The Only Posts You Guys Actually Like Are My Writing Posts

The only posts you guys actually like are my writing posts

I see how it is

Using me for your own entertainment

Despite being barely conscious, despite delirium of blood loss and Fear Gas setting in, Danny had made sure to tell the people saving him "No hospitals." He was sure he'd said it several times, one of them had to have been understandable.

So why the fuck was he in a hospital?

Gotham, he knew, was not a safe place. There were warnings to the high heavens and the lowest hells about going there. Transplants, people who moved into Gotham, either died within the first three years or they left within the first year.

He tried his damnedest to stay away from New Jersey as a whole, but he was quickly running out of places to go.

Every other city, every other state, he'd tried to hide was quickly swarmed with G.I.W Agents. He couldn't go to school or get a job or even ask for help because, for all intents and purposes, he was dead. He didn't get a grave, and least not one he could claim as his own despite his name being on the headstone.

New Jersey was the last place within the United States of America he could go. And, well, if he was making a stupid decision, why not go all the way? So, he set course for Gotham with the excuse of "Who's going to notice one more homeless kid in the throngs of all the rest?"

Going out of the country wasn't an option. He had tried a few times, but being legally dead means he has no usable form of ID. Getting caught sneaking across boarders got him deported back. On the bright side, being legally dead means he holds no criminal record. He's a John Doe to the system.

One month and three weeks into his stay in Gotham brought him to the situation he was now in. Scarecrow, Dr. Crane, had gotten out of Arkham Asylum three days ago and had been quiet. It was only a matter of time before he showed up. Unfortunately, he decided to take the mall in New Gotham hostage. The mall that Danny had been seeking shelter from the rain in.

Danny sat in the food court when Scarecrow made himself known and the building was locked down. He'd been a hero for nearly three years, so the instinct to help was strong within him. He did his best and managed to take some of the goons down, only sustaining minor injuries. Then, in a moment of his own weakness, he was hit in the head and a gas mask was strapped to his face.

Head wounds bleed a lot. Fear Gas smells like apple cider and vodka. Don't ask. After that, it gets fuzzy for Danny. He knows that shortly after he went down, Batman showed up. There's a possibility that Robin and Red Robin had been there, too, but he wasn't so sure.

Danny couldn't say how long the gas mask was on his face, nor how long his fight or Batman's fight was. He could tell you that one of the vigilantes, who was definitely Red Robin now that he thinks about it, had been the one to get the mask off of him and carry him out to a waiting ambulance.

"No...no hospitals," he knew he said, "No hospitals." Red Robin's a vigilante, not a hero, but even he knows when to listen to innocents.

"Don't worry," Red Robin had said to him, "They'll help you out at the hospital. They'll get you the cure for the Fear Gas before heading there and you'll be good to go in a few hours to a day."

He's not listening! "No hospitals!" Danny knew his voice was getting quieter, his words slurring. Unconsciousness was creeping up on him, but he couldn't allow it to take him until he knew he was safe! "No hospitals, please." He was not above begging.

He was put down on something soft but stiff. There were people talking. Something about a fear of needles or something? It didn't matter. He'd managed to get his eyes open enough to realize he was in the back of an ambulance. There were two paramedics messing with stuff, getting needles and an IV drip ready. Red Robin and another paramedic were just outside the van.

Again, he tried to say, "No hospitals," but it sounded barely cognisant, even to his own ears.

"Sh," the guy to his left hushed as he placed an oxygen mask over Danny's mouth and nose, "We're going to get you the antidote for the Fear Gas. This is just to make sure you're getting enough oxygen into your lungs,"

No! They're not listening to him! Why do they never listen?

The woman to his right continued explaining, "You're dehydrated and malnourished, so we're going to get you on an IV drip. When he get to the hospital, we'll draw some blood and get a transfusion going for you."

No! No, no, no, no! He wanted to scream at them, at Red Robin, at Batman, and the world. No drawing blood, no tests, no hospitals!

But they hadn't listened. They weren't listening. They never listen!

They're going to find him. He's going to be put in the system and they're going to find him. They're going to find out that he's dead and he's going to be sent away! They're going to find him and they're going to take him away and he's never going to be able to escape again.

Once more, as the darkness crawled over his vision and the noises around him dampened out, he whispered, "No hospitals."

DPxDC Prompt:

The vigilante meant well, taking the kid to the hospital to treat his injuries. The kid mumbled the entire time, barely conscious. "No hospital, please," he said more than once.

Poor kid, the vigilante thought. He must have a phobia of needles or something.

...

They never could have anticipated the danger they put that kid in, placing him in the care of that hospital.

I have a problem.

My Inbox keeps telling me that I've got shit in there. But when I open it, it says there's no messages!

Idk which part is lying. The messages or no messages. Until I get it figured out, I apologize for anything anyone has sent me that has not been seen. It isn't for lack of want, but for lack of ability.

Am I going to use this as an opportunity? Yes.

My discord server will probably be the best place to contact me with requests or questions.

It's called The Tolls Bridge (it's a lie. you don't need to pay to join)

Shameless promotion done. Apologies are never quite done, but I'll call it for now. I'll try and get the inbox figured out asap

I had a thought and now you all have to suffer with me.

I saw a thing for a Danny Phantom ship that said "Is it gay if he's dead?"

And my first reaction, I shit you not, was to say, "No, that's necrophilia-"

I kinda cut myself off there with a gasp. Then I came here to make sure you all suffer with me.

Please, thank you, and you're welcome

"No, he's not!"

"Smash."

"Stop!"

"Why?"

"Because you cannot fix him!"

"Not with that attitude."

"With any attitude!"

Writing Prompt #2668

"He's a monster!"

"He's a hot monster, though."

I hate that 'rendezvous' is spelled the way it is.

It's pronounced 'ron-day-vou' not whatever the hell 'rendezvous' is