#Danny's going through shit with ghost puberty

[somnoir]

As a prompt Danny after he enters Gotham for any suddenly starts growing again for the first time since the portal incident and his body instead of slowly again decides to catch up all the missing years of growing at once so Danny goes from still looking 14 to suddenly having his father's height and looking his actual age.

Growing pains.... Literally

Since his death, Danny hasn't really... Grown. His parents think he's a late bloomer, that he'll grow later in life. But it's been four years since he's died and he hasn't grown a single inch in that time.

Frostbite is kind enough to tell me that... Well... He's stuck.

He's stuck in this form until something affects his physical form. Amity, even though it's considered the most haunted place in earth, doesn't have enough ambient ectoplasm for Danny. There are too many ghosts from the realm that feed of it, too many nevermores that need it to exist. Amity feeds it's ghosts but it doesn't have enough for a halfa like him.

When he moved to Gotham for the aerospace program (plus the scholarship) he doesn't expect much from it. People still question him about his age, it almost ends with him flinging his ID and birth certificate on people and cussing them out on his height.

He had even started exploring the city. There was this one cafe he found and the owner, Lily, was an absolute angel! With a shotgun. And he met a lot of people in Lily's Eden Cafe, like this weird kid that apparently dropped out of high school. Now, Danny ain't one to judge, so he's pretty okay with Tim. Except for the fact that he was so cool and smooth on a skateboard. Danny wanted one too.

Almost a week after moving, he's suffering. His body hurts, everything aches. It's as if something inside of him was trying to break out and it's making his bones strain. Everything about it hurts.

Many days passed of Danny being delirious from the pain, barely able to register what he was doing. A week and it's like he spent a coma walking around while his consciousness was asleep, practically dead by the lack of his memories.

The next time he woke up, it's been a week since he blacked out from the pain.

There's music in the background, almost familiar. The beat is something he heard Ember compose before his eighteenth birthday, then it was practically blasted through our the Ghost Zone when the day actually came.

"Shhh! Turn that racket down!"

"Hell nah! He likes it, see?"

"The little king seems.... To......change... Gotham..."

His eyes snapped open, gasping when he saw multiple pairs of eyes looking down at him.

"He's alive!"

Danny's instincts took over in that second and he's sending a blast of ecto towards the sudden scream. More screaming. Too much screaming. His head hurt.

"Holy shit, baby pop!"

He takes a moment before he's recognizing Ember... And the hole on his wall... And his glowing hand. Shit.

"Woah, woah! Calm down."

In Danny's confused state, he could barely register Kitty and Johnny in the room. Oh, and Shadow too. But still...

"I— What happened?" He groaned, blinking slowly. "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

His voice... OH MY GOD HIS VOICE! Why was it so deep?! What was wrong with his voice? Did he have a cold or something? Or maybe it's just his morning voice—

"Congrats on your dawning!" Johnny congratulated, grinning like a madman.

"What?" ooh, that was weird, "What the heck is an dawning?"

"Ooh, baby pop!" Ember cooed, "Forgot that our little king is still pretty new to being all ghost. C'mon now, baby. Mama Ember will teach you all about ghost puberty."

"GHOST WHAT?!"

Ghost puberty was a thing apparently. He had hauled himself into the Far Frozen after yelling at the four ghosts to steal him some clothes that would actually fit him. Because his entire body felt wrong... So wrong.

He was taller now. Having shot up from 5'4" to a whopping 6'2". Everything still hurt and now all his clothes didn't even fit! Nothing looked right when he'd looked at the mirror. He was almost as tall a shis dad now—he looked almost exactly like his dad now actually. It was almost terrifying how much he resembled his dad. If he went to visit now, he's sure that his mother would have a heart attack from how quickly he had grown.

"Frostbite!" Danny practically growled and oooh... Yeah, now it sounded differently to whenever he'd end up snarling. The deepness of his voice almost intimidated him.

"Great one!" The yeti greeted, looking utterly ecstatic to see him. "Ah, I see you've finished your dawning. I offer my sincerest congrats, your majesty."

"Yeah, yeah. The fuck is a Dawning?"

Frostbite blinked, before his expression morphed into a grim one. "Oh dear... I had thought that the Observants would have deigned to explain this too you upon your coronation... Well, let us sit then, great one. This will be a long one."

To summarize it all, Ghost puberty.

A Dawning was a time every ghost went through, so long as there was enough ambient ectoplasm around them to help their forms morph into their preferred appearances. Usually, a ghosts appearance to their own mentality. Their maturity.

Apparently, Young Blood already went through a Dawning but remained in his child-like form due to his own mental age. He was a child in heart, mind, soul, and body.

Meanwhile... Danny who was still alive yet also dead, had followed on with his mental maturity. His body morphed, it changed, it adapted to how he saw himself, how he desperately wanted to become deep down in his core.

And this Danny Fenton was a 6'2" giant trying to control all his limbs that were suddenly too long, too heavy. Everything felt strange....

Tim Drake's favorite cafe was known for being neutral ground for both rogues and vigilantes. You don't fuck around Lilian's cafe or else she'll pull out a rifle and shoot you dead. So if course, Tim fucking loved the place.

Actually, many people frequented it.

He's familiarised himself with the faces of a lot of people by then. Even that scrawny new kid that arrived three weeks ago. Tim remembers Danny for how enthusiastic he was about going to collage, not even minding the madness of Gotham itself. It was like he thrived in it.

He waves at Lilian after ordering his usual, taking a seat in the corner before he's whipping out his laptop. Duke and Steph arrive soon after, immediately ordering before going off to join Tim.

Mundane things, something they all seemed to appreciate more.

The bell rings, more customers arrive and—

"Danny! Holy hell, what happened?"

Tim paused, immediately snapping his eyes towards— WHAT THE FUCK?!

Steph whistled, "Hot damn..."

Danny Fenton was a scrawny young man, shorter than Tim. Even more slim.

But whoever the hell entered the cafe was 6'2", almost as muscled as Jason, and slouching like Clark—as if he was in the wrong body. He almost dropped his drink if not for Duke gently guiding his hand down.

"Hey, Lils..."

God, what the fuck was that? What was happening? Who the hell was this awkward adonis with a voice as deep as the fucking ocean?

"Tim?" Duke waved his hand over his eyes, "Timothy? Timbers?"

"Duke, leave him alone. He's gone, never coming back." Steph snickered, shaking her head before her eyes went back to Danny, who was stuttering as he tried to order what he wanted. "But damn if I wouldn't act the same. Shoot your shot—"

Shoot his fucking shot he did.

"Hey Danny..." Tim slid up to him with a smile.

Danny blinked—woah was he tall and practically built like a fucking fridge—before his eyes brightened and a smile joined his expression.

"Hi Tim!"

Was this how Bruce felt like when he saw Clark?

Masterpost

[bloggerspam]

A Christmas Carol AU

Inspired by a prompt found in the @haunting-heroes-creative-games :) (i.e. back on my shit again)

When a 15 year old Jason, pissed at Bruce for taking Robin away from him, finds his birth certificate he realizes Catherine Todd is not his real mother.

Just as he resolves to go out and search for his birth mother, Jason finds himself accosted by three ghosts in his room, talking about A Christmas Carol of all things.

===

"So, what? We're gonna Christmas Carol him?"

Dan scoffs, crossing his bulky arms with an unimpressed look. "We hated that movie."

"I didn't." Dani chirps, disturbingly cheery, "I didn't see it!"

"We hate Christmas," Danny corrects, "But the movie was alright, and the logic is sound."

"I don't hate Christmas," Dani once again interjects cheerily, "I've never participated!"

"Sound my ass," Dan growls over her, throwing his hands up. "We don't even know this guy!"

"Minor detail." Danny insists, "Tuck can look him up."

"He's a fucking Bat, Danny." Dan scrunches up his face, pinching the bridge of his nose just like Vlad does when he's disgruntled with any of Dad's shenanigans.

"He's a Robin, actually." Dani pipes in, "And he's just a kid. How hard is it gonna be to pretend to be this kid's Ghosts?"

"You're a kid," Dan reminds her, crossing his arms, "And you didn't believe me when I told you sticking a fork in the outlet would shock you."

"I believed you," Dani sniffs haughtily, crossing her arms and pointing her nose up with a snooty voice, "The warning simply did not deter me from doing it anyway."

"We don't have to convince him we're his Ghosts, or even that we knew him before," Danny reasons, needling, "We just have to convince him that we're…"

He hums, pointing at Dani. "Past."

He points at himself, "Present."

He points at Dan, "Future."

Dani does a little cheer, arms up and twirling into the air before landing with her legs over Dan's shoulders, hands and head settling atop Dan's fiery, but harmless, hair. It flickers, before going limp into long white strands that Dani messes up by gently scrunching up the strands and running her fingers through them.

Dan lets her, huffing and looking weirdly like a downtrodden, wet cat. "Why am I future?"

"Because." Danny doesn't continue, because he knows it makes Dan annoyed. True to form, his scowl gets worse, like sucking on a lemon. They all know why anyway.

Dani grins, triumphant and knowing, letting her voice go real deep, "The future," she intones into Dan's hair, "is here."

"The future is now," Danny corrects her, but doesn't lose his smile, floating up to tuck a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

"The future is already here," Dan mumbles his correction, or is it a follow-up? "It's just not evenly distributed."

"How about you distribute some of those muscles, Gibson," Danny sighs, shaking his head "Waiting for puberty is such a drag, and we both know you didn't get the mass from Vlad's side of the family."

Dan makes a moue of disgust, but it serves him right. The consequences of his own actions, and whatnot. He looks up at Dani, who simply shrugs. "I think you'll do great." She leans down to give him two pats on the arm.

"So how's acting out A Christmas Carol gonna help us stop this Jason guy from blowing up?" Dani fiddles with Dan's hair, tongue poking out as she attempts a braid, "Will he even see us? Ghosts in this dimension taste funny."

"He'll be able to see us, it's magically rich enough for some ghosts to maintain a semblance of themselves," Danny explains for the third time. Dani and Dan hum at different pitches, and even though Danny is the common denominator he kind of hates that Vlad has more of a lasting impression on them. "The ectoplasm here is scarce and mostly corrupted, though, so it's rare."

"So there's lotsa bad ghosts here?" Dani eyes the messy braid she's made, proud, even as Dan's silky hair immediately causes it to fall apart, "Or 'mentally unsound' or whatever Frostbite called it."

"No," Dan grumbles, annoyed and indulging all at once, "Corruption begets ecto-rot, but the scarcity means they're not strong enough to actually retain their sense of self enough to rot."

"Shades," Danny explains when Dani looks even more confused, "There's lots of shades."

"Is this one of the Olympian dimensions?" Dani groans, flopping over Dan's shoulder as he sits down on the sofa, "I love Pandora and all, but if I see Zeus again I'm gonna lose it."

"It's one of the hero dimensions," Danny hums, taking over braiding Dan's hair the way Jazz made him when they were little, "There's a couple of Amazons walking about, but on the whole no Olympians."

"I don't know why he didn't just dump me in a Norse dimension." Dan leans back and closes his eyes to their ministrations. "Especially with my current occupation."

The three of them are sitting in Dan's apartment, a large loft studio located somewhere in the UK of the aforementioned hero-dimension. Alber-something, Danny can't remember. Doesn't need to, it being a different dimension from his anyway.

Dan doesn't have a lot of things: a sofa and TV, a bed in the corner, a decent but small kitchen. They're still trying to figure out decorations, but Dan on the whole is a minimalist so it's been slow going.

He's working as a bartender these nights, whiling away his odd existence now that his form has stabilized.

And wasn't that a trip? Learning that hey, adult lightning halfas shouldn't really be mixed with teenage ice halfas, actually!

Apparently, ectoplasm can become corrupted if you try to combine incompatible sources.

Apparently, side effects include (but are not limited to) unmitigated violence and a devastating need for vengeance.

Sound familiar?

"This dimension has a lot of time continuity errors," Danny reminds him, "Dropping you here gave the least amount of pushback."

"Yeah, yeah," Dan flaps a lazy hand, "Praise be the speedforce and flashpoints and whatnot."

"Plus," Dani adds softly, absent-minded as she watches Danny finish up the braid, "Lotsa heroes to help out if you relapse."

Dan heaves a slow, controlled sigh. Danny and Dani both pretend they don't notice.

"Is it bad?" Dan doesn't open his eyes, his voice is so low Danny can only hear him by virtue of his ghost powers, "Like me levels bad?"

"No." Danny shakes his head, leaning into his older self, his older brother of sorts, "He decapitated eight crime lords, killed a couple of assassins, maybe an innocent or two depending on your definition of things."

"Past tense?" Dan scrunches his nose. They all hate how confusing Time Shenanigans are.

"He's living as Red Hood, right this very moment."

"Red Hood?" Dani questions, "That his hero name?"

"Crime lord alias." Danny corrects her, "But he's more of a vigilante these days. Has a bat on his chest and everything."

"But it's bad enough to warrant a trip to the past." Dan points out, "Bad enough for us to try and persuade him. Does he relapse?"

"Not…exactly." Danny scrunches his face, not wanting to explain Clockwork's ambiguity.

Dani floats to spread over Danny and Dan's laps, sprawling out and purring like a cat. Self-soothing, though it's more for their benefit than hers.

"Like Dani said, there’re lots of heroes here, and he doesn't have powers." Danny continues, petting at Dani's soft hair, "The world doesn't end. He doesn't have the means to, even with the ecto-rot."

Danny pauses, and chooses his words deliberately and carefully. "And deep down, Jason Todd is a hero through and through. Relapse would be…difficult. His Obsession is similar to yours."

Dan lets that sit for a moment, but nods, Danny moving a little with the motion. The tension slowly bleeds out as they wait like that, enjoying each other's company.

"If the world doesn't end," Dani whispers, "Why is Clockwork sending all of us?"

Danny thinks on that, on his meeting with Clockwork. The Ancient's voice when he explained what would happen.

He thinks about Jason Todd, about Bruce Wayne, and Catherine, and Sheila. He thinks about Batman, and Robin.

He thinks about Dick Grayson and Tim Drake, about Damian Al Ghul, about Cassandra Cain, and all of Jason's Outlaws.

He thinks about a tattered uniform that stays up in a glass case for a long, long time.

Most of all, he thinks about Dan.

He thinks about regrets and one bad day away.

And then he stops thinking about it, because sometimes the past is the past, and other times, it's the future that never happens that haunts you instead.

"You know, Dani." He settles on, "I'm not sure. He probably has his reasons."

Dan leans heavier onto him, and they lean together like that, with Dani in their laps.

Ghosts of decisions made, unmade, and never to be.

Follow the story on AO3 here!

[impyssadobsessions]

DPXDC Prompt: Amnesia Danny learns a lot more about himself than he ever did before.

Danny ends up with amnesia after a recent ghost fight that landed him straight into the Kent's family farm.

He had no reason not to believe he must be an alien too- from Ma and Pa's reactions to his powers to his acceptance into hero circle.

That is until he met Jon's friend Damian- who recognized him immediately. Was he not from space? Despite his love of stars- if he wasn't from space then where did he come from?

When he slowly discovers more and more of his past nothing makes sense. What version of his past is true? Who was he? Why did so many people claim to know him?

He hoped he can figure it out soon before a war develops between fractions that lay claim to him.

(not demon twins but perhaps siblings ;3 or some secret third thing) Below just continuation of my thoughts I posted on discord ;3

Just makes me think the more Danny learns something else throws a wrench into! Like- Imagine he starts learning about the LOA and what Damian knows- then bam GIW are claiming Danny's hero persona- to be Phantom.

And everything keeps going down a rabbit hole.

Even ghosts or perhaps the ghost he was fighting that caused this confronts him to- or to the media at large. Revealing something else to him. Perhaps it was dan or a version of- or its Plasmius

Or a new ghost entirely with ties to that.

Or could add ghost king to really mess with stuff- and its Pariah wanting his crown back.

Just so many ways to make this into a shit show.

Danny's friends and sister getting involved too- happy to see Danny safe- but Danny just confused.

His brain hurts and he's at a lost at who he is.

Even worse if his dna did show him as part alien. So his world is flipped on its head even once he remembers himself- or the part of himself he knows the most.

I think it would be a fun idea to play with. Creating more and more mystery. And by the time Danny gets some idea- something else happens.

LOA is pissed, GIW are too- Ghost problem is ramping up - everyone wanting to take claim to Danny and Danny just wants to know who he is and how stop the fighting.

But imagine Danny getting acceptance from the league- and maybe they finally get answers who Danny's parents are- why does he have alien dna Danny actually going through puberty with his powers same time as his accident so he never knew and imagine Danny saves the world and becomes into himself. He still doesn't have all the answers but he has enough to know WHO he is- and he's not going to let others taint that image for him.

He's sure he'll find out more as time comes but for now- he's who he strives to be. it definitely be such a big ass story but it would be fun to play with different identities maybe a few red herrings if you want to be extra- but i think just even knowing all of danny's identities be interesting. how people have perceived him to what he actually has done and was. maybe before they use slade to make respawn they experimented with another hero dna or an alien dna in general that was unfortunate to cross their path- and the two grew up together- but found Damian's compassion towards the other as a hindrance. maybe booster gold or impulse know danny from the future due to time travel and/or how he was seen. or if anyone from bad time line before traveling back only remember Dan. ewe luckily Ma and Pa kent supporting Danny through this and protecting him- bats too

So he isn't all on his own but he's certainly confused.

Imagine they help him the most in accepting who he is.

[average-yaoi-enjoyer]

"Why are you making it so angsty, it's a kids show-"

NO. WHY IS NICKELODEON WATERING THIS DOWN?? WTF GUYS.

The shit that goes down in Danny Phantom is batshit insane, and no doubt bone-chillingly painful too.

For the sake of my sanity, l'm not gonna get into the actual show material. How about we just take a second to look at the theme song instead?

"Young Danny Fenton he was just fourteen(14)"

Right off the bat, we got an age. Fourteen? Sounds like he’s still a kid to me, yeah? And I know I said I wasn’t getting into show material, but I do want to mention something. It’s a running joke in the show that Danny hasn’t hit puberty yet. That is a child. Okay? That’s a prepubescent little boy. Keep that in mind for me.

“When his parents built a very strange machine”

so, what I’m hearing is, his parents build things, which would mean they likely have some tools or machinery that should be kept away from Danny(and Jazz for that matter), right? Well apparently not, because this is literally happening in their fucking basement. Child endangerment at its finest, folks. (Side note-do they have permits for this??? Is this even remotely legal???)

“It was designed to view a world unseen”

okay, so not only did they build a “strange machine” in their BASEMENT, this thing is supposed to be a portal to another DIMENSION??!? AND THEY JUST LET THEIR KIDS AROUND IT, AND EVEN SHOW IT OFF TO THEIR YOUNGEST????!! I’m sorry, I just. Somebody call CPS holy shit.

”When it didn’t quite work, his folks, they just quit”

and they just. Left him in there??? ALONE??? I mean yeah, Sam and Tucker were there but those are ALSO fourteen(14) year olds. They don’t count. I mean cmon it’s like you’re asking for him to do something stupid like-

“But then Danny took a look inside of it”

-like that…seriously guys? I mean obviously Danny should have known better than to do that, but his parents definitely hold just as much blame. At the very least get the kids to leave the basement with you. Or hell, just tell them to stay away from the giant portal to the ghost world. I don’t CARE if you think it doesn’t work. Basic lab safety guys….

“There was a great big flash, everything just changed”

Ok, Danny, dude, I love you, but come ON. If you have to go inside the big scary ghost portal could you ATLEAST watch where your hand is going?? Also how did you not feel that button before you pressed it?? Were you just continuously putting weight on the wall as you walked??😭😭

“His molecules got all rearranged”

OW?????? Obviously I have no idea what it feels like to have your molecules rearranged but that HAS to be painful??? Science tumblr, if y’all could possibly back me up on this I would owe you so much.

“When he first woke up, he realized he had snow-white hair and glowing green eyes”

ok so now we have a potential identity crisis on top of everything else. Great. He’s gotta be atleast a LITTLE freaked out about this

”He could walk through walls, disappear, and fly! He was much more unique than the other guys”

Oh sweet, something to make him an outcast from the rest of his peers. That’s gonna be just AMAZING for this still-developing teenager.

”it was then that he knew what he had to do, he had to stop all the ghosts who were coming through”

ah yes, the child warrior. A tale as old as time.

“He’s here to fight, for me and you”

so we’re just…putting the weight of the entire town on this fourteen year olds shoulders??? I’m not misinterpreting that?? Yeah? We are? Okay, great.

I also wanted to add-on top of the whole “molecules being rearranged” stuff, the visuals included him being electrocuted. Not to mention, it LITERALLY KILLED HIM?? And the ectoplasm leaking out from the Ghost Zone brought him back?? So not only did this thing mutate his dna, it also killed and resurrected him😐

still think it’s “just a kids show”?

Anyway, I just needed to yap. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk

[phantoms-lair]

88 for the crossover roulette.

Okay, this one took me a while

~~~~ "You really are like a cockroach aren't you?"

Vlad whirled around. No human should be in this place! Especially not one he didn't know. And he didn't recognize the tall lanky man one bit, though it was hard to make out his face covered by a hood. "How did you get in my house?"

"There are many ways to get into places Plasmius." he snarled.

Well that was that then. Whoever he was, he couldn't live. He created a duplicate behind the man, ready to strike him unawares-

Only to scream as the duplicate popped and incredible pain lanced through his body.

"Like it?" The stranger sneered, showing off his belt. "Improved model of the specter deflector. Little bit of the Plasmius Maximus built in too. Good luck using your powers for the next several hours." he crouched before Vlad's prone form. "Now where were we? Oh right, you being a cockroach. You do the stupidest shit and then you escape consequences by lying. You lie to your business partners before you rob them blind. You lied to Valerie about everything about ghosts. You like to yourself about how nothings ever your fault and that Mom would ever like you. You lie to Dad about being his friend while trying to kill him."

"Daniel?" Vlad gasped. The man pulled back his hood revealing a familiar face made foreign by age. This Danial was clearly an adult, though not a healthy one, gaunt and wary. "But the specter deflector?"

"Let me tell you a story Vlad. It has a sad beginning. Hell, it's sad all around, but the beginning packs a wallop. It start with a freak explosions at a fast food place causing the deaths of Maddie, Jack, and Jasmine Fenton, Sam Manson, and Tucker Foley. None of whom became ghosts after that. One survivor, who only survived because his half ghost body regenerated the damage, one Danial Fenton."

"Originally the next of kin to take him is was his Aunt Alicia, but since reconnecting with his 'best friend' Jack had wanted it changed to Vlad Masters. Maddie resisted at first, but after Vlad pretended to save Danny from Pariah Dark, again an incident he'd caused in the first place and again lying, she'd agreed."

"But Vlad wasn't as happy to have control of the boy as he once would have been. He'd blamed him for living when his mother hadn't. He wanted the boy to act grateful for even being in his presence when all the boy wanted was to have died with his loved ones. Needless to say it didn't work out. But did you give him to his Aunt? No. You decided you just needed a better version of him. You'd already been working at your cloning experiments, even if they weren't...built to last." He looked a tube containing a small girl sadly. "But you did the thing you did best besides lying. You got greedy."

"I was at your mercy. Obviously you could have harvest my DNA at your leisure and made a perfect clone, but you decided you wanted more. You decided to splice your own DNA in, so it would truly be 'your' son and that's where everything went wrong."

"You're the first halfa Vlad, but you know how first drafts are. Or maybe you don't, I doubt you ever did your own work. First drafts are messy and incomplete. And that's you as a halfa. Twenty years of experience, but Little Me was catching up to you in less that one. He was also good to go without any serious recovery time while you needed years of hospitalization and even then had flare ups. In terms of blending I was mayonnaise, kept stable and homogenous. You were oil and vinegar, constantly trying to separate. That's what the ecto acne was, you know. Not some skin condition like puberty gone wrong. It was your human body trying to purge itself of ghostly contaminants. Trying to reject Plasmius. And maybe you'd be healthier if you let it."

"But back to the point. You were an imperfect halfa. And you passed that along to the clones you made with your DNA. They failed even faster and you decided the solution was more power. You used me as a battery, draining my ectoplasm into your creation, damaging my body so much I can't create more. You essentially made me human again Vlad. But it still wasn't enough. And you decided it couldn't need much more, so you decided to transfer a bit of your own, only for your creation to take all of it."

"I guess credit where credit it due, you cured my death wish. I lived. I escaped and warned people. They didn't believe me of course. Thought I was mad with grief, especially Val. Until the attacks started. I don't know what the fuck you made with our combined DNA, but whatever it was it had both our memories and neither of our moral compasses, or at least any you pretend to have. It fed off death. And no one was ready for it. For a while I was imprisoned because it would pretend to be me and as such I was deemed a risk. But time helped that. I aged and it didn't. It's human form would always be 14 year old Danny Fenton while it's ghost form was a horrible amalgamation of us. It killed. It destroyed. Anything we did to keep it out it would eventually overpower. Until we decided to game the system."

"Time travel, Vlad. Remove the triggering incident. But not even Clockwork can change things all willy nilly. But what he did was seed things in the past to make the Observants of then panic and order him to fix it. Of course they did it by ordering my death, so Clocky had to work around that. Prove Little Me was worth the chance. Little Me ended up in my time and guess what you did Vlad? Can you guess? You lied again. Made up a whole sob story of how you were just trying to help me with my grief by surgically removing my ghost half and how my ghost half then attacked and stole yours and you'd spent all those years trying to fix it. And he believed you. He's burdened with guilt for a time that never happened and believes you're capable of changing and deserve a second chance. Your lies always work, don't they. But I know better. You can't lie to me, not anymore."

"But I'm not going to kill you Vlad, do you know why?"

"Because you're Daniel. I'm sure you're telling yourself something about how I'll suffer more alive, but the truth is you just can't bring yourself to do something like cold blooded killing." Vlad sneered.

"Wrong. You have no idea what I had to do to survive the hell you made." Danial smiled. "I just respect dibs."

"What? OW!" Vlad's body spasmed as something was forcefully injected into it. He looked up behind him and saw an older version of Valerie Grey, twirling a pressure injector, almost exactly like the ones he used to treat his symptoms when they reoccurred. (The scheming part of his brain realizing that would mean it wouldn't raise any alarms if marks from it were found on his body)

"A little compound based on one of the Fenton's projects. I strengthens ectoplasm and makes it stronger. It would be a real boost for past Danny or any other ghost. But for you? Well, your human form was barely holding it together with the ectoplasm you had."

Vlad whimpered, feeling the bubbling under his skin he recognized from his ectoacne only a hundred times worse.

"Goodbye Vlad." Valerie uncaringly stepped over his dying form and wrapped her arms around Danny, the two joining in a kiss.

"It worked." There was joy in Danny's voice for the first time in along time. "It really worked Val. The future, our loved ones, they're safe."

"They are." Valerie smiled down on him. "So we doing this?"

"Yeah. It's selfish, but I think we've both earned a little selfish." Danny pulled a USB and stuck it in Vlad's computer, Mikey's code rewriting several things. "There we go, edited to include another clone of me and one of you."

"How long are we going to have to be in those tube?" Val wrinkled her nose a little.

"Not long. The evidence we dropped off should get the investigation here in less than a day. Also I missed seeing you with long hair."

"It wasn't practical." Valerie grinned. "But Little You saw me with the buzzcut so I had to grow it back." Thankfully with all the wonders of the Infinite Realms, something to instantly grow hair was downright mundane and something Clockwork had been happy to maintain the timeline.

The story now was the story that had to be. If the Observants discovered they were manipulated they might undo their undo. But Vlad had to be handled and with the narrative the Observants had gotten they wouldn't do it themselves.

(Valerie had actually ranted about this, about how even in the lie Vlad had spun the Monster was half him, But the Observants had put all the blame on the mourning 14 year old. Typical.) The 'responsible' thing would be to let themselves fade from the timeline. Or barring that disappearing and starting new. But as Danny had said, they'd earned a bit of selfishness.

If they posed as clones of their past selves there was a chance their families would be contacted and taken in. It was a gamble. Maybe the authorities they'd contacted would destroy them or turn them over to the GiW. Maybe the Fentons or Damian Grey would see them as a violation of their children and reject them. But they'd take the gamble. It wasn't any worse than the one they'd just taken to save the future. And besides, their younger selves needed all thee help they could get

Sure Danny didn't have powers anymore, but he had the experience fighting his younger self had lacked. If everything worked out, not even Pariah Dark would have a chance against two Danny's working together.

~~~~

Future Danny, Valerie, and Clockwork: We'll seed these images to the Observants so they know all they have to do to save the future is prevent the explosion

Observants: Naturally there's only one way to fix this, KILL THE CHILD

Future Danny, Valerie, and Clockwork: *facepalm*

[raccoonrobyn-imagines]

Danny has been trying to just live on the Gotham streets peacefully for a good year and three quarters, and all that he's gotten is that people keep trying to say he's a prophet for Apollo.

Danny is not Apollos prophet. He's the fucking Ghost King and Apollo wishes that he was Danny.

Sure, he doesn't want to start beef with the God's of this dimension, but it's not his fault that when he complained to Clockwork that he was bored after a few thousand millenia of doing his King Shit Clockwork decided to send Danny on a vacation. He just wanted to take a few weeks, but apparently, Clockwork said that Danny needed to spend an entire human lifetime here.

He is even as small as a 10 year old! His body, thankfully, is only shrunken down instead of him being an actual 10 year old as he probably would have left this dimension within the first four years to fight Clockwork for making him go through puberty again, but apparently his Dear Old Dad knew that he would, so he cut that off at the pass.

Anyways, he's now the size of a 10 year old, living on the streets and is ready to fuck up the next person who dares to attempt to kidnap him for being a kid with white hair and green eyes on the streets. Since this dimension has so many heroes and the like, they also have many villains, and this city is plagued by them so much that other people on this planet have this place listed as a "do not fly zone".

Danny thinks this place is fine, but that might mainly have to do with how he's able to see the spirits and shades that congregate to a villain attack that would happen soon.

And since he can see that, he can also avoid them.

People have started to notice... which is why through some type of social media called tumblr, they've decided that Danny is some sort of prophet. And for Apollo, no less! No offense to Apollo, but Danny is quite literally the God Above God's. He has mediated their quarrels more than he has slept in the past several thousand years! Plus! He's very clearly star or moon coded, than he is sun coded!

Anyways, now he gets to deal with people staring at him when he's just wandering around, as if he's going to look them in the eye and tell them that the Clown Bitch is gonna show up in a few minutes! As if he hasn't already passed judgement on that fucker and disembowled him a week ago!

As Danny is grumbling to himself while he walks down 4th Avenue, he pauses, seeing a large congregation of shades and spirits in the middle of the street and glares at the knowledge that he's gonna go viral again, and states clearly, and loudly, to those watching and videoing " The Vibes Are Rancid." Before turning and walking in the opposite direction.

He can hear the stampede rushing away from that street before he sees people pushing past him. They're all carefully running past him, but never harming him. They all know that Danny is worth the care in the self-interest of not getting themselves killed at some point

At least he can satisfy his protection obsession by warning people about the impending attack...

Now, if only the bats and birds of the city would leave him alone and stop trying to grab him, he'd have a much more peaceful existence. And since it's already dark out, he's aware that at least one of the birds are tailing him.

He can sense one that's on the rooftop above him watching him and probably already calling the rest of their clan for backup where the attack is predicted to happen. He thinks it's one of the red ones. The purple one would have already tried to talk to him, and The Big Bat himself would have tried to get him to agree to an adoption already. The ghostly silent girl would have waved to him, and the eldest boy would have offered him some food by now.

That leaves the one in the stupid hat, the one who never stops asking him questions, and the one with a sword. The red question one would have probably come to ask him what's going on by now, unless it has to do with how many people are still around, the one in the stupid hat tends to watch from a rooftop, ready to defend him but not really wanting to interact, and the sword one would rather be on the street with him, just cause they do tend to talk more often after Danny had asked once about how to take care of a hurt cat.

Danny didn't anticipate becoming friends with Robin, but he does find the 23 year old interesting. Robin and him have had a few fun interactions, and he seems to enjoy talking to Danny like he is a person and not just a child.

He does know who all the bats and birds are, due to knowing what their souls say their names are. However, he also knows that he probably shouldn't say their names, both from his time being a hero, and from hearing that no one knows who they are.

Once all the people rushing away have cleared out, he feels more than hears his friend drop down beside him. "Hello, Red Robin. Have you come to ask me some questions? Or should I assume you're here to evacuate me?" Danny smirks.

"Bud, you already know the answer to that. I still have 5 questions left for this week, per our agreement." RR chuckles. "And remember, if I get who you are right by the end of this week with any questions left, you let either me or Robin adopt you. Are you royalty?"

Danny grins, his face nearly splitting in half, his lips literally spreading ear to ear. "Yes, I am."

"Are you from this dimension?" RR asks, his grin growing wider as well. Danny can tell that RR finally figured out who he is, he just wants to run down the questions a little more.

"No." Danny is starting to feel more at ease from this game seemingly coming to an end. He's been giving this bird the run around for a year and a half. He's sure that they're both relieved for it to be coming to a close.

"Are you actually older than this worlds birth?"

Danny pauses at this question, unsure of how long hes been around. "I do not remember how long its been since your worlds existed, but I do know that our dimensions times aren't 1:1 and I don't exactly know how old I am. I've been ruling for several thousand millenia if that counts as an answer."

RR chuckles and nods, his face showing his complete confidence of who he thinks Danny is. "Are you The Ghost King Of The Infinite Realms?"

A distant sound of ice shattering echoes under Danny's title, and Danny cackles. "Yes, I am. That was a fun game, little bird. Should I choose who will adopt me?"

RR grins, pure satisfaction radiating from his every move. "Robin and I both decided that Robin should adopt you. Of course, since you're older than anyone on earth, you won't actually be his child on anything except paper, but you will be able to have an actual place to sleep and the like. Shall I call Robin to let him know the good news, your majesty?" RR asks teasingly.

"Hmmm, no. Don't tell him anything, I'll just go to his apartment to wait for him. I'm sure him and the rest of the clan are waiting for you to get back and help with the attack as well. Better not keep them waiting, Uncle." He grins before vanishing in front of Red Robin.

Ghosts Tell Me

~

Ghosts gather near the place where something bad is going to happen,

Danny with his ghost sense tends to notice before anyone else and tends to react outwardly before the danger even happens, gaining a reputation of seeing the future,

Ghosts also tell Danny things, causing Danny to know more about situations and the people around him, it comes of as suspicious.

~

Danny pulling away a snack from his coworker: "Careful your allergic to these ingredients!"

Coworker: "How the hell...I've never mentioned that to anyone."

~

Danny on a phone call with his friends while doing his nightly walks in Gotham: "Yeah so apparently the second Robin who is now Red Hood has very personal beef with the clown here cuz he got killed by him after being sold out by his bio mom, which really sucks for the poor guy."

Oracle who has been keeping an Eye on Danny cuz he's very suspicious from an outsiders pov: "Hey B, I think we have a problem."

~

Danny notices that the ghost in Gotham tends to gather where something bad is going to happen, the more they are the worse the situation will be: *glowing smoke leaves from his mouth* "Yikes! Very bad vibes here, nope!"

Gothamites who at this point recognize him and know the drill and quickly pack up their things to leave:

~

Just an Idea

[home-of-renn]

I love the hc that Danny can't help but trigger this innate, subconscious fight or flight response in everyone he meets. I love it even more when it's the reason why he still gets bullied by Dash.

Truth be told, Dash grew up years ago. His mean streak had been a short-lived phase that left a bad taste in his mouth. The sudden influx of hormones brought on by the onset of puberty had apparently muddled his brain and left him emotionally stunted for the duration of his freshman year. He'd shoved nerds into lockers and stolen their lunch money. He sorely wishes he hadn't been so excruciatingly cliche.

But he'd somehow managed to unstick his head from his ass pretty quick and he hasn't laid a finger on anyone since - well, except for Fenton.

Fenton had always been the exception. Small and slouched, with a messy fringe that fell into his eyes. Danny Fenton always made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end whenever he walked past.

His arm would brush too close or his shoulder would bump into his in a crowded hallway and Dash's arm would lash out before he could even comprehend the accidental touch. Fenton would be pinned against a locker with Dash's forearm against his neck in the blink of an eye.

The funny thing is though, no one stops him. The other kids don't call him out and the teachers are always coincidentally absent.

Dash isn't a bully - at least not anymore. He helped Lester get his locker door open after a ghost attack left the damn thing jammed shut. He stays late after practice so the girls on the cheer team don't have to walk home when the sun starts dipping low. He holds doors open for the people walking behind him and even offers a polite smile. The other day he stopped to help some little kid struggling to tie their shoelaces.

He's trying to be better. His mom cried about how proud she was on his birthday last month and principal Ishiyama made a passing comment on how nice it was not seeing him in her office every week. He enjoys being nice to people. It's gratifying, and some kids have started coming up to him when they need help.

Once upon a time, Dash had been a chubby self-conscious kid who'd hit the gym as soon as his dad had gotten sick of his begging. Puberty had hit him like a truck and he'd started shaving a year before anyone else. Since then he'd bulked up and was far larger than the average high schooler. He'd been honing his reflexes for years and never drops the ball. He's the shield that everyone hides behind during ghost fights. He's big and strong and has damn good aim - which is better than nothing when going up against a ghost.

But there's something wrong with Fenton.

Danny makes sweat gather beneath his collar and Dash has to grind his teeth any time he walks past.

At least he's not the only one.

Kwan's hands are always clenched into fists when they walk past Fenton's locker, even if he's not there. It feels wrong to have your back to Fenton in the changing rooms and Lancer's the only teacher still handing Danny a detention slip - Dash suspects it's cause none of the other staff can stand to be alone with him for that long.

No one steps in when someone lashes out at the Fenton kid. No one says a word or runs towards the teacher's lounge when Dale has Danny by the arm, eyes wide and gripped so tight his knuckles turn white.

The hallway goes silent and the world steps back as Dash's team flank his sides while the front of Danny's shirt is bunched in his fist. His heart thuds against his ribs and pounds in his ears as Danny opens his mouth to make a sarcastic quip. Danny's always been a sarcastic, mouthy little shit, but Dash can't find it in himself to laugh, not while his body forms a physical barrier between Fenton and everyone else - not when Dash has him by the throat but he's the one feeling cornered and exposed. He has to dig his toes into the soles of his sneakers to resist running.

It's not normal.

Dash plays along, keeping his cool as he goes through the familiar routine. He spits out a pathetic insult that misses its mark and thumps Danny against his locker before dropping him to the ground.

It feels rehearsed, like he's stuck in a cycle he can't seem to break. It's one big act that Dash walks away from with adrenaline churning the contents of his stomach and sweat gathering in the palms of his hands. The hallway parts as Dash walks away. He spares a glance at Kwan, whose dark eyes are trained on the floor in front of him, his fists clenching at his sides, shaking under the fluorescent lights. Dash hides his own hands in his pockets. The one he had bunched in Danny's shirt trembles, his nerves vibrating with the sensation of pins and needles. It feels like static under his skin. He tries wiping it off on the inside of his jacket.

The entire student body of Casper high follows behind him.

[underforeversgrace]

fang u for ur help

DannyMay2023 Day 16: Fangs

title: fang u for ur help

words: 341

Summary: Danny has fangs?

No warnings apply.

~~~~~~

Danny grumbled, his forehead pressed against the park table while the phone against his ear rang, Sam and Tucker’s barely concealed giggles to either side of him.

“Vlad Masters speaking.” He said as soon as he picked up the phone. Of course he couldn’t say something normal like ‘hello’ or ‘how can I help you?’ when answering calls from an unknown number.

“Is ghost puberty a thing?” Danny asked immediately and Sam and Tucker absolutely lost their shit, devolving into loud guffaws.

“Excuse me?” Vlad answered, baffled. If Danny weren’t so miserable, it would be hilarious.

“Ghost puberty. Is it a thing?”

“Unfortunately.” Vlad said.

Danny just groaned, beginning to slightly hit his head against the table.

“Oh shit, it is?” Tucker asked. Danny gave a small hum of confirmation.

“Great. Fucking. Great.” Danny mumbled into the phone.

“I, ah… didn’t think you’d have to go through it for several more years.” Vlad actually sounded almost apologetic.

“Not going through it yet,” Danny said, ignoring how weird this conversation was. “But figured I’d better ask since I’m fucking teething.”

“Your fangs are coming in? Has it really already been two years?”

“You don’t have fangs when you’re human!” Danny (definitely not did not) whined.

“I did for a little while. Eventually it goes away and will just be on your ghost side. I’m assuming you’ve already discovered over the counter pain relievers do nothing?”

“My entire head hurts.” Danny said as a not-answer.

Vlad sighed. “Truce? It’s going to get worse.”

“What the fuck do you mean it gets worse?”

“It gets… much worse.”

Danny just hit his head harder against the table. Was this helping? No it was not. But there was no ghost around to punch the ectoplasm out of.

“Come by in a few hours. We’ll talk.”

“Fine.” Danny grumbled. Vlad said nothing else, ending the call.

“So how’d the talk about puberty with your sworn enemy go?” Sam teased.

“Dude, what is your life that this a thing you have to do?” Tucker added.

Danny banged his head again. “Shut up.”

[pbeltarts]

I can’t remember where i saw this mentioned but someone pointed out how danny NEVER cries in the show. Like plenty of characters cry, just never danny, and mind you crying is necessary for emotional regulation. The phandom can use this as angst potential. Imagine characters seeing him cry and just going: “oh shit this is serious.” or theres some kind of last straw and Dan just kinda lets it all out at once and starts bawling. Im actually kinda begging u to make a comic based on this lil detail.

Bro in a remake I would love to explore Danny's relationship with his emotions in response to how he's handling his trauma. Because it wasn't done in the original and I think its such a let down!! The only major emotion I remember Danny expressing regularly, that got a slight spotlight, was anger. And that was interesting!

But imagine Danny starting out as an anxious teen, just starting his highschool career. He wants confidence, he wants to be brave, but its not that easy- and then the transition happens. Now, on top of a confusing puberty he doesn't want (because he's trans), he's struggling with this whole other biological change that no one can help him with. He doesn't feel like he can tell his parents for fear of what they'll do, he doesn't tell his sister yet because what if she tells their parents... the only people who know is his two best friends.

And so the anxiety is still rly bad, but he's learning to just brunt force through it because now? He's the only one who can protect people from the mistake he made. He feels responsible and despite the fear he feels, he has to move foward.

(Frankly, this whole 'get through the fear' thing I think would be mounted early on, as a "starting point" where we see Danny struggling p soon after getting his powers, eventually choosing "I can't do this" and wanting to just put it away and not think about it but something happens that sort of forces his hand and he has to do something and use these powers and the success of this proves to him that he CAN do this.)

From there we see Danny go from anxious and scared, to more confident and mischievous as he gains better control of his abilities. Its still awkward at times, its still bumpy but you can see the small change over time- and then he runs into his first biggest problem, Vlad.

Someone he should be able to relate to, someone he should see as a confidant, but instead Vlad treats him like Dash does. Like a freak, a burden, a loser. And it hurts so much more because Vlad is better at everything Danny is just brushing the surface of. And when he loses to Vlad? That puts this nail in the coffin of "I have to get better faster"

So Danny hardens. Subtly at first, spending more and more time as Phantom and practicing and training and at first his friends just think its a phase he's getting through- but he doesn't get through it. He just hardens more. No more goofy Danny, or anxious Danny. Just Danny Phantom, hero of Amityville, the person who faces any monster without fear. He starts not talking to his friends, to his family. He can't open up because they don't get it.

And then he's jailed in the ghost prison. Another trauma, another nightmare, but one he can't easily deal with and escape. It puts a lot of new pressure on him, being there and being surrounded by danger, and having to operate in this way that keeps him alive- to the best of his ability. He makes it out, luckily and barely, and there begins the start of the cracking. Because it was so fucking scary.

More and more I think we should see these moments in Danny's life that warp how he copes with them and see how he changes in response to them, and how the PEOPLE he relents this to help or hinder him.

[dragoknitter]

Catch these fuckin’

Danny Phantom One-Shot Recs

I’m gonna plug my own one-shot in here first, then go in reverse through my history. This list is probably gonna have more fics, so buckle up. There’s (surprisingly) only one crossover, and I’ve also put the GothMoth fics into a section by themselves. Because they’re special.

Coincidentally by Dragoknitter - Miles and Tucker are cousins, and Tucker basically says, “Y’all need a support system, lemme hook you up.”

Is This Just A Thing that Girls Do? by newdog14 - Middle school girls are terrifying, and this is definitely something I might’ve done if given the right motivation.

Pushing Buttons (Until They Break) by ObsidianCreates - Danny’s parents aren’t the best at feelings, and press on way too many sore spots. But! There’s a sequel and they make up for it!

Day Three: Cryptid by JadeNoRyuu - Astraphobic Danny + supernatural thunderstorm + helpful senior student = a fun little story that is just *Pacha 🖐👌Meme*

The Green Gremlin by NikaylaSarae - Some top-notch character building for Dash, although this author mostly writes for Sanders Sides

Parental Woes by DarkNymfa - Very nice premise! Clockwork and Pandora are awesome, but don’t really Get human stuff. Danny is embarrassed.

Of Tweets and Twats by DarkNymfa - Twitter convos discussing Amity Park, featuring people from Amity Park!

Flickering Yellow and Green by dragonrayy - Danny gets hit with something by Technus that messes up his eyes, so he goes to a ghost optometrist.

Grabbing Smoke by thatgirl_youknowtheone - Lovely characterization for Kitty! Also has Jewish Sam!

Growing Pains by ayjayar - Ghost puberty! Ghost puberty! But not for Danny

What Can Be Found by ajility - Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt. Or, in this case, a dream ship in the Ghost Zone.

Facing Facts by ajility - I get the feeling this author just likes writing Danny in denial about his parents’ neglect…

The Things We Hold Dear by Alana_Kitty - Nice little story about Danny fixing Ember’s guitar!

Bang Babies got nothin’ on the Ghost Kid by anthrop - Look. I loved Static Shock as a kid and seeing him completely overwhelmed by Danny’s OP ass is wonderful.

Core by GhostWriterGirl1 - F in the chat for Danny. Boi gets messed up by a solar flare. The author added in the reasoning behind the headcanon too, so that’s neat!

Shots Fired by RedGhost1010 - This is definitely NOT what you should do in the event of a school shooting, but who cares about that when you’re immortal?

Lightning Scars and Listening Ears by GoingDeceased - A little angsty, but hey! Danny finally has some adults on his side!

Electricity by lexosaurus - Danny has PTSD, and peer pressure is a bitch

GothMoth Fics

Spooky Sin Scholar - Danny is a polyglot and teaches classmates to swear in Ghost.

The Fright In Halloween - Danny is a little shit, but what else is new?

Mimicry - Mostly just shitting on radical Christianity’s policy of “unnatural things must be eradicated, we must send them back to Hell where they belong”, at least that’s my takeaway

Fashion Flame War - Uniforms are only convenient for schools, and are a crime against expression of self. Casper High can never do things the easy way, though.

In My Veins Flows Chaos, But I Could Do Without It Being This Obvious - *plops ectoplasm into Danny’s hands* He glows!

Nip Trips Nips - Ah, ghost nip. And implied Val/Ellie! (Ellie is my preferred name for her because Dani and Danny is just so confusing)

Ecto Upgrade Start - Ghost puberty, for Danny this time!

Gala Glamour - Richness and pettiness are a given combination, after all, why shouldn’t Vlad use his ridiculous wealth for the entertainment of teenagers?

Poised To Go Splat - Don’t drink glow sticks, kids. Or let your insane ghost-hunting parents make an anti-ecto fog machine for the school dance.

What Qualifies As A Few Too Many Words? One - Ah, the unfortunate circumstance of a ghost needing Danny’s help, luckily (or unluckily) the ghost doesn’t speak English.

Would You Like Some Bullets With That, Sir? - Vlad is insanely rich. People don’t like him. Failed assassinations are just annoying when you’re immortal.

Phabulous Phashion - Danny should not be allowed to shop for clothes by himself.

Little Nibblers - Accidental ghost edible consumption, and baby fangs.

[reading-wanderer]

Side Hoes Week— Day 2, Frostbite/Eternity

Frostbite tries to help the Great One through an existential crisis. Sort of.

TW: mentions character death both major and minor

As the current leader of his people, Frostbite had seen many things over the years— the slow transformation from humanoid ghost to Yeti that all of his people went through, ghosts lost to Obsession Starvation trying desperately to grasp at the Infini-map as their cores flickered and gave out inside of them leaving only sickly grey ectoplasm splattered across the floor, his people torn to shreds and risen again as cogs in Pariah Dark’s army, the rise of Danny Phantom as the Hero of Earth and the Great One of the Far Frozen— and yet he knew there was still so much for him to see as time stretched out before him. Eternity was a gift and a curse that every ghost had to grapple with eventually.

It was also, as far as he knew, something that extended to Half-Ghosts as well. Frostbite had expected the conversation to come eventually. The Great One had become a half-ghost young enough that it wouldn’t be readily apparent for some years while his human body continued going through the hormone cascades known as puberty, but looking down at him now— looking barely over twenty-five despite being a decade older, wild eyed and practically hugging himself— Frostbite knew that the time had come.

Ushering the Great One into his own quarters where they could have a mostly private conversation, Frostbite lingered in the hall just long enough to ask one of the others passing by to have some ice-leaf tea prepared and sent to his rooms before slipping in himself and settling into the large chair across from the couch the Great One had settled on.

“So, what brings you out to the Far Frozen Great One?”

“Frostbite, can you not do the Great One thing today? Just call me Danny,” the Great One started, fingers picking at the seam of his belt in obvious agitation. “I just. It was kind of noticeable before, but. I mean sometimes people just have baby face, like that one dude who played Spider-Man in the new movies. I figured it would go away over time and. But. Like. I’m thirty-five, Frostbite. I should look thirty-five, not twenty on a good day!”

“I have suspected for a while now, that your human body might stop aging after a point,” Frostbite admitted. “Puberty is a series of hormone cascades that cause physical changes and while some changes continue into early adulthood, after that point, most signs of aging are a result of your body wearing out over time— a process your ghost side would register as injury and automatically fix.”

“So what? I’ve just stopped aging forever now?”

“I’m sorry Great One— Danny,” he corrected himself at the man’s exasperated look, “The only one who would be able to tell you for sure was the other of your kind.”

“And he’s out somewhere in space,” the Great One sighed, “shit. I never thought I’d actually want that asshole back for once. I might be able to fish his crazy ass back to Earth if I talk to—”

“Yes, well,” Frostbite interrupted so he didn’t have to inform the Great One that his counterpart had almost certainly succumbed to Obsession Starvation within a year of leaving Earth, “without his input to tell us otherwise. As best as I can tell, you are as immortal as any other ghost.”

“You mean…”

“As long as your core remains intact, you have the rest of time in front of you. An eternity to explore the world and the infinite realms as you wish.”

“Shit.” The Great One breathed heavily, burying his face in his hands.

“I realize it’s a lot to take in right now,” Frostbite attempted to console him, ignoring the bitter ‘you think’ that slipped out of the Great One’s mouth, “but this is something every ghost must come to terms with eventually.”

“What, outliving all of my friends and family? Watching them grow old and die without me while I just stay twenty something forever?”

“Exactly,” he answered simply. His own wife and children were long gone, as were the families of all but the most recent additions to the Yeti tribes. If the Great One was lucky, his own family would return as ghosts, remember him, and survive until their cores settled. Not many were that lucky. Frostbite himself certainly hadn’t been, though he was unsure whether passing onto whatever came next was better or worse than the lingering of ghosts. There were certainly many bright sides to sticking around. The Great One, Danny, would realize it eventually. Eternity was not all bad.

[datawyrms]

Responsibility

For Phic Fight 2021, The Lord of Chaos’s prompt c:

Spectra fed off of misery; nocturne fed off of dreams.  The elusive town cryptid that only shows up when people need saving gains a following and Danny finds that he gets a boost from the people who have faith in him, he starts to become aware of them, especially when they needed him.

The rest of the town seeing him as benevolent was a positive thing. The uncomfortable stabs that his ‘parents were right’ about ghosts lessened as fewer and fewer treated him as a monster just as troublesome as Technus. He didn’t need to tense when the news was on, to hear his attempts to help called a ‘savage attack’, or that stupid nickname. He’d slept a bit easier, knowing that people did understand he only meant to help lately. Sure, Mom and Dad might still insist he was an evil ghost, but it was so much easier to ignore that when he didn’t feel he was only one step away from proving them right to everyone else. Clumsy and reckless he could take. Just as long as he wasn’t some ‘evil soul sucking abomination.’

Having Jazz a bit more in the loop had actually started to pay off. She wasn’t as good at catching a ghost as Sam or Tucker, sure, but she wasn’t hindering him anymore either. Honestly, if all three of them worked together, his powers weren’t really needed unless something huge found its way to town. Which his friends had insisted he take advantage of at least once a week, to let them handle the usual patrols and alerts while he tried to catch up on work and sleep. Mostly sleep, to be honest. Focusing on work was almost impossible when his ghost sense went off, even if he knew they didn’t need help. He wanted to go, he had to go; but they were very good at yelling at him for not ‘trusting them’ to handle things. He really did need the break. That’s why he was feeling a little less haggard, a bit more alert. At least, that’s what made the most sense.

Then the ‘lurching’ started. He couldn’t think of a better name then that. It wasn’t like his ghost sense, that sort of just crawled out of him and didn’t give him much to go on beyond ‘there’s definitely a ghost around’. That could go off and leave him rolling his eyes at the box ghost, or fighting for his life against Plasmius with the exact same feeling. The lurching was...different. Like his ghost sense forgot where his windpipe was and decided to escape in a random direction. Inssenantly. It didn’t hurt, but it was annoying, worse than the pang that would pass when he ignored whatever got his ghost sense acting up. It just kept pulling in a direction, but refusing to get out from under his skin. Sometimes it would keep going for an entire class, which just made whatever the lurch’s chosen direction noticeably cold. He was pretty sure he was immune to frostbite nowadays, but that didn’t make explaining things easier if someone spotted his hand looking almost blue from lack of blood flow.

Maybe his core was on the fritz again. Who knew what sort of weird things could happen to a human who spent half his time dead?

Tucker suggested that he was just getting ghost puberty to go with the ‘joys’ of human puberty. Which sure, was funny and they could shove each other around and forget about it for a time. It didn’t feel like the right answer. None of his other powers acted up, honestly he was feeling better after fights then he usually did lately. Less drained, anyway. It wasn’t stopping either.

It just got worse. More intense. More frequent. Instead of vanishing the area the lurch decided to pull in seemed to grow the longer he tried to dismiss it. Noticeably. To the point even Dash asked if he should avoid punching him because ‘that shit looks contagious’. (He privately hoped it was. Dash totally deserved weird pulling that made you frost over.)

He had to ignore it, he couldn’t just drop everything every single time the lurch decided to show up. He’d look completely off his rocker, running in some random direction because ‘my shoulder feels cold to the north-west’. If it was close enough to be a real danger, his ghost sense would just go off!

So Saturday was going to be a ‘lurch hunt’. No more ignoring it, no school or mandatory activities that should keep him from following the strange cold that felt desperate to go after something. Yet even deciding that made his insides squirm. He had to follow it, he should be- but that was dumb. He missed enough class as it was.

So why was it so hard to focus on anything else when it started going? Like nothing else mattered? It wasn’t like he was drifting off or sleepy either.

Jazz said he was ‘fixated’ on something.

But how do you fixate on some weird feeling under your skin? He didn’t even know what it was! Just that Sam and Tucker kept needing to flick things at him to get him to pay attention to reality. One of his best rested weeks in ages, and he was worse off then he’d been focus wise in years. Stupid ghost powers. Saturday took far too long to come. Even when one of the lurches stopped pulling he couldn’t relax. Instead of relief he just felt. Hollow. He’d woken up in a panic, half expecting to be chained down in one of Vlad’s sick laboratories, but he wasn’t cut open. He wasn’t even injured. Safe, in bed- and feeling like the cold ran off with his ribcage.

Something was wrong with him. That had to be it. Once they found the cause, he’d solve it and it would stop. It had to.

Following it shouldn’t make him feel as relieved as it did. Taking his ghost form and flying after some...feeling that wanted to drag him somewhere was more like when Freakshow’s Staff dominated his mind than anything positive. A compulsion he couldn’t help giving in to.

At least his ghost sense went off once he’d followed it long enough, finding one of Vlad’s mutant ghost animals chasing someone through the streets.

Normal. A bit of one sided banter to get it’s attention, a few punches and ectoblasts and it was shoved away in the thermos. No more pulling, and one less ghost terrorizing town. That didn’t make sense. Unless it really was just his ghost sense increasing in range while becoming infinitely more irritating?

That’s what it felt like, at first. He’d follow, ghost sense, find the problem. Except there was something odd. Every ghost he found like this wasn’t just wandering about, or making a mess. They were all actively chasing, stalking or attempting to scare someone. Okay, so it homed in on more ‘violent’ ghosts then? That seemed possible.

Until one of the lurches kept pulling, but there was no ghost sense. The one that kept pulling him towards a man with his back against the wall, fumbling with a wallet. The man who wasn’t being threatened by Skulker, or a vulture, or any of this typical fare. Just another human with a gun, and the will to use it.

This so wasn’t his thing. He fought ghosts, they were half his fault to begin with. So why was his ghost sense leading him to this? Well. It hadn’t. Lurching confirmed for not ghost sense?

Jazz would totally chew him out for tackling someone with a gun. He just had to forget to go intangible at a bad time, and he’d be all ghost. Or worse, go intangible and someone else got a body full of lead. He couldn’t just...ignore it now that he’d seen it though. The chill that hummed below his skin wouldn’t let him.

So the guy was a bit startled about getting pulled through a wall and dropped off the other side. Probably lost some change. He’d expected a bit of fear, at least. Like come on, some ghost just grabs you while a gun’s in your face? That’s still scary.

Yet he didn’t seem bothered. Just thankful. Called him a ‘hero’. For being in the right place at the right time. By just happening to be there because...because he knew? Something in him knew. That was wrong, he shouldn’t just know when people were in danger like that. He vanished without a word, not wanting to stick around and hear more. It was coincidence. Hopefully the guy wasn’t too offended that he just bolted, but he couldn’t stay there. He didn’t like how the complement felt good in a way he couldn’t describe. That the cold in his chest thrummed with a pleasure that made the rest of him feel ill. He wasn’t a hero, he was just some kid. A kid who still wanted to have a life that wasn’t all this, eventually.

He can’t ignore at dinner that he picks at his meal, not from exhaustion but because he’s not hungry. He’s still energized, he’s still full- and no amount of gagging over the sink makes his stomach empty. ‘Ghosts helping humans only do so for their own ends’. He’d ignored and denied that, he hadn’t been getting anything out of being the local ghost punching bag- so why was he now? Did he steal something? Feed on that person he saved?

He hated that his face didn’t even have the sense to look pale at the idea. He looked healthy. Probably better than he usually did. Even the circles under his eyes weren’t as noticeable. Were Mom and Dad right? Was he just...more of a ghost now?

Sam and Tucker don’t buy his ‘couldn’t figure it out’ explanation. Mostly because he refuses to try it again with them along to help figure it out. Even as he grows cold and more lurching keeps gnawing at his attention. He’s human too, he doesn’t need...whatever this is.

Sam kindly tells him he’s being a gigantic idiot.

He’s too distracted by the chill to notice. Tucker explains that after he’s blinking confused at the corn chips bouncing off his forehead. They laugh it off. He’s pretty sure they’re just being nice. They know something’s wrong, but he can’t bring himself to tell them yet. They wait. For now.

He ignores the feeling. He tries to ignore the guilt, that he knows someone out there is in danger. That someone out there needs his help. That all he needs to do is walk out of class and he can go do some actual good. He can’t go chasing after everyone in town. Things happen! He’s just one person! The sooner the lurching in him figures that out, the better. It still ruins his focus, makes him grit his teeth and fidget in place. He wants to go, he doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t even know what he wants. For it to stop. That would work. The tugging stops halfway into his next class, the frost in his blood lifts. It leaves him empty. Starving.

Everything tastes bland. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Even his favourites barely seem worth the effort of snagging off a table. He’ll eat, he can’t have Mom and Dad looking at him like Sam and Tucker are now, but it just feels heavy in his stomach. A brick he’s decided to try digesting for fun. He’s hungry, ravenously so, but doesn’t want anything.

He knows exactly what he wants and hates himself for it. Stupid ghost half. He doesn’t need that, he doesn’t want to be some...leech. Seeking out trouble just to benefit from it. It’s wrong, he hates it, and if he could grab his core and slam it on the table for a few hours he would. Just until it remembered that they helped when they could. When it was close by, when it was a ghost problem. Not every bit of danger in town!

Misplaced aggression goes to the nearby ghosts. Which it often had,  really. It’s normal. He’s just making sure people don’t get hurt, ignoring the humming of MINE coiled in his ectoplasm. The other ghosts feel it. They hear it when he hunts them down and wants to keep swinging even when they put claws or hands up in surrender. He doesn’t trust himself to banter with them right now. He doesn’t want to hear the words his ghost side wants to say. He shoves them back into the Ghost Zone, and the smarter ones stay away. A stronger ghost is already feeding here. There’s nothing for them to take.

He’s running on autopilot. Days are meaningless. He can’t focus in class, his notes are nonexistent and his patience is beyond frayed. He can’t sleep, the cold is too much, the emptiness hurts and fewer ghosts show up. He can’t even blow off steam by kicking the Box Ghost through a wall. He won’t follow it, and he’s fairly sure it’s going to kill him. That or his parents will. Even they have to notice how he barely eats and won’t focus on anything short of a horn section in his face.

Sam and Tucker sit him down. Force the issue. They know he’s a mess. They don’t have answers. How could they? His choices are to starve this ghost instinct out, or to just give into it and completely ruin his human life. He’ll be fine. It’ll stop eventually if he keeps ignoring it. Then he’ll be able to focus again. It’s all he can cling to.

He’s stubbornly ignoring the prickling awareness of other thoughts. Ones not from his brain. Ones that get louder when the lurch grips him, that practically overwhelm his own as fear and panic grows. Maybe he’s just gone a little off the deep end. He doesn’t hear voices. He refuses.

Jazz has her concerns. That he can’t ignore it. She knows more about Mom and Dad’s research, more about classifications of ghosts. She tries to be gentle, nudging him to be aware that stronger ghosts were more...like a concept then an individual.

He doesn’t want to be some sort of ghost concept of problem solving. She’s worried he won’t have that choice. Some part of him already knows she’s right.

He seeks out Valerie. For help. She’s confused, baffled and suspicious. After all this time he spent convincing her he’s not evil, he’s begging her to call him that. To convince other people he is. To make them fear him and his help. He doesn’t want to be a hero like she is. He just wants to be himself, doesn’t want to hear the people begging for help when he’s trying to sleep.

She doesn’t understand, but understands one thing. He’ll feed on those who rely on them. She has to stop that, doesn’t she?

They fight, and often. He does poorly, lets her save people while his misfires cause damage and chaos. It makes him want to scream each time. Some of the thoughts and voices dim. Not enough. Too many are understanding, too many can see the regret and pain that wrack him with each failure. He’s always hungry. He wants to try again, but everything in him rebels against it. The ghost hunter avoids him. It’s ‘not a fair fight’. He’s ‘not himself’. His green eyes are more dead then they ever have been. He can’t maintain his legs.

As a human, all he wants to do is sleep.

Mom and Dad notice. He collapses and his eyes flare green when they try to help him. Just automatically sensing them as danger, against him, not someone that calls for him. They think he’s possessed, and he wishes they were right.

He half considers not telling them the truth. Let them think of a way to let his ghost half quiet down, to stop hungering for validation he doesn’t want.

Jazz tells them before they can do much of anything. Pinches his ear for being stupid- that getting experimented on won’t help him.

Their hugs make him feel bad. This should be a good moment, a time where he feels safe and accepted. But his mind is not his own, not with the others whispering in his skull. Their warmth and love feels like a drop in the empty barrel of his hunger.

They want him to be healthy. They want him to be happy. He can’t be happy if he needs to abandon his life to be healthy. He tries to explain it, the emptiness, the voices (Jazz cuffs him again for hiding this, which seems fair.) and they promise to try and figure out why, maybe find a way to limit it or separate himself from whatever connection his ghost half seems to have made with the town. Until then- they encourage him. To go ‘help’ people. To feed the clawing cold taking over his existence. He’s not sure if they really mean it. It doesn’t stop him from listening.

It’s hard to feel guilty when it feels so good. To have the fear quiet and be replaced with thanks. Someone’s out of danger and happy, and he feels less hollow for a time. Mom and Dad switch him to home school. They say it’s a better fit, to be able to stop and start based on when he’s not being dragged away by his own instinctive need to protect people.

It feels like giving up. Admitting he’s too much of a freak to live like everyone else. Dad tries to compare it to his special classes when he was young. Different to fit his learning style, not failing. The pulls and voices aren’t nearly as distracting when he’s full. Food actually tastes like more than sand again. Sam and Tucker don’t need to try as hard to smile now that he isn’t looking like death warmed over. He doesn’t like not getting to see them as often. He can’t deny he feels better this way, and can actually pay attention now. Even if most of the time he just wants to nap when the hunger stops. Go ‘back into hiding’ as the town thinks he does.

It’s getting better. Slowly. Not in a way he wanted it to. Better nonetheless.

[goldeneyedgirl]

jaliceweek20 day 1: human/vampire

Title: Against A Wall (Part 1)

Prompt 1: Human/Vampire

Word Count: 3,851

Note: I’m going into hospital tomorrow, and I’ve run out of time to get this finished (so, so close but I need sleep). So I cut it in half in the most logical place. 

As long as the JaliceWeek Mods don’t have an issue, I’ll finish off Part 2 and upload the whole fic to the AO3 collection around Tuesday when I’m feeling human and have a decent Wifi connection.

Fifteen.

He crouches behind Dewey’s Bar, spitting blood onto the pavement, and trying to pretend that whatever is seeping into his jeans is just water, and not runoff from the reeking dumpster beside him.

It’s Tuesday night, and Tuesdays are always the worst. Tuesdays are his mom’s night shifts at the VA hospital. Tuesdays are pay-day. Tuesdays are the only day his father doesn’t pull his punches.

His left cheek and eye are swollen and split, like overripe fruit. He can’t see real well, and the taste of aluminium foil in the back of his mouth makes him suspect another fracture around his eye.  

But was it really a Tuesday night if cerebral fluid wasn’t leaking into his mouth?

He feels bad that his mother is going to walk in at five the next morning, exhausted, to find… well, to find Hettie and Flo asleep in Ava’s bed, as Ava studies and worries. To find Jasper’s bed empty, and Lydia’s too. To find the study door locked, no matter how long she knocks.

In fact, the only thing that Louise Whitlock won’t find when she gets home from work is the god-damned strength of will to leave her fucking husband.

Last time he said that to her face, she started to cry, and that made things worse.

It’s still early, which sucks. There are hours to go until it is safe to move, to drag himself to school, to shower in the locker rooms and get some food out of the vending machine and savour the fact that another Tuesday is behind him. Sheldon isn’t big enough for the other students and the teachers not to notice the bruises on his face, but it is small enough that everyone knows Jeremiah Whitlock, and no one is going to say anything to get him in trouble.  

He could go find Lydia, hide in the tree-house, tell someone who wasn’t family or a local. But he always ends up behind Dewey’s. When he was a kid, it hadn’t just been a bar; it had been been Dewey’s Bar and Grill, and his grandfather used to take him there for fried chicken and ice cream. Dewey had been his Grandpa Jed’s best friend, but even in those halcyon days it hadn’t exactly been family-friendly.

It had become a dive bar sometime around the time Jasper finished middle-school, but it didn’t matter - by then, Dewey and Grandpa were dead, and he was too busy trying to protect himself and his sisters to eat ice cream.

He spits blood again, and rests back against the brickwork. Nothing for it; Tuesdays were always hell.

—

He tries to sleep, amongst the noise of passersby, and remain unnoticed - Jasper’s learnt the hard way that his uncles still frequent Dewey’s, and they will march him straight back home for round two, no matter what he says. Even when he came up with the strength to tell them, about Lydia and Jerry and Tuesday nights, his uncles just tell him to shut up, man up, and maybe Jerry wouldn’t have to whoop his ass.

He thinks of Lydia and hopes she’s somewhere warm and clean tonight. Lydia’s smart enough to stay away on Tuesday nights. Home is never Lydia’s first port of call any night of the week, but never, ever on Tuesdays.

He remembers the last Tuesday night she was home, two summers ago, when Lydia stormed upstairs, a twelve-year-old hurricane with fire in her eyes, and called their father a coward for beating the shit out of Jasper.

Jeremiah Whitlock hadn’t liked being called a coward. Not at all.

Now she is transient, a ghost sister who vanishes at day break; one who bunks down on couches and in treehouses before coming back to her own bed. Their mom and Ava worry about where Lydia gets her money, cigar-sized rolls of dollar bills that she keeps in a tampon box, but he knows.

He knows that his sharp and pointy little sister never let anything stop her, least of all hard work, and that a lot of people in town know that Jerry Whitlock has a lot of anger and a lot of disappointment that he tries to drown in cheap beer and cheaper whiskey. It just makes him angrier. If the only thing they can do is give Lydia Whitlock some work, well, that kid’ll cut the grass, paint the garage, and walk the dog for a few bucks and a drink from a spigot.

It’s easy to say that Lydia is the best of them, making it clear that she doesn’t need their shitty father or their tired mother, but they are all strong in different ways. Ava, who smiles and simpers at their father, waiting for that day when she can buckle Hettie and Flo into her car and take them with her to college in Houston with a middle finger raised in the air. Flo stays quiet, stays alert, darting and hiding when the moment comes, but whose slight of hand belongs to a survivalist magician. And sweet little Hettie, who never lived on the ranch and knew their parents when they were happy, is sunshine and laughter and innocence. The one that reminds them why they stick together.

He’s the boy, so his role is obvious and unquestioned: he takes the punches and slaps and kicks that were meant for their mom, for Lydia, for Flo. He mutters things under his breath so that Jerry doesn’t hear what his sisters are saying, forgets that Hettie is sniffling or that Lydia hasn’t been home in ten days or that their mother has burnt dinner.

He knows his place.

—-

If you asked anyone with the surname ‘Whitlock’, they’d tell you that the family was cursed.

Had been since the Civil War; the youngest son had run off and joined up. Tried to desert two months in, crying for his momma, and ran afoul of someone - or something. He was dead a month later, but no one was exactly sure if he’d been executed for desertion, or if he’d just got in the way of a Yankee bullet. Either way, his last letter was rambling and terrified of something he never named, and his cowardice was rewarded with his bloodline’s constant suffering.

Within the Whitlock family lore, the curse was held accountable for numerous failings - from great-great grandmother Edith running off with one of the Wilkerson boys, to little Brian dropping dead as a doornail one summer day after seven years of perfect health. It was the Whitlock Curse to blame the day the bank took the ranch away from Jasper’s own father.      

It was the curse that had four and a half strapping brothers (Uncle Wyatt only counted as half since he went to the war in the Middle East and got himself blown up before he was even old enough to drink, and left behind a high school sweetheart with a bouncing baby girl they all called ‘Puddin’) father fifteen girls, and only one lousy boy.

Make no mistake about it, Jasper was a lousy heir to the Whitlock name. All three of his uncles reminded him of this every holiday season. Whitlock men were supposed to live and breathe the ranch, were supposed to be football players and champions. They were meant to knock up the head cheerleader and serve eight years in the army, like their brothers, fathers, uncles, and grandfathers before them.

Not snivelling little momma’s boys, who cried themselves to sleep when Sirius Black died, and could charm the birds from the trees. Not boys who helped their sisters catch rabbits, and keep them as secret pets, or name the house cat Socrates. Not boys who sat up all night when their horse had colic, and sit in the stable with her, begging and praying for her to be okay.

He tried, goddamnit. So hard. He was the best shot in the family (something that Uncle Bo had nearly hit him over, that one Thanksgiving. But everyone knew that Bo had the worst temper in the family.) Before things went to shit, he’d been a good student. He’d been able to convince the animals on the ranch to do anything. He was popular, without having any particular friends or putting much effort into it. He took care of his sisters.

But none of it was ever good enough.

Nothing ever was.

—

It’s Roy Lester that chases him off, before six the next morning. Roy runs the grocer next to Dewey’s, and went to school with his father and uncles - still had beers with them ever so often. The way he threatened Jasper and chased him off home whenever he caught him in the alley made Jasper think that they talked about him, and none of it flattering.

So he has to slink home because he stinks and he’s starving. The security at school won’t let anyone in before seven; he’s tried before; it’s not like he has much choice.

In a town like Sheldon, everyone knew everyone. You started kindergarten with maybe twenty other five year olds - most you probably already knew - and spent the next thirteen years with those same kids. You watched Maude Montgomery transform from the aesthetic-equivalent of Danny Devito to Jennifer Lawrence in a single summer, thanks to a late brush with puberty; you were right there when Casey Atkinson was put in a wheelchair and spent seventh grade learning to walk again. You knew that Ariel Turner was diabetic, Marley Harris was asthmatic, and you’d seen thirteen years of peanut-free lunches and birthday parties because Joey Thompson was highly allergic.

The joy of small towns.

Everyone knew that Jerry Whitlock hit his kids and his wife, but no one talked about it - not to their faces, at least. The adults tended to march Jasper home, to face his father’s wrath. The kids tended to get uncomfortable, and look through him. The few people who tried to reach out were from out of town, and were usually passing through - the odd teacher, a new neighbour, a concerned face on the bus.

Better to go home until school opened up.

Louise is in the kitchen, her face pinched and pale, clutching a cup of coffee. She looks hopeful when he walks in, but seems to crumple in on herself when she sees his bloody, swollen face. She looks old as she puts down her mug, and moves to pull him into a hug. He pretends not to notice her shuddering, as she cries onto his shoulder, before pulling away.

“I’ll make breakfast,” she manages, sniffling. “Okay? You must be hungry.”

He grunts and nods, as he heads upstairs. As if scrambled eggs and burnt toast can fix another Tuesday night.

But Wednesdays are good - the longest possible time until another Tuesday night.

He just has to keep telling himself that.

—

Seventeen.

Another Tuesday behind Dewey’s, but this time he’s puking up the few mouthfuls of food he managed before his father hauled him out the back - only because it was his mom’s week off and they were having a big family dinner. Louise resented those mid-week dinners; after a long day at work, having to make dinner for twenty-three people, and somehow find enough plates and chairs was the last thing she wanted to do. It was the only time Lydia would cross their father’s sight line, skinny and defiant.

If it had been a normal dinner, Jerry wouldn’t have dragged him out of the house. He would have beat him in the kitchen, yelling over Hettie’s sobs and Flo’s screams, and Louise’s pleading. He’s had a serving platter smashed over his head before, as well as a beer bottle, and a ceramic pitcher - one that had been made by Grandma Lillian, and Louise had sobbed over those broken shards.

His head is spinning, and he can’t remember exactly what he said to incite his father’s rage, though he remembers Uncle Bo’s jeers when he tried to stand up. The previous week’s wounds have reopened, and are bleeding onto his last decent t shirt. There’s vomit and alley-juice all over his jeans, and he wonders if he should drag himself to the hospital because his world is still spinning.

He wonders what will happen if he dies tonight; if Roy Lester finds him here in the morning, cold and dead. Most of the cops in town are from old families, and they’ve taken Lydia and Jasper back home enough times to know what goes on. It’s easier to picture the cover-up, that they’ll blame him and a make-believe schoolyard fight. Just a tragic accident.

Maybe then someone will help Lydia, help all of his sisters. Maybe it’ll be the thing that makes his mom leave.

He falls asleep facedown in the alley, and wants to cry when he wakes up the next morning to the bellow of school kids heading to the bus stop.

He was so goddamned close to it all being over.

So close.

—

“Do you need some help?”

It’s another Tuesday night, one that has come with busted ribs and possibly a dislocated shoulder. He missed lunch because of an English project, and his father had been drinking early, so he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. It’s making him feel sick, and wondering if anyone will notice if he sneaks in the back door of Dewey’s and grab some food.

And then someone is there and talking to him.

Her voice is high and sweet, and he expects a high school girl, maybe a sorority sister.

She is neither.

She’s only as tall as Flo, with uneven black hair curling around her cheeks. She’s one of the prettiest girls he has ever seen, with huge amber-coloured eyes that remind him of Hettie’s dolls and Lydia’s manga. She’s wearing a ragged button-up over a ruffled mini-skirt and leggings, with boots that look a size too big, a heavy man’s watch that hangs from her tiny wrist, and an ancient looking cadet’s cap - the entire effect makes him think of Oliver Twist as a female circus performer.

She walks over to him, and crouches in front of him, her head cocked to the side like a bird’s. He can only stare; other than the dark smudges under her eyes that speak of many sleepless nights, she is beautiful.

“Are you okay?” she asks, looking worried.

“Yeah,” he croaks, and winches as he jars his ribs. He doubles over, and cries out. She reaches out towards him but backs off just as suddenly.

“You’re hurt,” she says, looking bewildered and frightened. “Where?”

“I-It’s okay,” he manages, trying to reclaim his dignity in front of the prettiest girl. “I’ll be fine.”

The girl huffs. “Ugh, boys,” she mutters. “Hold on a second.” She gets up and slips out of the alley before he can beg her not to get help. In reality, going to the hospital is the last thing he should do - they can’t afford the bill, and  they’ll call home and… no. Just no.

His head is spinning, so he finds it hard to tell how much time has passed, but eventually she returns. She’s clutching two bags, and marches right up to him and crouches back down.

“This will help,” she says, holding out painkillers and a bottle of water. He fumbles with the lids of both, but eventually swallows the pillows down. She watches him carefully. “Don’t drink too fast,” she advises. “Now, I can put your shoulder back in now, or we can wait. It’s up to you.”

He blinks at her slowly. “Now,” he decides.

“Okay,” she looks nervous, but moves forward. It’s all blurry in his mind, but there is something cold, then hot, angry pain, and then he’s blinking up at her again. “Sorry. But trust me, the worst is over now. At least I didn’t break it worse. Hungry?”

He blinks as she reaches for the other bag - a bag of Skittles, a packaged sandwich, two oranges, and a bag of potato chips. He’s not sure if he has a concussion or it’s an odd selection, but he’s also hungry enough that he doesn’t care.

“I nearly had to call Bella, to ask what to get - Edward never let me buy her food after the chicken incident - which was entirely Emmett’s fault - but I think I figured it out okay,” the girl jabbers, taking a seat beside him, and smiles at him. “Better no one knows where I am, anyway.”

“I… thanks,” he croaked, as he reached for the sandwich. She beams at him again, and then frowns.

“Eat, then we’ll finish patching you up. I’ve come too far to watch you die in this disgusting place,” she stretches her legs out in front of her.

The sandwich is dry, but he wolfs it down - an orange too, before he takes a breath - that hurts - and takes another look at the tiny girl beside him.

“Who are you?” he finally asks, and she looks up from her watch.

“Oh! I’m Alice,” she says. “Sorry, I forgot you didn’t know. Do you want your ribs taped now, or are you going to open those?” She points to the Skittles.

“Um, I…” he looks at the bag of candy. “Do you want some?” This feels like a fever dream; maybe he’s passed out and this is just what his banged-up brain has provided him with.

“No,” she shakes her head, and the cadet’s cap tilts a little on her head. “I can’t. They just looked nice. Happy.”

“Happy,” he echoes, looking at the red package.

“I hear that sometimes little things can help,” Alice says. “Come on, cowboy, take that shirt off and let me see those ribs.”

His side is mottled black and blue and purple, and moving in basically any direction is a new adventure in pain. Alice gasps at the sight, and then coos at him in a way that is oddly comforting as her fingers trace his ribs - the coldness of her fingers is actually wonderful against the pain. Then comes the painful stage - as she, not entirely gently enough, begins layering tape over the pain, his head is spinning.

“All done,” Alice says, and her voice is soft, and when he slumps against her shoulder, she doesn’t move away. She smells like old fashioned things, like roses and linen. It reminds him of the old family homestead. He finds his eyes closing, and his side aches in time with his heart, and then Alice’s gentle fingers are running through his hair.

“Sleep, Jasper,” she murmurs, “I’ll keep watch.”

He’s asleep before he realises he never told her his name.

—

She’s gone when he wakes up, and the Skittles are in his pocket - along with the painkillers. Happy.

It’s Wednesday morning, and it’s not exactly ‘happy’ he’s feeling, but he’s got candy in his pocket and time to go home for a shower and more food, so Alice was right - the little things do help.

—

She never turns up two Tuesdays in a row, but he does see her again. She’s always more prepared than the first time, with a bag that always seems to contain exactly what they need - in his less lucid states, he is reminded of Mary Poppins’ magic carpet bag as she produces snacks and first aid kits, and even clothing.

Her attempts at first aid are, at best, rough and she accidentally breaks two of his fingers and nearly ends up in tears when he yells in pain, and hugs him so tight, weeping into his neck, that he ends up trying to comfort her.

Sometimes he sleeps. She’s so thin and tiny that her shoulder isn’t a good pillow, and he feels like a shit man, letting such a tiny girl keep watch behind a bar. It wouldn’t take much to break her, and he can’t defend anyone in this state.

But some Tuesdays, he falls asleep anyway, breathing in that scent of fresh roses and linen, and listening to her chatter away about people he doesn’t know, about places he’s never visited, about books he’s never read.

Alice sounds like she’s living a really nice life. One week, she quizzes him on his Spanish before his examine the next day, and her accent is flawless. When her phone buzzes and buzzes and buzzes, and she ignores it, she usually swears - he doesn’t know in what language, one of the Eastern Asian ones he thinks - but it’s definitely a swear.

He wishes he could see her, talk to her, out in the real world and prove to her that he’s not just a beat-up kid. But she’s always gone on Wednesday mornings, and he doesn’t even know how to contact her anyway.

All in all, he met Alice in the reeking alley behind Dewey’s with a concussion, broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder, and now she’s the best friend he’s ever had in the world.

He’s getting closer to that ‘happy’ concept that she mentioned the first time they met.

—

The last time he sees her, he’s bleeding and he’s pretty sure his eye socket is fractured. He’s pissed with himself because he wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, to stop his father from going after Flo. So he’d thrown a punch at his old man  for the first time because Flo is his baby sister and all haunted eyes and he’ll never forget the sounds of her wailing after the belt struck her, but hitting the bastard back just fuelled him and … fuck.

Then Alice is there, in jeans with stars on the knees and a billowy purple top that is just opaque enough to obscure the skin underneath. She looks angry and frustrated, and doesn’t just sit next to him and open her bag like she usually does.

“It’s a stupid fucking decision you’re about to make,” she stamps her foot, “and I am so mad at you right now, but Carlisle and Edward have made me promise not to interfere. Carlisle says that everything I’m doing now is enough. And I’m already in enough trouble, honestly.”

He can taste foil again - definitely a fractured eye socket.

“What?” he manages, snappish and tired. He doesn’t need this. He wants sweet Alice, who helps him patch himself back together, and gets him food, and talks him to sleep. The one who makes him laugh, even when it hurts, and seems to be light-years ahead of him but that’s okay because she’s always so happy about whatever she’s telling him.

“I’m going to say this once,” she enunciates carefully, still glaring. “I will be here every Tuesday. Don’t make a dumb decision. There is always another choice.”

“You’re making less sense than normal,” he retorts. “Either help me, or go away - I’m not in the mood.”

“Happy freakin’ birthday,” she snaps, unbuckling her giant watch, and throws it at him before she storms back the way she came, leaving him behind.

[it-fits-i-ships]

I took inspiration from a post by @the-stove-is-on-fire and wrote this oneshot (below the read more link) about an AU in which Spideypool adopts Danny and Jazz Fenton and the sheer chaotic energy of Danny and Wade’s dynamic threatens to drive Peter insane. Just in time for Trans Day Of Visibility too!

Danny Fenton sat next to Great Aunt May on one of the plush blue couches in the living room. Wade, who sat on the far side of the couch, had wanted to get leather seating but Peter, who sat between Wade and Danny, had insisted on inventing a new stain-proof fabric because Wade couldn’t be trusted not to make a mess. On the other couch were Jazz, Grandma Pepper, Aunt Morgan, and Grandpa Tony, who was lifting a wrapped box toward Danny.

“Happy birthday, kiddo!” he said.

“Thanks, Grandpa!” Danny said, eagerly ripping open the paper to see what treasures lay within, “Oh awesome! I’ve been wanting to play this game forever! I didn’t even think it was out yet!”

“It’s not,” Grandpa Tony said, “I pulled some strings.”

“You’re the best!”

“There’s one more thing,” Grandpa Tony said, pointing toward the box.

Danny dug further into the tissue paper.

“A key?” Danny asked.

“It’s a key to your birthparents’ house,” Grandpa Tony said, “They were good friends of mine and when they died I bought their house and maintain it so you and Jazz could go there when you were old enough,” he paused and looked around at Peter, Wade, and Jazz, “I already talked it over with your dads and Jazz and we figure since you’re 14 now it’s time to give you the option to go there.”

He looked between Grandpa Tony and his dads, then at Jazz.

“Have you gone there yet?” Danny asked.

“No, I wanted to wait until we could go together,” she said.

“Can I have some time to think about it?”

Peter placed a hand gently on Danny’s shoulder.

“Of course, son, take all the time you need,” he said.

That night, after the party was over and the guests had gone home, Danny lay staring up at the ceiling. His thoughts raced around in his skull like the spinning blades of his ceiling fan so that just when he thought he had caught one long enough to get a good look at it he would find it had flown from his grasp. Of course Danny had known he and Jazz were adopted. Peter and Wade had been very upfront about that. They had also made sure Jazz and Danny knew they were loved and wanted. Danny would be lying if he said he had never been curious about his birth parents. He didn’t know or remember much about them, and some part of him had always wondered where he’d come from, but Peter and Wade had been so good to them he never really felt like he had been lacking for anything.

When Danny was 10 he came out as trans and they had immediately put him on puberty blockers, switched to his new name and pronouns, and gotten him a haircut. Peter and Wade had never cared about clothing so even when Danny was young they had let him pick out “boy” clothes, which meant he didn’t have to get a new wardrobe when he came out. Jazz and their dads had Danny’s back during his social transition, correcting people when they used the wrong name or pronouns and defending him when people tried to tell him he was just going through a phase. Danny really couldn’t have asked for a better upbringing. So do I really need to know more about my birth parents? He thought.

Just then, he heard a soft knock at his door. He turned to see Jazz standing in the hall outside his room.

“Hey,” she said, “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he said, sitting up against his pillows.

“How are you doing?”

“Just trying to process.”

“I get that,” Jazz said, “It took me a while to wrap my head around the fact that our birth parents’ house is still intact, that we can actually go there and find out about them.”

“Do you remember them?” Danny asked.

“Not much,” she said, “I was only 4 when they died. I think they wore jumpsuits a lot?”

“Jumpsuits?”

Jazz shrugged.

“It was 12 years ago, I could be misremembering.”

“I don’t know if I want to go, Jazz,” Danny admitted, “Part of me wants to find out more about them but we already have parents, you know?”

Jazz sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Listen, Danny,” she said, “I’m not going to tell you what to do or how to feel. If you decide you don’t want to go to the house I’m not going to make you, and neither are Peter or Wade. This is your call. I want to go eventually and if you want to go then we’ll go together but if you don’t that’s okay too. I can always go with Peter or Grandpa Tony,” she paused and pulled him into a big hug, “Take some time to think it over so you make the right choice for you and then let me know what you decide when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Jazz,” Danny said, leaning in return his sister’s hug.

“Any time,” she said, standing up, “I’m going to bed. Make sure you get some rest too, birthday boy.”

Danny nodded absentmindedly.

“Goodnight,” he said.

“Goodnight!”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Danny stood, key in hand, in front of a house that simultaneously felt vaguely familiar and vastly alien to him. There was a large bunch of tech on top of the house that looked like some kind of UFO and a huge light-up sign that read “Fenton Works.” Who the hell were these people? Danny thought. After a few agonizing weeks he had decided to come learn what he could about his birth parents and Peter had agreed to drive them to the old Fenton residence. He didn’t break his gaze from the house as he felt Jazz take his free hand in hers.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” he said, stepping up to put the key in the door.

The three of them walked into the living room, which Danny immediately noticed had purple walls. On the far wall was an opening to a bright green kitchen.

“Wow,” Jazz said, “They had some, uh, interesting tastes in interior design.”

“What until you see the lab in the basement,” Peter said.

“The WHAT?!” Danny and Jazz said in unison.

“Why is everyone in our lives some kind of scientist or science experiment?” Jazz asked.

“Or both, in Grandpa Tony’s case,” Danny added.

Peter shrugged.

“Just lucky, I guess.”

“What did they even do here?” Danny asked.

“They were inventors. They used their tech to hunt ghosts,” Peter said.

“Ghosts?” Jazz said incredulously, “Really?”

Peter nodded.

“So they were crazy,” she said.

“They preferred to be called ‘misunderstood geniuses.’”

“Sure, geniuses on a mission to catch Casper.”

“Jazz,” Danny interjected, “Our dads have super powers, Wade is constantly breaking the laws of physics, Grandpa Tony has personally met aliens and deities, and you’re hung up on ghosts?”

Jazz raised her finger and opened her mouth as if to counter his argument but then, seeming to think better of it, she lowered her hand and closed her mouth as an annoyed look overtook her face.

“Let’s look around some more,” she said.

“Can I go down to the lab?” Danny asked.

“I want to look up here first,” Jazz said.

“Can I go look around by myself, Dad?” Danny asked, turning on his saddest puppy eyes.

“Okay, okay,” Peter said, “Just be careful. Don’t touch anything and put on one of the jumpsuits so you don’t accidentally get anything on your clothes.”

“Awesome!” Danny said, already searching for the staircase to the basement.

He quickly found it, descended into the drab gray laboratory, and slipped into one of the jumpsuits hanging on the wall as per Peter’s request. The lab was lined with consoles that had glowing panels and various buttons and switches, counters and tables covered with all kinds of lab equipment from microscopes to complicated networks of flasks and tubes, and a very cluttered work desk covered in noted, equations, and diagrams but the thing that really caught Danny’s attention was the massive metal archway on the far side of the room. It sat open and he squinted to try and make out what was inside. It appeared to be the entrance to some sort of tunnel. Couldn’t hurt to take a closer look, he thought.

Carefully, Danny crept into the dark tunnel. He could hardly see anything in the dim light. What the hell is this thing? He thought as he walked distractedly forward with his hands out in front of him. Before he could contemplate the structure further, his outstretched hand ran right into something small and round. The thing gave a click, a pit forming in Danny’s stomach as the tunnel lit up like the 4th of July with swirling green shapes he couldn’t identify. The light seemed to pass right through him and he felt as much as heard the scream that ripped from his chest as every atom of his being burned.

The next thing he knew he was on the floor outside the tunnel. He awoke to someone shaking him by the shoulders.

“Danny!” Jazz cried frantically, “Danny, please get up!”

He sat up slowly and clutched his aching head with a groan, only to give another when Jazz threw her arms tightly around him and forced the air out of his lungs.

“I thought you were dead,” she said.

“What happened?” Danny managed.

“I don’t know, kiddo,” Peter said, “But you might want to look in a mirror.”

“What?”

Peter and Jazz hoisted Danny up so he could see his reflection on the shiny glass screen of a large monitor on the wall. Oh shit. His hair had turned a stark white and his once blue eyes were glowing the same radioactive green that had filled the tunnel before he had lost consciousness. What the fuck? He thought, his panic rising exponentially as he leaned on the monitor with one hand to get a better look at himself. Suddenly, he was falling forward and his face smacked into the glass.

“Danny!” Jazz called.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, reaching out to steady his son.

“I think s–”

His train of thought was completely derailed by the sight of his forearm, or lack thereof. He wiggled his fingers and clinched his fist. He could still feel his hand. Is my arm…invisible? He thought.

“Danny,” Peter said gently, “I think your panicking is making things worse. Look right at me,” he paused as he oriented Danny’s shoulders so they were facing each other, “And a take a deep, slow breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth,” he paused to demonstrate the technique and waited for Danny to copy him, “Good, one more time,” he paused for Danny’s breath, “Remember when you were 5 and Aunt May asked you to help her pick a puppy?” he asked.

“Yeah?” Danny said, torquing his eyebrows in confusion.

“There were so many,” Peter continued, “How did you know you picked the right one?”

“Donut was the only one who came up to give both of us kisses,” Danny said, “And he fell asleep in my lap. I thought he seemed like a good dog for Aunt May.”

As Danny thought back to that childhood memory he felt a strange tingling all over his body, like everything was shifting ever so slightly. He looked down and he could see his arm again. He snapped his head up to look back into the glass monitor, where his reflection showed his natural black hair and blue eyes.

“I’m back to normal!” he said, “How did you know that would work, Dad?”

“I freaked out really hard when I first got my powers. I ended up stuck to a wall with no idea how to get down. It wasn’t until I took a second to calm down that I was able to unstick myself. I figured it might be something similar with whatever that was,” Peter said.

“Do you think that’ll happen again?” Danny asked.

“Probably,” Peter admitted, “But for now I think we’ve all had enough excitement and we should head home. I’ll bring you kids back here later if you want,” he paused and looked directly at Danny, “With thorough supervision, of course.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Danny held his head in his hands, quite literally. He had finally mastered the trick where he could stretch an invisible bit of his body from his neck to the base of his head so it looked like his head was no longer attached. His two years of training had really paid off. Peter and Wade, and even Jazz, had helped him master his powers but he had been cooking this one up in secret for the express purpose of ghostly shenanigans. Jazz was away at college and Peter was still out for the day. Which means my first victim is –

“Hey, Danny,” Wade’s voice came around the corner as he approached the living room, “Did you eat the last pudding cup?”

“Maybe.”

“Bruh! I totally called dibs on that o–” Wade paused, taking in the scene before him, “Danny, what the fuck happened to your head?! Ugh! Peter’s gonna kill me!” he added.

Danny stuck out his tongue.

“I’m fine, just a little,” here he paused to toss his head into the air, “Lightheaded!”

“You little shit, that was beautiful!” Wade said, pulling a small throwing knife seemingly out of nowhere and chucking it at Danny.

“Dad, what the hell?”

“I’m not ‘Dad,’ I’m Deadpool! I’m here to eat pudding and throw knives,” he paused, lowering his voice, “And I’m all out of pudding.”

He threw a barrage of knives at Danny, who nimbly dodged the projectiles and lobbed a pillow from the couch right at Wade’s face. Each knife lodged itself into a different part of the couch as Danny fired off multiple blasts of ghost fire.

“Hey, Siri, play the Ghost Busters theme. I’m going hunting,” Wade said, brandishing the pillow and another knife at Danny.

Just then, they heard the front door open.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” came Peter’s voice, “There was a thing I had to take care of on the way home –”

He froze at the sight of his husband and son sparring in the living room, his handful of groceries seemingly forgotten.

“Danny started it!” Wade said quickly.

“Deadpool, you fucking snitch!” Danny called, pointing an accusatory finger at Wade.

“Language!” Peter said.

“Yeah, Danny, watch your fucking language,” Wade said, giggling under his breath.

“Wade!”

“What?”

Peter sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in a circular motion.

“All right,” he said quietly to himself, “So the new couches need to be stain-proof, knife-proof, and fire-proof. You two are in charge of putting the groceries away.”

“Did you get more pudding cups?” Wade asked hopefully.

Peter looked him dead in the eyes as he extracted two packages of pudding cups from one of the bags and tucked them under his arm.

“No,” he said, “Now go put this stuff away and clean up this mess,” he added, gesturing toward the living room.

He turned and headed, pudding still in tow, to his study.

Wade wiped away a single tear as the pudding vanished from sight.

“Oof,” said Danny.

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 11: Villain - Sinners Are We Chap. 1: I’m Kinda Glad That You’re Evil Too

When Danny goes down, so does everyone else. Including one Valerie Gray. And Dan couldn’t be happier.

Danny Fenton’s life had gone to shit and it didn’t take long after for Valerie Gray’s to follow right behind. Like Danny, she had lost her entire genuine social circle. All the other kids at school certainly weren’t friends of hers that’s for sure. And when Danny went with Vlad? Both of them seemed to just disappear in the wind.

Honestly? She was furious he hadn’t taken her with them. Wasn’t she practically family? Didn’t both of them value her? Vlad said time and time again how proud he was of her and how important she was to him. Danny had loved her once, and had stayed a strong friend after. Yet they both left her behind to rot. Danny, she could forgive, he had lost everything and nearly died; but Vlad? No. Sure she had her dad, but their relationship was strained at best, toxic at worst. He hated what she did and was meek. While she had a violent streak a mile long and loved to fight ghosts. Combine that with all three of her only friends and the one man who supported her vanishing in the aftermath of a fiery explosion, and she became a walking bomb of anger and resentment.

School didn’t help either, none of them gave a damn about the trio after the initial shock and gave even less of a damn about her. If anything, she became the new target for the torment all three had faced. Difference was? She hadn’t been about to tolerate that. Which eventually lead to a quick and unpleasant expulsion due to repeated and violent fights. Her shattering Dash’s knee had been the breaking point for the sports-obsessed school, and she couldn’t have been happier.

Screw the lot of them.

And what was she going to need schooling for anyway? She was a hunter. Now she was free to do that without the distraction of school. Which only led to her feeding her aggressive side. To her fighting more and more. Which her dad was having none of. Because then she had been around him more too, and that led to more fights. Which, her father put his foot down on after she threw a lamp through their stupid thin walls. So that left her out on the streets, with the only family she had left telling her to stay the Hell away. It was at that point she started to resent people more than ghosts.

Because what had ghosts really taken from her? Nothing at this point. Sure that damn dog had got her dad fired and ruined her clothing. But it was humans who abandoned her as a ‘friend’ and ‘family’. It was humans who had harassed her at school and sneered at her on the streets. It was humans who were the mean ones.

The treatment of her as the huntress didn’t help things either. Jack and Maddie, though strange and even dangerous, were likeable and friendly. Red was not. Especially since her grieving tactics seemed to involve taking things a little too far more often than not. She had been stupid proud the first time she managed to actually destroy a ghost, but the first time she did that publicly? The town reacted with nothing but abject horror. Crucified her as a murderer and danger to society. They didn’t reject her though. Of course those pricks didn’t, they needed her. She was the only line of defence against the ghost onslaught.

And eventually she decided: you know what? Screw this whole fucking town. You can all burn for all I care. And stopped giving even an ounce of a damn about bystanders or damages. She was just here to fight, that was it. End of story. If someone died in the crossfires then that wasn’t her problem. These people didn’t deserve for it to be her problem. Fuck every last one of them.

Then her ‘father’ really screwed her over, revealed who she was. The girl behind the mask. And all Hell had broken loose. People would cross the street to avoid her, which only pissed her off. The motel was suddenly perpetually full and any place that could get away with refusing her service did. Eventually, she had to resort to petty theft and death threats just to get a decent meal.

She was absolutely done. Done with this damn town. Done with the stupid people in it. Done with humans. At least a ghost she could pound the crap out of. And they, the ghosts, respected and feared her for it. Good. And she’ll let those ghosts destroy that stupid town, it was retribution as far as she was concerned.

And that’s when she met him again, as she was walking down a deserted road away from the only home she’d ever known and one that had scorned her. And he had looked different. In a way much similar to her. Less friendly. Less kind. Less helpful. Actually...

He had looked like a monster.

All sharp fangs and claws, forked tongue and flaming hair. Red eyes. He couldn't fool a blind man into thinking he was ‘good’ with the way he looked then. Add in the deeper voice as if puberty was a thing ghosts experienced. And the really stupid thing? The first thought that had popped up in her mind was that he was kind of... hot. Which was ridiculous. And she remembers the conversation they had then. Him floating down to stand on the ground with arms crossed and a mean smirk across his face.

“Well if it isn’t the Red Huntress”, quirked a mocking eyebrow, “come looking to hunt me down?”.

She had rolled eyes, “hardly. Unlike the others you aren’t pathetically easy to beat the shit out of”.

That had gotten him to more genuinely raise his eyebrows in slight surprise, “oh? And what if I just so happened to be on my way to Amity? What would you do then, little hunter?”.

She had known that was a threat instantly, she hadn’t known just how serious of a threat it had been though. “Ha, like I care. Raise that miserable place to the ground for all I care”.

He had actually laughed at that, loudly, and uncrossed his arms to shrug exaggeratedly, “well I’ll be. Wasn’t it your ‘sworn duty’ to protect them? That town and it’s people? Whatever could they have done to change your mind”, he had actually looked slightly impressed then, “you are impressively stubborn after all”.

“Hmmm, let me make a list. Oh wait! I don’t care. Those people are dead to me”.

“Oh? And what of ghosts?”.

She had stared at him for a bit then, though had never been able to figure out what the fuck his angle was. “Punching bags that talk back. Might have destroyed a few. What’s it to you”, she had scoffed, “not like you like ghosts either”.

He had laughed again, almost sounding like a cackle, “fair enough, Huntress. Can’t say I haven’t destroyed a few myself”, then smirked and leaned forward menacingly, “what if I said I killed Vlad? Or your dear sweet little Danny”.

She had scoffed, not believing him for a second, “that’s bullshit and both of us know that”.

He shrugged and leaned back, “hardly. Though fine, I just blew up the guys mansion. Didn’t bother confirming any corpses”.

She had squinted at him, the nonchalance had made it clear that he was being honest that time, “yeah well, that man can rot too. He turned his back on me, so fuck him. Fuck people honestly. And what? Did ghosts finally tick you off enough to want them obliterated. Join the fucking party”.

He had smirked and laughed, the smile had been honestly charming; not that she admitted that at the time. “No. I just want to see everything burn, roast marshmallows in the flames, and dance in the aftermath”.

“Well that’s ghostly of you, Phantom”.

He had rolled his eyes very exaggeratedly, “it seems you’re no different”, he had walked close and gotten his face in hers, “so who’s the ghostly one here? Seems you’ve turned your back on your kind. And here you’re supposed to be the ‘good human’”, she swore he purred then, “you know, that almost makes me disappointed. You were always my favourite. Not like any of those other idiots stood a chance”.

She had huffed and refused to back up from him, “agreed. And I don’t think I even have to point out you were my favourite target”.

“And now?”.

She glared at him, “those people have done worse to me than you ever have. I told you, screw them”, and smirked a little, “what? You gone deaf over the years?”.

He had tilted his head back and laughed loudly again, she hadn’t remembered him ever laughing that much or smiling that much. “Damn!”, and looked to her with that stupid cocky smile, “in that case, want to watch it burn together?”.

She had squinted at him more, “what are you playing at”.

Phantom had just rolled his eyes and walked past her, “as I told you, you were always my favourite, Red”. And wasn’t that a mindfuck?

She had turned her head back to watch him walk, looked back to the direction she had been going, and then made a decision that would change everything.

Screw them. Fuck them. This was just. This was what they deserved. They were going to burn and she was going to enjoy the flames.

She had turned on her heel and stalked after him, determined anger in her eyes and a small mean smile on her face. He had looked back to her, at the sound of her footsteps, and full-on cackled before grinning wild and malicious.

In another time, Amity Park would have been the last town standing. Heralded by a hero standing against her long time enemy. But this time, the charred twisted mess of debris, blood, and guts was the spark that started the fire that would set the whole world ablaze. Brought about at the whims of a duo with stained hands twined together doing the waltz across the remains; grinning and laughing all the while.

[cheshire-kas]

Ectober Day 1: Fangs/Shatter

[[MORE]]

When Danny had nightmares nearly every night about his secret identity coming to light, none of them went like this

He had been so wrapped up in everything with Vlad and his parents that he hadn’t taken the time to really even think about any of the kids at school. Dash had been bullying him like usual — asshole — and Danny, instead of taking it, or whatever it was he normally did, he had hissed at Dash. Like a freak. Or like a ghost. Dash had dropped him instantly and backed up a step.

Of course, at the time, Danny hadn’t thought about it for more than a second before he was scrambling off and out of his arms’ length. It was only when Sam and Tucker had said later how ‘cool’ it was that Danny even realized what had happened. He freaked out, naturally, but Sam and Tucker both reassured him that it had been fine and it wasn’t like anyone was gonna catch on to his secret from that.

Except maybe they were wrong. It seemed like every which way Danny turned, the popular kids were all staring at him and whispering. Including Valerie. That was the part that really had him on his toes. That Valerie had apparently been accepted back into the fold of the A-Listers. Paulina over the past couple years had gotten a lot more smart than she used to be. Or maybe she had always been smart and Danny had never noticed? He wasn’t sure. They all knew that Star was practically like a secret genius, but it was like Paulina had that same knowing look in her eye. Even Dash had stopped bullying him. Something had to be-

Danny’s thought process was interrupted when he bumped into something or someone in the hallway, and he was forced to take a step back to regain his balance and assess the situation. “Hey, Fenton, sorry about that.” Wait. Hang on. Dash was apologizing to him?

“No problem,” Danny said slowly as Dash picked him up and set him on his feet properly, brushing his shoulders off with a nervous smile before he was turning around and walking away.

Tucker was at his side, staring after him. “Dude. What did you do to Dash?”

“Nothing!” he quickly defended himself, turning to his friend and glancing in Dash’s direction. “At least… Nothing I remember. Sam?”

“Beats me,” she said with a shrug, watching Dash make his way back to Kwan. “Maybe he just finally realized how stupid this whole clique system is and how in five to ten years, you’re going to be the one signing his paychecks.”

Right. Sam was never much help when she got into her anti-capitalistic-society moods. He was… still kind of friends with Valerie. “Maybe I can ask Valerie.”

“If you’re sure, dude. Valerie’s been acting… different, lately,” Tucker told him, pointing to where she was at her locker with her Red Huntress gadgets out in the open, talking to Paulina and Star.

Danny grimaced at that thought. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right. I don’t know… It’s really weird. I don’t think I like it.” Tucker jabbed him in the side, causing Danny to wince. “Dude, what was that for?”

“Danny, your ghost fangs are out. I saw them just now when you made that weird face.”

That immediately had Danny put a hand up to his mouth, gently feeling his teeth and realizing that Tucker was right. “What the hell?” He used the same hand to cover his mouth. “How long have they been-”

“I don’t know, man,” Tucker told him, shaking his head as he and Sam helped rush Danny to the bathroom so he could see for himself in private. “I just noticed it just now.”

Danny cursed as he stormed into the bathroom, scaring Mikey into running out. First Dash was scared of him, now Mikey?! He peered into the mirror- Yikes. That- Yeah, he could see why that might scare someone. His fangs were out and proud for anyone to see, and his eyes that used to be so blue… They were starting to turn green, even in his human form. This was not good. He didn’t feel any of his ghost powers active, so why were any of his ghost powers bleeding through?!

“Shit,” Danny said aloud, running a hand through his hair and realizing that strands of his hair were turning white. “Shit, this is not good,” he murmured. He knew that his ghost form had grown fangs recently, and he knew that after the accident, it was like he was finally hitting puberty, but how the hell did that manifest itself into his ghost form bleeding over into his human form?!

He just… He just needed to be really careful. Play up more of the weak, nerdy Fenton, and maybe they wouldn’t really figure anything out. They were just a little freaked by the fangs. That was it. It wasn’t like they knew that he was turning into Phantom, but…

Looking back in the mirror, it was like he didn’t see Daniel Fenton or Danny Phantom. He couldn’t tell who was staring back. His eyes glowed a bright green for a moment, the color completely overtaking-

He heard more than saw the shattering mirror as he bent his head down to stare at the sink. He was turning into some kind of monster.