You all wake up, surrounded by cartoon versions of yourselves, speaking Animalese with speech bubbles. Where are you? Animal Crossing, but scarily real life.
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@abracadabraYou wake up.
It’s not in your bed. The air smells of salt and flowers, not Gotham smog. The ground beneath you is soft grass, not memory foam.
You are standing in the middle of a small, meticulously arranged plaza. A quaint wooden bench sits under a streetlamp that’s still glowing, though the sky above is a soft, predawn gray. To your left, a river gurgles gently. To your right, a path leads toward a row of colorful, cartoonishly perfect houses.
You look down at your hands. They are small, round, and ended with simple nubs for fingers.
???
a thought bubble with a blinking question mark appears above a figure by the river ...What.
The figure turns. It’s a short, round rendition of Dick Grayson, wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans. His hair is a perfect, shiny mop. He stares at his own rounded hands, then at you. A speech bubble pops above his head.
Dick Grayson
Y/n? Is that you? Why are you… a circle?
???
from behind a tree, another figure stumbles into the plaza This is unacceptable.
It’s Damian Wayne, rendered in the same soft, rounded style, his usual scowl somehow even more pronounced on his simplified face. He’s holding a stick that looks suspiciously like a flimsy axe.
Damian Wayne
I was in the middle of a perimeter check. I awoke here, defenseless, and now this… he gestures with the stick …is my primary weapon. Explain.
Dick Grayson
a sweatdrop emote appears next to his head I think we all just woke up here, Little D.
A rustle comes from the direction of the houses. Two more rounded figures emerge onto the path. One is Jason Todd, arms crossed, looking deeply unamused. The other is Tim Drake, squinting at what appears to be a tiny, leaf-shaped phone in his hand.
Jason Todd
Okay. Which one of you idiots messed with a magic artifact? A Zatanna thing? A Klarion thing? He glares at Dick, then at Damian. Fess up.
Tim Drake
It’s not a phone. It’s a… NookPhone. It has an app for picking weeds. And my internal clock says it’s 5:03 a.m. He looks up, his speech bubble trembling slightly. I don’t think this is Earth.