn’t you inform us of the feeling prior to this?”

He’s about to snap back at the man for being pushy when he hears a noise from the end of the alley. Immediately, his gaze snaps back to the Lazarus Puddle, and he blanches when his sees the surface begin to froth. 

“Hood-”

“Shut up, something’s happening.” Red Hood bites, somewhat distracted as the frothing continues, slowly becoming more violent. “Does anyone know if pits can boil over? Because I’m looking at it now and it looks like someone’s left some foul-ass milk on the stove for too long.”

Barbara’s finally voice cuts through the coms. “Nightwing and Red Robin are the closest to your current location- ETA five to seven minutes. Do you need back-up?”

“I have no idea— holy fuck.”

Distantly, he can hear the others asking him what’s up, and Barbara telling Dick and Tim to head over west, but he’s too focused on the way the pit seems to curve upwards, looking less like water and more like a thick sludge. A thick sludge that something is trying to break through. The vague impression of a hand is pushing against the surface. 

His voice is breathy when he finally responds to Nightwing’s cries. “Guys, I think there’s something in there.”

“What?!”

He takes a wary step forward as the hand continues to push, and then a large step back accompanied by a startled yell as the surface finally breaks with a violent splatter. He jumps to avoid the spray, and the hand flails as it searches for purchase against the floor. Surging forward, it discovers solid ground and quickly leverages itself onto it, pushing and pushing until Jason can see the beginnings of a face. 

Dripping with the more concerning equivalent of sewage, there’s black hair with the vaguest implication of white strands against it, a heart-shaped face, and bright, blue-green eyes. Ergo: something that looks almost exactly like him. 

Stumbling further back as they continue to rise, he hears Barbara announce Nightwing and RR’s ETA as one minute from now, and crosses his fingers that they get here sooner, because he’s looking at this kid like a fun-house mirror and he doesn’t like it at all. 

The teenager looks at him from underneath the thick coating of sludge, shaking himself free from the last dredges of the Pit clinging to his shoes. “Hm,” The guy says, tone deceptively casual. “I wasn’t expecting an audience.”

“What the fuck.” Jason chokes, barely grasping at his ability to form words beyond the shock. The teenager searches his face, before looking down at his own figure. 

“Ooh, yikes, give me a second-“ He snorts, before his skin takes on a strange blue tinge and the sludge falls through him, meeting the floor with a wet slap, which- gross. “-There! Sorry about that. Coming out looking like the Blob isn’t the best first impression I’ve ever made, huh?”

Jason is rapidly losing control of both his life and the situation. “What the fuck is- I- who the fuck are you?”

“My name’s Danny.”

“Danny.”

The kid nods. “Yep. It’s Danny.”

“Okay. Danny, can you tell me what the Hell just happened?”

Danny, apparently, blinks, looking back at the Lazarus Pit for a moment before refocusing on Jason. He’s never been more glad his expression is hidden behind the helmet. “Well…” He starts hesitantly, “I… hey- who’re they?”

Jason stupidly whips his head to look behind him, and- sure enough, Nightwing and Red Robin have finally positioned themselves on the rooftops above them- but he hears a splash and when he turns around, the kid is gone, thick ripples casting over the Lazarus Puddle. The two vigilantes jump down from the roof, coming up beside him. Tim looks utterly gobsmacked. 

“Did that kid just jump into the Pit?” He blurts, struggling to choose between looking at Red Hood for an answer and keeping his eye on the puddle in case something happens. 

Jason takes in the situation. He takes in the sight of his brothers, the green sludge smattered across the concrete of the alleyway, the remnants of conversation echoing around his head. He thinks about everything that just happened, and takes a deep, deep breath. 

“This is officially the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” He says, before promptly turning around and walking out of the alley, intent on going to bed and passing this whole thing off as a some kind of trauma-induced nightmare. He knows he’ll have to deal with this at some point, because there’s apparently a Lazarus Pit in Gotham and a whole guy that looked like him crawled out of it, but if he can just pretend that none of that happened for even a few hours, by God, he’s taking it.