#this app is so broken | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stellaralignment · 3 months

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After reading @kira-serialfaggot 's post about inaccessible menus and @butterfly-sapphire post about non-customizable menus figured I now had sufficient excuse to rant about how I hate how every big restaurant's ""solution"" to these two problems is somehow always the worst fucking app I've ever had to use in my life.

So, to clarify real quick. I agree with both previous posts. Places that serve food should have their menu easily accessible somewhere if they have an online presence, and places that let you customize your order need to have that as a feature of any digital ordering solution they implement. Good? Good.

So, a lot of places I've seen (Wendys, Taco Bell, and McDonald to name a few) Have tried to get around how fucking horrible the DD app itself is by making their own apps with DD integration for the actual ordering/serving of delivery orders. Great, this lets them provide their own menu customization options, serve discounts/coupons, and generally have more control over the user experience. Fantastic. As a bonus, this usually also allows you to just look at the menu whenever you want.

Small issue. All of these apps were written by the worst fucking programmers I have ever witnessed in my life. I havn't gotten angry enough to de-compile or try to reverse engineer one yet, but my user experience has been so consistently bad and I've encountered issues that, as a software engineer, I honestly could not tell you how fucked their system has to be in order to allow that to happen.

Allow me to tell you the worst of these. I'm trying to order delivery from a store. It's late, like 7pm, but I know the place is open till 10. I can confirm this on their website (I do later for reasons that will become apparent) and google maps. So I punch in my address, make my order, and go to checkout. Unfortunately, the app tells me "Your payment method failed. Please select a new method and try again". Which was odd, but not unimaginable. I've had issues with my bank in the past. So I swap cards and try again, thinking nothing of it.

Except, my other card doesn't work either. Nor does using PayPal, or Google Pay, or any of the other payment options I tried. I'm getting desperate. I buy some games on steam just to make sure some of these are working, which they are. I was worried, but now that I've confirmed all my money hasn't been siphoned away somehow, I'm just confused and getting annoyed.

So I start going insane. I buy digital gift cards from several different sites and try using them. No dice, payment failed. I try using the website instead of the app, on my phone and PC. Payment failed. I boot up an android studio instance with a brand new virtual phone, install the app on it, and try to order. Again. Payment failed.

I'm starting to wonder if their servers are just completely down. A friend in a different state can order with no problems. A friend in the same town can order with no fanfare.

But my roommates can't. They have the same issue

Payment failed.

So. I'm going insane. I've now spent almost 3 hours attempting to order food, and I'm starving. It is at this point that my anger finally overcomes my social anxiety, and I do the one thing I never thought I'd do.

I call the store in question.

Now, in all of this there was one crucial mistake I made. See, that friend in the same town? Lived on the other side of town. And there's 2 different stores of this franchise in town. We didn't control for this, because the app doesn't let you pick a store anyways when doing delivery. It's hard locked to whatever one is closest, which isn't a terrible thing to do. You need to get the delivery address anyways, and you know where all your store are, so it cuts out a step for me. But having to choose a store might've clued us in to what was going wrong.

Because the store? Was closed. Not just closed, like mega closed. It was being shut down. It hadn't been open for two weeks, and would never be open again. The order was failing because they'd already taken all the computer systems out, and it couldn't confirm to have received the order.

So there was nothing wrong with the payment. Literally nothing I could have done about this. I am just barred completely from ordering because the app defaults to the nearest location for orders, and my nearest location didn't exist anymore.

And you'd think that there would be some way to communicate this to the user when making the app. But for reasons I can only assume are profit motivated (Though I have no idea how the fuck this is more efficient/profitable), the app just defaults to saying the payment failed.

Now, I wouldn't be this mad if this was just "oops edge case lol" where I suffered the unfortunate consequences of some procrastinator forgetting to do the thing that removes stores from the database. Unfortunate but not really anyone I can blame for it. But no. This is just the most extreme example, and it's not even confined to the one app.

Almost every single app like this I've used defaults to saying the payment failed and to try a new payment method when anything goes wrong. No drivers out on DoorDash to actually move the order? Payment failed. You're trying to order a seasonal item that got dropped today? Payment failed. The companies servers actually are down? Payment failed. You're not connected to wi-fi like an idiot and there's actually something you can do to fix the issue that's not related to payment whatsoever? Payment failed.

What the fuck is up with this lazy ass programming? I seriously doubt there's enough technical debt from these apps to justify not having a robust error catching system that communicates with the user what the issue is. By the fucking stars these people love collecting intrusive data, I'm surprised they havn't used this as an excuse to harvest everyone's fucking location at all times and send "error data" back to central.

But just don't tell me my debit card was declined when I'm trying to order a burger and you closed that store two weeks ago.

#journal #rant #i fucking hate food delivery apps #but i'm a poor bitch with no car #and I lived for 3 months off of a BOGO burger coupon once that just never fucking removed itself from my cart even after I ordered #so I continued to cash in on that one coupon for an entire semester #so like don't fix your apps #but don't tell me my fucking bank is broken when you just can't be bothered to update your fuckin store database

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jackdaw-and-hattrick · 1 year

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Slipping

Ao3

Damien was not proud to say that, when he first heard the noise, he had been baffled at what it could be. It was beautiful, strung together and structured with all the planned grace of his favorite sword. It was not until the women started singing that he realized that what he had been listening to was music. Sure, he understood in theory what music was, had been taught the word and understood the basic principles that governed it, but he was an assassin. There was no reason for him to need music, and so like all superfluous things Damien had simply never been exposed to it. Nor had he ever sought it out. Still, he found himself being drawn forward

Before him was a stage much like those he’d seen in photos of old theater houses, the bright overhead lights casting a down in strange colors with no name. At the center of the stage was a woman. She wore odd clothing resembling a superhero costume, though without any identifiable armor, and her face was painted with swirls of black that differed from any makeup he’d ever seen. She had the look of anyone of this realm. Her skin was mottled and hair burned a phosphorus blue, eyes glowing like the Lazarus pits. Damien did not recognize the instrument in her hands, but the sound it made was… enchanting. From his place in the empty audience, Damien found himself swaying ever so slightly.

“Little boy

Why are you here?

So far from the world you hold dear

Oh kid

Quite your spying

Don’t you know you are dying?

Does your mother know

You’re playing with ghosts?

Does your father see

Your liminality?”

“So you finally got a new song?”

A soft hand hand lands on his shoulder and Damien starts. He doesn’t remember the last time someone snuck up on him like that. He looks at the person who so rudely interrupted the performance. Phantom stares at the woman on the stage with something resembling anger.

“What? You like it Babypop?”

“That’s KING Babypop to you, Ember.”

The woman, Ember, laughs. Phantom’s grip tightens and Damien hears a low growl radiating from his chest. He glances down, the worry radiating from him like heat from the noon day sun.

“Hey,” Phantom says, “you wandered off. Everything good?”

Damien stiffens; it suddenly occurred to him he may in fact have done something wrong by leaving on his own without any sort of warning to follow the ephemeral melody.

“Yes. I was merely listening to the music. She is very good, I’ve never heard anything so lovely.”

“Don’t tell her that, she’ll never let me hear the end of it.” Phantom grinned. He glanced back to Ember, clearly calculating what to say next. “Do you want to keep listening?”

Damien nodded mutely. Ember took this as her cue to begin playing again. Phantom took him by the hands and began guiding him closer to the stage.

“Do you know how to dance?”

“No”

“Would you like to learn?”

“I can’t see what possible purpose it could have.”

“Absolutely none.” He said, pulling Damien around so that they where face to face, “here, stand on my feet”

“Will that not hurt?”

“I’m a lot sturdier than I look.”

Damien followed his instructions and Phantom guided him through the basic steps of what he would later learn was called a waltz. They stayed like that, stepping and spinning to the melody for the better part of the day. Occasionally Ember would switch up the tempo, and Phantom would have to show him new steps, until finally he stepped back and began dancing on his own.

“Come on,” he encouraged, “Don’t worry about the form, just follow the melody, same as before.”

“I am not yet ready.”

Phantom smile, a sort of boundless sorrow hidden just beneath the surface.

“No one ever is.”

…………………………..…………………………..………………

To say Dick Greyson was nervous would be the understatement of the century. If asked why, Dick would probably be hard pressed to explain why the thought of meeting his second brother’s new partner was as absolutely nerve wracking as it was, although he was fairly sure it had something to do with the fact B seemed to be dead set on treating this as an interrogation. Not even the standard well meaning but ultimately misled, “explain everything about yourself and if I get so much as a hint you’re not good for him they’ll never find the body”, type interrogation. No, an actual, criminal interrogation. To be fair, given he was dating Jayling, the odds were Danny was involved in at least some sort of criminal activity, but that was to be expected. Probably not a great way of thinking for a cop, but so long as he kept out of Bludhaven; not his monkeys, not his circus.

Really, it wasn’t that Dick didn’t understand why B was acting this way. Danny was, after all, an unknown, something Dick knew his adopted father couldn’t abide in much the same way he couldn’t abide sunlight and injustice. If they could just find something, anything that told them this guy had a life prior to coming to Gotham than maybe he would feel less like a threat. As it was, even Dick had to admit he was antsy. Still, he had to respect the skill with which Danny had so far avoided their questions. He could see what Little wing saw in this guy.

That was it really. Jay bird saw something in this guy and for all his anxiety and suspicion, Dick still respected that. If anything, this proved to make him more nervous. Jas was flighty. Getting him to agree to do anything with the family was an uphill battle of mammoth proportions generally only achieved by the likes of Alfred, but he had agreed to bring Danny to dinner so they could meet him. Moreover, he had agreed to come to the manor specifically. Dick couldn’t remember the last time he’d come here without actively bleeding out. Dick wasn’t so self centered to think Jayjay was coming back just for little old him. This was because they had been harassing Danny and he wanted it to stop. Of course, if it had just been that they would have just met on a rooftop, so Jay must honestly want Danny to meet his family and see his childhood home, and wasn’t that terrifying. It felt as if Dick were walking on egg shells, knowing a single wrong step could be the end of whatever faith he had put in them.

There was another, deeper fear that they would, somehow, scare Danny away entirely. They weren’t exactly the easiest people to deal with, long term. Jas deserved people; to feel loved and wanted in a way he understood and reciprocated. He would never forgive them if they took that away from them. Moreover, Dick would never forgive himself. It boiled his blood that B was willing to put all of that at risk to calm his fears.

This is why, when the knock finally came, Dick found himself quite literally tripping over himself trying to get to the door. Luckily, his training kept him from landing all that hard, and with a quick forward motion he rolled himself back to his feet. By this time Alfie had, of course somehow beaten him to the door despite definitely being in the kitchen mere moments ago. There in the door frame, standing next to his wonderful baby bird, who looked about ready to punch someone, was the man Dick knew must be Danny. It occurred to him suddenly that he had never seen him up close before, given that all cameras seemed to be unable to get a good image of him. Besides his obvious adoption bait traits (Dick was probably going to have to have a TALK with B later), he looked… well… he looked odd, but not in a way that immediately made sense. He was thin, sure, upsettingly so and it took all the self control bestowed by his Robin training not to pick him up and take him straight to the dining room, but his skeletal frame wasn’t it, not exactly. There was something to him, to the sharpness of his teeth when he smiled, the fluid bend of his limbs and neck as if unimpeded by joints or bones, the absolute depth of his eyes and the silence of his steps that seemed terribly wrong and absolutely familiar. He reminded him of Dami.

See, Dick Greyson was a lot of things; an acrobat; ex-boy wonder, current detective-extraordinaire; eldest daughter syndrome poster boy; and easily the hottest Wayne; but for all his acting, he was not an idiot. He may not be a genius on the level of, say, Tim, and he still didn't get how Cass did her whole “definitely not mind-reading” bit, but he had experience. He was bright in his own right, and he knew his family, maybe better than they knew themselves. When Dami first came to the manor, back when they were strangers and his threats meant something, he’d been… feral. Dams was still feral, but he’d improved; he’d become more human, less… whatever else he was that led him to hiss and bite and scratch with claws too sharp to be human. Whatever made the air around him so oppressive when he was angry or frightened. At first, Dick had assumed he was a meta of some kind, but a quick genetic panel (and what a thought that the idea of running and reading a genetic analysis had become so straightforward he could probably do it in his sleep) had shown that, besides the honesty concerning levels of Lazarus water in his system, there was nothing which he could see that would make him anything but a standard human. He’d asked Dami before, but he’d only said he was “the son of Batman and heir of Al Ghul, of course his steps were silent and his movements fluid,” completely ignoring the rest of his concerns. Dick hadn’t pushed. It wasn’t his place. As long as he was safe and happy, Dami could keep whatever weird-kid secrets he pleased. Then Danny hugged him, and Dick wondered if maybe this was his concern after all.

The dining room they moved into was not the private one usually used for these dinners but the great one reserved for parties. Dick rolled his eyes. Of course, B would insist on this room. Intimidation was key, apparently. Dick wondered when precisely the others were planning on arriving. Being late was not unusual in this family, much to Alfred’s eternal displeasure, but keeping Jayling and B from going for each other’s throats was becoming increasingly difficult. Having more people wouldn’t necessarily help, but it would spread out the attention. Dick wished B would kindly take a hint and back off. He didn't like something in the way Danny and Jay were acting. It felt too familiar. Too much like the way he acted when trying to keep his siblings from learning something he knew would inevitably hurt them; the dodging, misdirecting, and a look of absolute fear he had suppressed almost every day for the last ten-odd years. They knew something, and whatever it was, Dick was willing to bet his last box of cereal it was about Dami. So when he asked how exactly Jas and Danny had met, it had less to do with his own genuine curiosity and more to do with changing the subject right now.

“Ancients,” Danny started, “I’m pretty sure the first time we met was… the auto shop?”

…………………………..…………………………..………………

It was pitch black out when Jason arrived at the shop. He’d heard about it in the usual way, words whispered in dark corners amongst people with downturned eyes and who spoke in quiet voices. The building itself was unassuming, located at the very edge of Crime Alley where the city began to fall away. The worn bricks were painted with graffiti; strange and winding shapes of no recognizable language or culture. Jason couldn't help but feel that if he just stared long enough, he could read the messages left there facing the street. There was a neon green sign above the door. It read,

“ Vehicles, appliances, and more!

You break it, I can fix it!”

Something about the color reminded him unavoidably of a certain toxic pit. Jason did his best to shake that off. He needed to be here. See, the word on the street was that the sign didn’t pull any punches, that the Mechanic, as he’d come to be known, really could fix anything you could break, be it mechanical, medical, mental, or even spiritual. His next-door neighbor, Synthia, claimed he’d helped her with her “ghost problem,” fixed her stove, and saved her house plants to boot. The man on the corner selling samosas said he’d ended his nightmares, which he’d had every night for the past thirty years. One lady even claimed he cured her cancer. All of the stories had two things in common. One, there was a young man they called the Mechanic with dark hair and blue eyes. In Gotham, that wasn't exactly much to go off of, given the city’s disproportionate number of people fitting that description. The second bit was more interesting. People said that the Mechanic used a kind of barter system. You could pay cash for most things, but if you either couldn't afford it or the service was particularly unusual, he’d ask for other things. Favors, mostly, sometimes stories or promises. Even trinkets, if that was all you could afford. The general consensus seemed to be that he preferred things with strong emotional connections. Folks seemed split on whether this guy was an angel or the devil.

Even the building itself was suspicious. For all the wear and tear apparent, he had it on good authority it hadn’t existed until about three months ago. There was no paperwork for the lot, no signs of an owner, and no records for the business itself. Hell, the place didn't even show up on Google Maps. The whole deal screamed illegality. So, a building that didn’t exist, a business with no name, and an owner who was apparently a miracle man. It had been a pain in the ass to find the place. Jason didn't know how he had gotten lost in this town where he’d lived almost all of his life.

There were no hours on the door, but when he turned the knob he found it unlocked. The door creaked loudly.

“Huh, guess he can’t fix everything after all.”

“Maybe I just like it that way.”

Jason started. Maybe he was getting rusty because he had been absolutely sure the room was empty. That or the man in front of him could just walk more quietly than any Bat besides maybe Cass. He certainly fit the description of the Mechanic, however vague it may be. Messy black hair, silver-blue moon eyes. He was... Beautiful. Etherial. He looked like the kind of guy people wrote poems about. When he walked, he moved with the grace of a dancer. He didn't look like a mechanic, but his skin and clothes were stained with motor oil.

“Long time no see,” the man smiled.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Guess not,” he said. His voice was comforting, like the sound of old cartoons playing in the next room on a rainy day. The guy could make a killing as an ASMR YouTuber. “What can I do for you?”

“I,” Jason knew his story, but part of him was struggling with the feeling that he was betraying an old friend, “I wreaked my bike.”

“Ok, I can fix that.”

“What’s your price?”

“For you? Hmm...” He tapped his chin with a long clawlike nail. Jason couldn’t imagine how he kept his nails so long while working with machines. “How ‘bout... Lunch.”

“Lunch?”

“I don't have to stay around or anything, just drop off some food when you come back for your bike and we’ll call it even.”

“You realize we’re talking about a good $750 repair job at least, right? We’re not just talking about an oil change.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

“I live in Crime Alley, pretty sure that means I already owe you my life.” the man’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling, “Or well, whatever it is I’m doing”

Jason snorted.

“Trust me, you don’t owe me shit.”

“Don't I get a say in that?”

“Alright, fine, be indebted if you want. Free bike repair for me. What do you want to eat?”

“As long as it’s dead by the time it gets here, I couldn't care less.”

“That’ll make two of us.”

“Three.”

The man’s eyes flashed a familiar green, and Jason braced himself for an attack but none came. Looking at him, Jason saw none of the anger he associated with that color. If anything, he looked... Sad.

“Who are you?”

“The name’s Phantom, but most folks here know me as Danny Nightengale.”

“What? Your real name say a bad word?”

“Guess you could say that.”

Jason left after that, but he came back the next day. He brought empanadas, which they ate together on the sidewalk just outside. The work on the bike was a masterpiece, especially given the time it took. Jason came back again later. And again. And again.

“My fridge’s busted and won't stop making ice.”

“There’s a mole in my gang and I’m not sure who it is.”

“My helmet broke.”

“I got shot.”

“My head hurts.”

“My heart hurts.”

His reply was always the same.

“Ok, I can fix that.”

The next time Jason came to the shop (he still didn't know the name) it was sunset, he was covered in blood, both his and not, and all he could see was green. Tear tracks cut through the red. He threw his helmet to the wayside where it sent a precarious stack of papers flying.

“Hey, Hood. Long time no see.”

Danny looked how he always did. If he noticed the blood, he didn’t show it.

“What can I do for you?”

“Please,” Jason begged, “It’s the Pits, I...”

He fell to his knees, body shaking from the force of silent sobs.

“...I just want to be ok.”

Danny dropped down next to him, cupped his face so gently as if he might just break, and did his best to wipe away his tears, with the corner of his sleeve. Jason cried harder. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone has held him so carfully. Had they ever?

“Ok”

Then Danny plunged his hand into Jason’s chest. He froze, the cold sensation of clawed hands grasping at his very soul shocking him to his core. It was unlike anything he’d felt before, and as quickly as it started it was over. Danny pulled back. Grasped in his hands was a writhing black mass, like earthworms fat from eating their kin. Then he opened his mouth, much wider than any human ever could, and Jason watched in horror as he ate it whole and struggling. Then Danny cupped his hands together, a strange green liquid that looked horribly like the Lazarus Pits, if a bit brighter and not bubbling angrily the way they should, filling them. He plunged his hands and the liquid back into Jason’s chest, though this time he could only feel a vague tingling chill.

“What the Hell?”

Jason wasn’t sure how else to react to what he had just seen.

“This,” Danny said, indicating with a nod to his hands, still very much in Jason’s chest cavity, “is pure ectoplasm. It should help clear out the last of the corruption. Think of it like dialysis; I clear out the bad stuff and replace it with something clean.”

“What corruption?”

“The corrupted ectoplasm in your system? I’m pretty sure that was clouding your head and messing with your emotions.”

“You... Got rid of the Pits. You... Ate them.”

Jason wasn’t sure how to process this.

“I guess? A rose by any name and all that.”

He withdrew his hands. Suddenly Jason felt very empty. Emotionally, he was drained, and he was pretty sure he was still in shock from what had just happened, but more than that, Jason’s head was uncharacteristically quiet. There was no rush of blood, no bubbling murmur corrupting his thoughts, no green tinting the corners of his vision. It was just... Him. A cool rag touched his face. At some point, Danny must have stood up and gotten a damp washcloth to clean the blood. When had that happened? Golden sunlight streamed in from the glass door, casting soft shadows and making a moon of Danny’s face, his pale skin glowing in the reflection of the setting sun.

“Who are you?”

“Danny Phantom, remember? You know me.”

“No,” Jason paused, “I mean, what are you?”

“What are you?”

Jason wasn’t sure how to answer that. A dead kid with daddy issues and a gun fixation? A ghost of Robins’ past? A zombie? A fucking mess? Suddenly, a blinding light haloed Danny, spreading from his middle and passing over him. When his vision finally cleared, he saw Danny, greyed skin and vibrant green eyes haloed by glowing white hair which floated as if unbound by gravity. He looked like an angel. Something untouchably beautiful and impossibly holy. He smiled, and his teeth were as long and sharp as a deep sea predator.

“I’m a halfa.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Honestly? Not much. It's sorta a slang term for someone who's both alive and dead.”

“How does that work?”

“Well sometimes I’ve got one foot in the grave, and sometimes I’ve got the other foot outta it.”

“Is that what I am?”

“Not quite. As far as I can tell, you’re a revenant.”

“And here I thought I was just a plain old zombie.”

“Oh trust me, if you were a zombie, you’d know.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“It's kinda my job.”

“I wasn’t aware a working knowledge of the undead was a requirement for mechanics.”

“What can I say? I’m just good at what I do.”

“Speaking of which,” Jason said, “any idea what I owe you for literally giving me back my sanity?”

“Ancients... I don’t know.”

“I’ve got an idea... How about...”

They both paused, Danny halting what he was doing to listen to what Jason had to say, the rag in his hand now thoroughly saturated with blood, harsh red against snow white. Jason wasn’t sure what it said about him that he found the sight of his blood on his hands so attractive, but damn. Before he had time to think about it, Jason peeled his sweat-soaked leather gloves from his fingers and took those ivory hands in his. God, they were cold. It was like holding ice. If he kissed him, would his lips freeze to his skin? Would they ever come apart, or would they stay connected forever? Jason was starting to suspect he might be a little hysterical from shock and exhaustion.

“My heart.”

“...What?”

“You gave me my head, let me give you my heart.”

Danny opened and shut his mouth, gaping like a fish seemingly at a loss for words.

“You don't have to do that.”

“No,” Jason said, “no I don't. Hell, the truth is I’m ripping you off if you accept, ‘cause I’d just be paying you something that's already yours.”

“Ok,” Danny nodded.

“Deal?”

“Yeah, deal.”

It wasn’t clear who moved first, but the two met in a kiss. Sharp teeth knicked Jason’s lips, soothed by cool saliva. Danny’s hands, so frail looking, gripped his wrists as unyielding as iron cord. Overhead, the electric light flared, popped, and burned out. The sun had long since set, and the only light was Danny’s otherworldly glow. They sat there for a long time, neither speaking. Finally, they got up and together stepped into the rest of their afterlives.

…………………………..…………………………..………………

“Oh,” Dick asked, “you work in an auto shop?”

“Well, sorta,” Danny shrugged, “It's my shop. I’ll fix up just about anything, but yeah, I get a lot of cars and bikes.”

“Babe, calling what you do “repairs” is like calling Supes a pencil sharpener.”

Danny waved his hand dismissively.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

By then, Alfred had served the salad course, making the rest of the siblings officially late. Danny eyed the salad, a rose vinaigrette with summer greens, as if expecting it to bite. Dick couldn’t help feeling personally offended on behalf of Alfie’s cooking. Finally, after poking it a couple of times with his fork, Danny seemed to decide it was in fact edible and began eating with the speed and ferocity of someone starving. Watching him, Dick couldn’t help but feel deeply uncomfortable as Danny unhinged his jaw and consumed the salad without chewing. There was something almost… predatory in it. Looking closely, he swore his tongue was split.

To his left, B watched with wrapped attention, his eyes steely and stern, building fear and distrust building behind his standard mask of stoicism. On his right, Damien seemed utterly unaffected. If anything, he seemed almost cheerful, listening to Danny talk about his job, his school work, and all the dull details which come with any life. He had a pet dog named Cujo; his older sister had just started her own psychology practice—tiny details which did nothing to explain the bone-deep discomfort permeating the air. Danny, for his part, was animated. He spoke with an effervescent energy that felt almost unreal. Jayjay sat back, occasionally throwing in a smart comment with no bite but mostly seeming content to watch. It was nice seeing his brash and bullheaded brother so comfortable. The usual anger which seemed so ever-present was absent. Dick didn't know how to cope with that. Danny was disturbing. Still, he made his beloved brothers so happy, and the contradiction ate him alive.

Throughout the meal, siblings began to filter in. Duke was the first to arrive, followed by Steph, Cass, Barbra, and finally, Tim. Each would introduce themself, take their seat, and find themselves slowly introduced to the madness that was Danny’s existence. He had this odd habit of saying the most baffling, concerning things Dick had heard in his life. Honestly, that alone was an achievement to be proud of. He watched as his siblings shared glances, seemingly trying to figure out whether this guy was for real. Duke, in particular, was staring Dick dead in the eye as if daring him to stand up and yell, “Sike!”. The only exception seemed to be Cass, who, much like Damien and Jason, was apparently unaffected, even cheerful. It seemed like the most screwed-up members of the family were the ones most comfortable with this strange man, and it was starting to paint a harrowing picture. Dick had to ask himself, what made them different? What set those three apart from the rest of them? He thought he might know the answer, and he hoped to God he was wrong.

After all, if he was right, what would it mean that this guy seemed like catnip for the previously deceased?

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#danny phantom #the batman #dp x dc #dc x dp #Underland #jason todd #dead on main #damien wayne #I put this off so long #I am so sorry #hopefully it was worth the wait #my app is still broken and I can only post in color

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