#i was so excited to work on the Daniel ghost fic and maybe start posting this weekend | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

escelia · 1 year ago

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DP x DC PROMPT/FIC

Gotham Portal

(If you get the notif for this post like 2 days ago, no you didn't! I wasn't done yet! You were imagining things!)

Where the story takes place in Gotham instead of Amity Park, the Fentons having moved before the construction and testing of the Ghost portal due to the high saturation of ectoplasm in Gotham. So, Danny's accident ALSO happens in Gotham, except he has no support system at all.

Enter the Bats stage left!

Danny couldn't believe he'd been so stupid. His parents had uprooted their whole life to move to Gotham. They said they'd need all the ambient ectoplasm there for when they built their portal. Jazz had been thrilled! After all, Arkham was a shining beacon of mentally ill people, and Jazz was like a psychology moth to a flame; it would be the perfect place for her internship after college.

His parents had wasted no time assembling the portal from their blueprints in the basement of the run-down apartment building they'd bought outright just on the edge of Crime Alley, complete with the Ops Center parked right on top. They'd gutted the place and completely redone it before they moved in. (Danny had no idea when they accomplished that. Maybe they'd been planning it for a while and only thought to tell their children two weeks before moving day.) He was genuinely surprised the local vigilantes hadn't stopped by yet to ask questions.

But anyway, back to how he was royally screwed! He'd just wanted a cool picture for Sam and Tucker now that he'd moved away. His parents weren't home (they'd gone back to the hardware store after their last test), Jazz had stayed after school to try and butter up her new teachers by running a study group, and he'd been alone. He'd even followed all the safety precautions his parents had told him about! He'd put on the hazmat suit and tried not to touch anything. But he'd tripped.

Through the whirling of green and the static buzzing in his ears, he remembered screaming, though he hadn't recognized it as his own. Every nerve in his body was on fire, and he just wanted it to stop. Stop, please stop, why won't someone save me, please!

He woke up to the smell of burning flesh, but he woke up. He was okay! Disoriented, a little disgusted by the smell and throat a little raw, but okay!

At least he'd thought so at first.

He'd begun to... change colors? And float, he floated sometimes, too. But the most irritating of all was that he would go through things. Forks and glasses slipping, quite literally, right through his fingers.

He hadn't told his parents. He'd been fine, after all. A little shaken up, but they'd been so excited he'd gotten the portal to work, who was he to put a damper on the mood when he was fine?

That brought him to now, staring at the mirror in the school bathroom in horror. He'd fought his first real ghost that morning around breakfast. He'd kept it together fairly well, in his opinion. Got through three whole classes before making an excuse to the teacher, slipping off into the blessedly empty restroom.

He'd been getting better and better at controlling his form, and he transformed in front of the mirror, taking stock of his appearance.

Odd colored hair: check.

Bright glowing eyes: check.

Floaty hair: check.

Could walk through walls, disappear, and fly: check.

He raised his finger to his pulse point and felt... nothing.

"I died," he whispered to himself in shock. "I... died," he repeated, this time in despair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian Wayne was not usually one to keep tabs on his classmates. They weren't his friends, therefore he saw no point. However, the new kid, Daniel Fenton, had begun to act strange.

When Daniel Fenton enrolled in Gotham Academy it hadn't been anything special. He'd started the year a little last due to his family moving, but families moved for all sorts of reasons. He hadn't tried to immediately make friends with Damian like so many others had, much to his relief. But he hadn't tried to make friends with anyone else, either. Maybe he liked to be alone? It really wasn't his business.

But then the boy started getting skittish and clumsy. Clumsier than he had been when he started school. He'd developed a miniscule tremor in his left hand, so he'd probably sustained an injury. He began dropping things in Chemistry. So often, in fact, that he'd been banned from doing practical labs and was instead assigned extra book work.

If Damian had been anyone else, if he hadn't been raised by assassins or had his night work as Robin, he wouldn't have noticed. He wouldn't have followed Fenton to the bathroom under the guise of needing to see the school nurse for a headache. Perhaps if he were anyone else, Fenton might have noticed him following.

There was an alarming flash of light as Damian peered carefully around the corner. Fenton had changed forms. Something had happened to him.

"I died," he heard him say. Damian thought he was being dramatic until he watched him raise his fingers to his pulse point. His glowing eyes dilated in panic, and he repeated himself. He watched as his classmate, looking fragile and lost, curled in on himself floating in the air, and sobbed.

Damian didn't confront him that day. He watched, waited, and researched. He found the research of Dr's Fenton on ghosts and ectoplasm, most of which he was skeptical of up until actual ghosts started to torment them during patrols.

Ghosts were real, it appeared.

He also concluded that their findings on ectoplasmic entities being non-sentient and inherently malevolent was incorrect, having met the ghost of a little girl caught up in a rouge attack that killed her and her family.

Damian watched Daniel Fenton for about a week while he ditched class in a poorly hidden effort to fight and contain the ghosts that he and his family were having such a hard time dealing with. His father was even nearly considering contacting John Constantine, which was never his ideal solution. Damian had been rolling an idea around in his head for a while and he decided now would be the time to bring it up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner at the manor was more of a full table than Damian had expected. Not everyone was there, Jason's relationship with them was still a bit strained, so he was not in attendance, and neither was Stephanie. But Duke was home, and Dick was actually there early for patrol later. Tim was there, and so was Cass, so almost everyone.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat politely. "Father, I wish to recruit a new member."

The chatter around the room came to a halt, the clatter of silverware ceasing.

"What exactly do you mean, chum?" Bruce asked carefully.

"I have a classmate I believe would be a valuable asset in light of our trouble with ghosts recently. However, he has no training or support, so I'm asking for your assistance."

"Did... demon brat make a friend?" Tim asked bewildered and a little bit terrified.

"Tt. No, I've never even spoken to him." Damian rolled his eyes. "My classmate, Daniel Fenton, transferred to Gotham Academy about a month ago and started acting strange soon after. He came to school with a tremor and a Lichtenberg figure you can just barely see starting on his left hand and traveling up his arm. I believed he'd been in an accident, and my suspicions were proven when I saw him use meta abilities to ditch class and fight a ghost in the courtyard of the school. From my observations, they are newly acquired, but he has decent instincts and an inclination toward heroism. I believe it would be safer for everyone involved if we approached him first."

"What?" Tim muttered. Dick was smiling gently at him, though, as if he were doing something he was proud of.

"Do his parents know?" Duke asked. Damian scoffed.

"I highly doubt it."

"Wait, Fenton as in the ectobiologists?" Bruce asked. The ex-assassin nodded.

"And considering their research is not reflected in our own interactions with ghosts thus far, I do not believe we should tell them."

"Not safe?" Cass signed. Her brother shook his head.

"The abilities I've observed resemble that of a ghost. He even has an alternate ghostly form."

The implication that they'd be endangering him hung heavy in the air. They'd all seen the Fentons' research. It mostly consisted of theoretical analysis and blatant biases with a long list of proposed experiments they'd run if they ever caught one. They'd all agreed that the Fenton ghost hunters were not a viable option for their ghost problem, especially after seeing how they drove, which in itself nearly put them on the Bat's rogue list.

"We've been meaning to investigate the Fentons properly anyways," Dick pointed out.

Bruce attempted to massage a headache out of his temples. The stuff his kids stumbled into, really. But Damian was right. If his classmate was a new meta with no support, it was only a matter of time before the rogues zeroed in on him, and since his family lived there, he couldn't tell the kid to leave.

"I'm not saying yes just yet, but talk to him. Find out any more that you can."

"Of course, Father."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny finally felt like he was getting the hang of his ghost powers. He was pleasantly surprised, and also mildly horrified, that his parents' inventions actually worked on the ghosts he was now beginning to fight regularly. His favorite was by far the thermos, which did no ghost mutilating whatsoever.

He discovered he had a ghost sense and enhanced hearing and vision, which was cool and all, but now he could hear all the shitty things his classmates said about him behind his back. Which, rude! He didn't even talk to them, what did they have to be shitty about?

He also noticed that one of them, Damian Wayne, had been watching him. From what Danny had heard, Damian was the richest kid in school, a Wayne. Son of billionaire Bruce Wayne, to be exact. And his attitude reflected that. His standoffish, holier than thou rich guy attitude made Dash and Paulina look like they lived below the poverty line. Apparently, he generally didn't talk to anyone at school unless it pertained to class, so Danny saw no point in introducing himself.

That made it extra weird that Damian was following him.

It was right after lunch when a hiccup had a cold breath tumbling from his lips. He raised his hand and asked his teacher if he could use the restroom. He made his way to the bathroom on the other side of the building this time, hoping it would be too out of the way for Damian to follow. But soft rustling of his classmate's school uniform gave him away, no matter how imperceptible his footsteps were.

When he entered the restroom, he made his way to the sink instead, splashing some cold water on his face as Damian walked in behind him loudly as if announcing his presence.

"I know what you've been doing," he said confidently, crossing his arms and standing in front of the door so Danny couldn't leave.

"Oh, hey! Damian, right? I'm in most of your classes, but I don't think I've ever introduced myself. I'm-"

"Daniel Fenton, I know. You've been fighting ghosts." Damian had to give him at least a little credit; he'd become a great actor over the last week. Though, that probably had a lot to do with the fact that he probably didn't feel safe at home anymore.

"My parents are ghost hunters, but I don't think shooting a ghost in the face with a lipstick laser then running for my life counts as 'fighting ghosts'."

"Tt. You are lying."

"Dude, what are-?" Danny cut himself off when his words came with another misty breath. Crap! He'd taken too long!

The ghost of the day, an ugly, mutated, bird looking thing with claws at the ends of its wings and a full set of dangerous, pointed teeth, phased through the door behind Damian, poised to strike.

Without warning, Danny grabbed Damian's wrist and whipped him out of the way, throwing himself between the two. A green shield formed in front of him just as the bird slashed at them with one of its wings.

"Well, that's new," he said startled as the bird geared up for another attack.

Danny groaned at his miserable luck before throwing caution to the wind and transforming. He'd just have to force friendship upon one Damian Wayne in an attempt to keep him from telling anyone about his whole magical girl transformation. He tried to activate his shield again, but when nothing happened, he was flung across the room into the wall. God, this was embarrassing.

The next time the ghost tried to attack him, Damian yanked him aside in a dodge and bolted out of the bathroom with Danny in tow. He was dragged through the winding halls to one of the side exits of the school. In costume or not, Damian's priority was luring the ghost away from the other students.

"Hey, so uh, you won't say anything about this," he gestured wildly to himself, "will you?"

"Tt. Of course not, but I believe you have more important concerns at the moment."

“Right!” Danny patted at the sides of his hazmat suit. “Crap, I left my thermos in my locker!” He dodged another attack and retaliated with an ectoblast, trying to keep the ghost's attention off of Damian as much as possible.

"Your lunch? Really?" Damian shouted. Dang, Danny must have been doing a decent job if Damian had the spare time and attention to be exasperated with him.

"No! It's a containment device! Besides, ghosts are basically soup anyway!"

"Distract it," Damian instructed, "I'll retrieve the device." The boy took off. Danny had to wonder how he even knew where his locker was. The ghost tried to follow him, but Danny shot another blast at it.

"Hey ugly, auditioning to be one of Gotham's Birds? Sorry, but you don't really look the part." He had no idea if the creature could even understand him, but the way it turned to him and lunged again suggested it had done the trick. This time, his shield did work!

Danny could have cried tears of joy at finally having some consistency with it. The next few minutes of the fight felt like an eternity while he dodged and shot ectoblasts at it. The creature wasn't really that strong, and it didn't seem to have super dangerous abilities like some of the other ghosts he'd fought like Skulker or Technus. It ended up being a great opportunity to practice his new shield ability, actually. But he knew the longer he took, the more danger his classmates would be in.

The bird ghost slammed into his shield with a particularly vicious strike, slamming him into the ground and creating a small crater.

"Note to self, remember intangibility," Danny groaned.

In that moment he noticed a door opening on the school building. It was Damian! He was finally back with thermos in hand! Unfortunately, the other ghost noticed too.

"Oh no you don't!" Danny yelled, latching onto one of its feet as it tried to fly toward his classmate. He dug his fingers in hard and sunk into the ground partway to anchor himself.

"Big green button by the lid then the button immediately below it!"

Damian wasted no time popping the lid open and sucking the ghost into the device, the lid closing with a quiet pop. He had to admit, though the design was questionable, it was sturdy, light, and very clearly effective. He wondered if he could get away with sneaking off with this one to have drake examine later.

"That was some incredible timing, thanks." The ghostly form of his classmate floated over to him, taking the thermos from his hand. Damian did not pout.

"We should probably get out of here before the Fenton's show up." He could already hear the screech of tires and his dad's voice over the megaphone tearing through the air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Don't worry honey, we'll catch that nasty ghost boy next time," Jack Fenton comforted his wife. True to form, the Fenton's had arrived to the scene late, and most of the damage to the school yard had been from their vehicle crashing into things upon their arrival. Parents had been called and classes ended for the day, which was how one Bruce Wayne found himself at Gotham Academy trying to help the teachers talk the two down from storming and searching the school.

His son was standing off to the side with one of his classmates. Dark hair, bright blue eyes, lanky frame; Bruce could have mistaken the child for one of his own, but looking between the hulking man in front of him and the kid standing next to Damian, the resemblance was obvious. That had to be Daniel Fenton, the meta his son had told him about. Which meant he'd been the one to deal with the ghost before anyone else had gotten there. The classmate Damian had suggested they recruit for his safety.

"Danno, did you see where that spook went? When I get my hands on him, I'll rip him apart molecule by molecule for even thinking of attacking your school!" Bruce saw Daniel's breath hitch with fear.

"Sorry, no. I was coming back from the bathroom when I saw him fighting another ghost through the window. I was scared so I hid," he lied, gripping his left wrist while he spoke.

Bruce was impressed. The boy's fear was real, and he used that to his advantage to really sell the lie to his parents. His heart ached for him. He couldn't imagine seeing any of his boys looking at him like that, with such fear and distrust.

"That's okay sweetie, we'll get him next time. We're just happy you're alright. Let's get you home," his mother comforted, though Bruce knew it wasn't very comforting at all.

"Yeah, we'll teach you to use the Fenton Bazooka," well that was horrifying, "that way next time you can just blast him!" Danny wanted literally anything else.

"Actually," Damian interrupted politely. "We were assigned a project in class earlier on the history of Gotham. As Daniel is relatively new to town, I offered to assist him with the assignment. Father, would it be acceptable for him to join us for dinner?"

Bruce would have been incredibly surprised his son was inviting someone over for dinner if he didn't see exactly what he was doing. Daniel wasn't safe at home. And he clearly wasn't comfortable with the way his parents spoke of the 'ghost boy'. If his defeated expression was anything to go by, it hadn't been the first time they'd said something like that, nor would it be the last.

"What do you think, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton? We'd love if Daniel could join us for dinner."

"Please, call us Maddie and Jack. That sounds wonderful Mr..."

"Wayne. Bruce Wayne, I'm Damian's father," he introduced. If the two recognized the name, they didn't show it. It worked out rather well in his favor.

"Mr. Wayne. If its not too much trouble, that would be wonderful. It's about time he made a new friend, he's been sulking since the move. Now, we have a ghost to catch!" Maddie planted a kiss on Danny's forehead, leaning her blaster on her shoulder as her and her husband made their way back to the homemade assault vehicle parked haphazardly on the lawn of the school.

"Be sure to call us if you plan on staying the night! We'll let Jazz know she doesn't have to worry about dinner for you! We love you, have fun sweetie!"

"Are they always like that?" Damian asked after the two had pulled away. How had those two even gotten their driver's license? It was truly abysmal, he dreaded the thought of anyone getting into a vehicle with them. And then there was the speed in which they'd dumped their son into their laps, even suggesting they'd be okay with him not coming home that night.

"They mean well, but yeah," Danny replied, heaving a sad and defeated sigh. "Thank you, by the way. For inviting me over, even if you didn't mean it. They can be a bit much."

"Clearly," Damian mused back.

Bruce watched the two interact and felt pride well up in his chest. Meeting the Fenton parents just once was enough to convince him that their son needed help, maybe even their daughter too. That Damian had taken the initiative to bring this to his attention, that he had stood up for Danny and offered his home as a sanctuary for him, made him so incredibly proud as a father. He wasn't as prickly with Danny the way he was with other people, even his own siblings. That was a very good thing indeed, considering it was looking more and more likely this would end with another adoption.

Maybe Clark was right, he did have an adoption problem.

#danny phantom #batman #dp x dc #danny fenton #damian wayne #fanfiction #AU where the portal opens in Gotham #batfam #it would continue with different version of the event of danny phantom #featuring new Gotham Ghosts :D #Vlad's introduction would be at a business meeting with WE #I'd redo the timeline so that Danny gets his ice powers and wail early #the lunch lady episode is her giving damian shit for being a vegetarian/vegan #jason would be there for the time travel shenanigans #the waynes would be at the zoo when danny discovers new info about an endangered species :D #the climax of the story would be danny's fight with pariah dark and end with him being the new ghost king #i also love the idea of danny helping tim look for bugs in his tech by going into it #of course there'd be a hero training montage #yes i did write this instead of working on my other stuff :D #this is BARELY edited so ya know #no beta we die like danny

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justsomerandomfanfic · 2 years ago

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Fanfics Coming Soon - 5/6/23

(Requests are closed for the time being)

I will be starting to work on the fics listed below, along with my Superman/Clark Kent X Reader Series.

The times of posts may vary. Also, Fanfic Fridays will have fewer fics, not as many as the usual four, but there will be consistent fics every Friday. The fics below will be posted on whatever Friday of the week that I've finished writing the said fic. (Ex. If I finished writing a fic on Wednesday, it'll be posted Friday, etc.)

Fics Coming Soon:

Superman Fic - Waiting For Superman - 1/10 or more chapters (possibly) - Slight angst/Fluff - Coming Soon

Erik Destler X GN Reader - Mini Angst/Mostly Fluff - Modern AU; A deep voice sings each night, a haunting song unlike any you've heard at the recording studio where you work the security nightshift. Each night, you listen and fall in love until one moonless night you seek its origin, finding a handsome ghost, Erik Destler, who wishes he had tasted true requited love before death stole him away.

Richard Grayson X GN Reader - Slight Angst/Fluff - Meeting The Family/Engaged; Newly engaged and beyond happy, your fiancé, Richard Grayson's preparing to bring you home for the holidays to meet his family for the very first time. So far, the two of you have had an idyllic relationship, but the true test will come when Bruce and the many, many siblings come into the picture and dredge up the past.

Pedro Pascal X Female Reader - Slight Angst/Fluff - Hades And Persephone AU; With the power of spring and flowers, you enjoy the wonders and beauty of nature. Wandering out of your home and beyond the borders of your kingdom, you stumble upon a dark wood, and curiosity got the best of you. You got lost, of course, having never been in the forbidden woods before. In the shadows, you spotted a figure, who walked out, dressed in dark clothing. He was tall, dark, mysterious, and incredibly charming. And when he offered you a pomegranate, you couldn't say no... After all, you were pretty hungry.

Jack Daniels X Female Reader - Slight Angst/Mostly Fluff - Royalty/maybe 1800s Regency period AU; As the youngest of seven sisters, you are told to wait your turn for marriage, but you can't help but fall for a handsome gentleman, Lord Jack Daniels, who comes to town on business. You decide to pursue him even though your mother has been eyeing him for sister, Adelaide, number five.

Harry Osborn X GN Reader - Mostly angst, Slight fluff - Vampire AU; You used to be in love with a vampire, Harry Osborn. But you were just eighteen, and your emotions were running high, and didn't really know any better; letting your admiration and love for him engulf you. You broke it off with him before you left for college. But, after a while, you noticed people were going missing, blood drained from bodies in alleyways on campus... And your new boyfriend had gone missing as well. You had a theory on what... Or who was causing all the havoc, and it was time to grab your wooden stake and end it once and for all... You just hoped you could resist his irresistible charm.

Johnny Storm X Female Reader - Slight Angst/Mostly Fluff - Single Mom AU; You're a single mom who works two full-time jobs to make ends meet. The new manager, Johnny Storm at your second job asks you out on a date. He's hot, kind, and perfect, but your son hates him and shows that in many humorous ways. Will love blossom or wither under your son's disapproving gaze?

Comment down below which you're excited for. ;)

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echoghost1 · 4 years ago

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What's In A Name

okay, this took me longer than I expected... but here is the fic based on this post

Title: What's In A Name

Summary: Danny thought that having a sub in class would make things easier. Unfortunately, this leads to everyone finding out that his first name isn't Daniel.

His class isn't taking the news very well.

word count: 1670

you can read it on AO3 or down below the cut!

Oh, and I guess I'll tag the people from that post: @spookberry @shinygoldstar

Danny had just gotten to school and was getting his supplies for first period when Tucker ran up with way more excitement for this early in the morning.

“Dude, you’re never going to believe it!”

“Believe what?” Danny asked with an amused grin.

“Lancer took a sick day since the first time in forever!”

Danny felt like he was missing something.

Tucker rolled his eyes when Danny didn’t react correctly, “Subs, man. We have subs.”

“In all of his classes?” Danny asked as the news finally sunk in.

“Yup.” Tucker said with confidence as he popped the ‘p’.

“I have so many classes with him.”

“I know dude, me too!” He wrapped his arm around Danny’s shoulder, “Which means that today is going to be a breeze.”

Danny smiled and couldn’t help getting excited about a nice easy day at school.

================================================

His first class was easy.

The sub seemed just as tired as they were and simply checked that they were in their assigned seats and handed out a worksheet for them to do.

Once the teacher made it clear that they didn’t care if they worked together or not, it turned into more of a hang-out session than actually getting much work done.

================================================

His second period was science which he didn’t have with Mr. Lancer so he actually had to pay attention.

It was a lab day and he was still banned for life from handling all fragile school property, so the lab they had was a bit difficult until the teacher remembered (was reminded) and let him team up with Mikey.

All he had to do was take notes on what was happening. Which was fine. He could do that no problem.

All Mikey asked was for his handwriting to be legible.

================================================

It was his third class that ruined everything. It had all been going so well until then.

The teacher had decided to ignore the seating chart list and did roll by reading off the class roster list on the computer. Which in theory would be fine, except that the computer list didn’t have the notes that Mr. Lancer had added over the year, things like nicknames for instance.

It would have been fine if she had called him Daniel. It would have reminded him of Vlad, which would have been annoying, but manageable.

Unfortunately his first name isn’t Daniel.

“Johnathan?”

Everyone perked up at the name. They looked around, confusion evident on all of their faces. There was no Johnathan in this class. No John or Johnny’s. Was this a secret classmate? It couldn’t be, all the seats were full and no one here was Johnathan.

The teacher sighed and tried again, “Johnathan Fenton?”

Danny perked up and raised his hand, “Here. Sorry. I just um, everyone calls me Danny. Or Daniel, or just Fenton.” he realized he had been rambling and apologized again.

He looked down at his desk still embarrassed that he sort of forgot his own first name for a second. Then he felt like he was being watched.

He looked up and realized everyone, but Tucker, who was too busy chuckling to himself, was staring at him with varying degrees of confusion and anger. Sam included.

The class said nothing. Only stared for the remainder of the roll call.

Once the teacher was finished, and before they could truly start class, Dash was the first to break the silent tension. “Your name is Johnathan?!”

“Yes?” Danny answered hesitantly as he leaned away from the angry jock. Normally Dash wasn’t much of a threat anymore after all the ghost hunting, but he couldn’t exactly use his powers in the middle of class.

“Since when?!”

“Birth?”

“No!” Dash countered.

“Look, I’m named after my dad and it’s too confusing if we both go by the same name, so we just use my middle name instead.”

“But your dad’s name is Jack.”

“Which is short for Johnathan,” Danny explained with a sigh.

Dash sputtered in confused annoyance. Apparently, he didn’t know that either.

Before he could get too angry about his lack of knowledge, the teacher made it clear that they were going to start class now.

Dash glared at Danny and pointed an accusatory finger at him, “I don’t believe you, Fenton.”

“Okay?” Danny shrugged it off and the rest of the class went back to ignoring him.

Except for Sam.

She was still glaring at him.

“What?” Danny mouthed not a hundred percent sure as to what his gothic friend was upset about.

She flipped open her notebook hard enough for the paper cover to slap against the desk and furiously scribbled something down before tearing out the page and quickly folding it like a ninja star and chucking it at his head.

He carefully unfolded the note and read it.

“Are you serious?! Is this some elaborate prank?”

Danny looked up to Sam in surprise and then back to the note.

“No really. That is my name.” he wrote before trying his best to fold the note back up as she had it. He really wasn’t as good at it as she was.

She wrote her response quickly and made a point to get the creases of the folds just right. “Then why is Tucker laughing?”

“I don’t know? I’m not a mind reader Sam.”

“Did he know?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He didn’t really understand why she was so upset by this. It didn’t really matter. Did it? “I wasn’t keeping it a secret. I just forgot.”

“Forgot what? That it was your name or that I didn’t know?”

He hesitated too long and Tucker finally snatched the note from him and read it over before snickering to himself and added his own two cents before tossing it back to Sam.

Finally, Sam smiled. With a roll of her eyes, she slipped the note into the pocket of her notebook and went to doodling like nothing was wrong.

Danny wasn’t really sure what that was all about, but he was glad it was over.

================================================

The rest of the day was mostly fine. His friends teased him about his full name occasionally throughout the day, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Dash kept giving him the stink eye, which was weird, but better than being shoved into his own locker.

Lunch was a bit of a disaster once Tucker let out his inner bookie and started holding bets on what Danny’s real name was.

There were three options.

One was that his name was really Daniel and he was just pranking everyone somehow.

The second was that his name really was Johnathan and he was telling the truth because Fenton can’t tell a lie to save his life.

While the third was that he had a completely different name and may or may not be related to the Fenton’s at all.

Danny wasn’t sure if he should be finding all of this hilarious or just plain annoying. Maybe it was one of those, ‘we’ll laugh about it when we’re older’ things?

Of course, word spread fast and everyone was trying to figure out what the real answer was. No one was asking Danny, because they weren’t sure if he actually was a reliable source. Tucker refused to give the answer until the end of the day when he would reveal the winners. And Sam admitted that all of the name nonsense was news to her, but since she loved chaos, she would wink and add, “But it could be true.”

Danny realized too late that the only other person to ask before the end of the day was his sister.

Before he could get to her, someone else beat him to it.

Dash had cornered her just outside of the library and asked, “What’s your brother’s name,” without any preamble.

Of course, Jazz, being two years older than them and in none of their classes, had no idea what had been going on. So she answered the question as best she could despite the confusion, “Danny?”

“Ha! I knew he was a liar!” Dash boasted as he turned around and punched his fist into his open palm as he eyed Danny.

“Wait!” He called out to Dash before turning his attention to his sister, “He means my first name!”

“Oh,” she turned to Dash, “Why didn’t you just say that?”

Dash’s shoulders slumped in defeat, “his name isn’t Danny?”

“His middle name is, but not his first name.” she turned back to Danny, “Didn’t you explain it?”

“Of course I did! He just didn’t believe me! And now the whole school is losing their minds because they think this is some crazy prank or that I’m a liar or something.”

Danny sighed and composed himself before giving the warning as he had meant to, “Tucker is taking bets on what my name is so other people might ask you about it too.”

Jazz hummed thoughtfully to herself while nodding, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You are going to tell them the truth right?”

“Of course,” she said but she still had that far-off look in her eye.

Danny figured he would probably regret asking, but he was just too curious, “what are you thinking about?”

“This is very interesting from a psychological perspective, don’t you think?”

“How?”

“Well by learning that what they assumed to be true, wasn’t, it has shifted their perspective on things.”

“Do you really think it’s that deep?”

“What do you think it is then?” she asked, not annoyed that her theory was being questioned, just curious.

“I think people just like drama.”

“Perhaps.” she said as she watched a dejected Dash walk away, “and maybe it’s a bit of both.”

“Whatever it is I hope it goes away tomorrow.” he walked away and wondered if this was a preview as to what would happen if his secret got out.

He stopped in his tracks with a sigh. No, if they found out he was really Danny Phantom it would be worse. So much worse.

#Danny Phantom #fan fic #my writing #inspired by another post #silly head canon

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kikis-writing-world · 3 years ago

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WIP Check-In

MiHello my dear followers! I know I’ve been MIA recently (aside from some random meme reblogs) but I’m hoping my life gets a little less crazy and I can make some room in my schedule for tumblr/reading/writing/etc. In anticipation for that, I’ve got a list and some info about some WIPs I have going. Please please please feel free to message about any that intrigue you - talking about them might help me get the gumption to write and/or we might come up with some new plot ideas!

Check under the cut and message me here :) Feel free to ask for more info or for sneak peeks at anything.

In no particular order:

Whiskey Straight (Jack Daniels x F!Reader) I promise I’m still working on this! My current plan is that I will rewrite what exists, finish the whole thing, and then remove what exists when I’m reading to repost. Once it’s done, it will be a weekly posting.

Untitled Professor Marcus Moreno smut Lord give me the motivation to finish this one. I’ve been working on it for so long and I think there are a lot of people on here who want to read about subby Marcus being such a good boy... It’s basically subby Professor Moreno getting his world rocked by his wife when she comes to visit him in his office. What more could you want?

Untitled Oberyn x F!OC x Ellaria, reincarnation multi-fic This story haunts me to the point where I’ve considered if I should create all original characters and try to publish it as an original story, but every time I’ve thought about taking Oberyn and Ellaria out of it, my brain just goes “nope, not happening then.” This could be considered a soulmate fic in some ways. The first half takes places in Dorne but then the second half is modern day reincarnations of the three characters, the universe bringing them back together again. The thoughts I’ve come up with for modern day Ellaria and Oberyn are just so much fun. (A fashion model who is starting to get recognized for her work, and her independently wealthy, untamable long-term fiance/agent.) It’s so self indulgent. It’s hurt/comfort, smut, angst, slow burn hopefully...

Attraction and Other Subjectivities 2 (Jonathan Levy x Reader) I’ve had ideas for a second installment of this fic since I wrote it. Mira gets involved, Jonathan gets pissy, reader gets hurt- it’s angsty for sure. Not sure yet if it gets a happy ending (or maybe a third part that has happiness? Hmm...)

Memories (Frankie x Ghost!Reader) I’ve been slowly working on this since last Halloween. I hope to have it ready for this year’s... Frankie loses his pilot license. Job hunting leads him to a graveyard shift - literally. He starts working as a night guard/groundskeeper for a cemetary. A young woman spooks him one night, and she disappears when he tells her no one should be inside... but she’s there again the next night, and the next- finally, he realizes she’s not “among us” and needs help to cross over.

Nose Art (Por Dameron x Reader) This is borderline crack fic, but it stems from the idea of the nose art/pin up girls that would be painted on old fighter planes. It essentially boils down to Reader posing for pin-up art and Poe being a big, big fan of it.

Catfished (Frankie x Miller!OC) Frankie meets Will and Benny’s little sister and they decide to mess with the older, overbearing brothers... but also, maybe it’s not just for the sake of her brothers? This is a meet-cute with the beginnings of feels more so than an actual romance.

Untitled Oberyn x Reader A/B/O Smut (possible Ellaria as well? Not sure yet...) This is smut. 100% pure A/B/O dynamics smut. Reader is mated with Oberyn and has her first Spring heat since the mating. I’ve always loved reading A/B/O but have never written it. I just know Oberyn would be a good alpha and would be able to keep up with whatever his omega needed. I’ve barely even started writing the smut of it, just the lead up, and I’m already loving the shit out of it!!!

There are more, but these are the ones I’m most excited about/been trying to work on lately. I’d love to chat with y’all about them!!

#Wookie Tales #WIP talks #WIP Game

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dickbaggins · 8 years ago

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please friends enjoy this lil teaser of what will be this year’s long fic, my novel from nanowrimo16. this is a wincest(iel? I haven’t decided but as I was writing, it took a distinct turn towards the threesome, I’m as shocked as you are) au with the Winchesters as archaeologist-hunters in 1910/20s Egypt. I’ve only vaguely researched this so if there’s any historical issues, that’s all on me. Within the week, I should start posting this for realsies, so it won’t be quite as rough.

The sky looked different, depending on where you were. If you didn't travel, you never noticed it. You saw one sky your whole life and maybe it was a pretty good sky anyway, so you didn't want for anything. But if you travelled, you knew the pang of homesickness a strange sky sometimes induced.

Dean Winchester felt like he'd been homesick since he was twenty years old. The sky in Newport never looked the same after he sped home from the docks. In a way, nothing felt real since then.

Of course, all the alcohol helped to keep the world at large to more of an unpleasant buzzing in his ears, around the periphery of his mind. Between that and work, ten years flew by with alarming speed. If he didn't stop to consider things, they fell away. If he didn't keep moving, he'd die. So move he did.

This appointment was in Egypt. That meant crossing the Atlantic, which he'd done at least once a year for the past decade. At least. The ships were better now than they used to be, catering to a different class of people. The Winchesters could no longer afford the opulence, the gold-laden dining rooms and the full serving staff but there was a burgeoning tourist class that made the ships all the more comfortable now.

Dean liked that better, anyway. They knew to leave him alone. They kept to themselves.

After that, train after train after train. He took in the sky out the windows, watched it change from big to narrow, to big again. Watched countless sunsets wink in and out of existence. He didn't keep a journal. For all Dean knew, it could have been months in those sleeper cars with his father and Bobby.

Their destination neared and Dean felt like he always did: a detached excitement at what new things they might discover, coupled with a vague, tense fear. People died on these expeditions. People got trapped under the Earth, people suffocated in centuries-old tombs. Sometimes Dean thought that wouldn't be so bad.

You'd be lauded as a hero.

You'd also be dead.

These were both pretty great.

At midnight, at the crossing of a border, the dining car lights dimmed and Dean made his slow shuffle back to the sleeper car. John snored quietly on the top while Bobby was still sat on the other bunk, books and papers spread out in front of him, dimly lit under the buzzing electricity.

“We're carrying on to Turkey tomorrow,” he told Dean. “So you alone are representing us in this excavation.”

Dean nodded blearily, undoing his tie, shrugging off his jacket.

“Your father has a few requests.”

Dean glanced up at the bunk and nodded again; this was how they communicated, these days, through a friendly intermediary, simply because it was easier. They wouldn't fight, that way. John Winchester got to hand down his decrees and Dean could only nod mutely and take them under advisement. Further to the verbalized rules, there'd be a letter set out for him tomorrow morning before he departed reinforcing all of these things.

Don't fuck up, was the general tone. Sometimes eased into don't fuck up too hard. It depended.

“This is an important post we've secured for you. Working closely with state officials is difficult to pull off. You'll be answering to Daniel and his lot. And working for them, you understand? They say jump - “

“I ask how high, yes, I've been farmed out before.”

“True, but not to these folks. They can be demanding. Not strictly treasure hunters, you know?”

Dean frowned, unbuttoning his shirt, laying it out carefully at the end of his own too-small bed. “Our kind of hunters?”

“In a way,” Bobby answered, his eyes sweeping over his papers for a nervous second before returning to Dean. “They have goals They have things they're specifically looking to find and if you're less than thorough and less than completely forthcoming in your findings? You'll find yourself at odds with them.”

“Which would then besmirch the family name even further. Understood.”

“Detailed notes, detailed drawings. At the end of every week, you'll meet with the head parties and discuss what you've found. Nothing is to be removed unless they tell you. Nothing is to be sold overseas.”

“So we're barely getting paid.”

“Experience is it's own reward,” Bobby sighed, and he didn't mean it anymore than John had earlier, Dean knew. They were all of them in a tricky situation and making the best of their skill set. “Send us copies of your notes, though. I'm curious as to what's actually going on.”

“Oh?”

That barely piqued Dean's interest; mild intrigue was something, at least, something more than dusting off old vases with a delicate brush.

“Last I heard, there was some set of magical demonic jewelry, though why a Pharoh would have that is beyond me. Rumor has it Daniel is after those things specifically. But being buried so long? It's either negated all that power or else charged it up something fierce. If you find it...”

“I won't, Bobby,” Dean sighed, slinging his legs up onto the too-small cot, folding his hands under his head and watching the lights flicker against the top of the empty bunk above him. So easy to imagine the four of them crammed into this private space, but there was only three.

And anyway, if it were the four of them? They wouldn't be nearly destitute and taking on jobs like this, whoring themselves out to lesser men for meager pay. If they were four...

No. They weren't.

“I won't find anything of value, I'm sure,” Dean sighed, “Not with how many other people working alongside me? The chances are slim I find anything at all besides dog bones and ancient wine vessels. The usual detritus.”

“That's the other thing, Dean,” Bobby said, voice low and serious, which made Dean look over at him; he scratched at his beard, shuffled his papers. “There's no drinking. It's forbidden by religion, so...if you don't want to raise the ire of your charitable hosts, you'll have to lay off.”

Dean's gut squirmed nasty, nervous already about the proposition.

“Is that why you're not joining me here? Is that why you and my father are moving on? I notice he's sleeping fairly content, got his fill before they turned the lights off, did he? Stowed something away in his baggage?”

“Now, son-”

“Don't call me that, please,” Dean sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. Had he known this was his last chance? He'd have tanked up in the dining car, beyond what he'd already had to drink. Which was a lot, by anyone's standards, but just enough to get himself to sleep. Hopefully. “I'm sure I'll manage.”

“There's coffee that'll make you see through time, if that helps.”

“That's sort of the opposite of what I'm striving for.”

“Well...there is opium, if you're really hard pressed to relax. I know how it is, Dean, believe me, I do. After everything you've been through, no one faults you and your father for your predilections. Least of all me.”

“Thank you,” Dean muttered, hoping this was the end, hoping everything else was covered in the letter he'd get later in his father's tiny, precise handwriting.

“Get some rest,” Bobby said, and that was it. All Dean heard of him until he dozed off were papers shuffling, notes being scrawled, the usual noises. He found them comforting, at least, if nothing else in the world was. And even that small kernel of home, he'd leave at the train station come morning.

It was hot. Dean knew it would be hot and he'd been through hotter but it seemed unreasonably sunny. Maybe it was just the day or the hangover he wouldn't be able to rid himself of. Although he'd found, when he unpacked, a concealed bottle of whiskey, likely from Bobby, stashed among his clothes. Here for three months, there was no clear way to ration it to last that long, unless he sipped a thimble-ful every night. And to what end would that help him?

It wouldn't.

Nothing would.

Although, riding carriage from the train station to the American hotel, he'd seen an opium den on every corner, not unlike saloons. Every place had a favourite vice. He was sure it'd be days before he started partaking. If not hours.

Dean didn't unpack.

He only had an hour to himself and he spent it washing and dressing again. He combed his hair in the gold-framed mirror on his dark-blue wall and stared at the spectre of himself there. He looked far from a legendary explorer. Far from carrying on his family tradition. He looked like a ghost and he knew that he was, that he had to be, or else why would he feel so empty?

There was a convoy out of town, set up for the first day of the expedition. The entirely of the thing took only another hour, so close that they had no need for tents or sleeping in the rough, which suited Dean just fine. No one could see him shaking, sweating and vomiting. The nightmares too; those were his and his alone, once again.

He shared an open-topped carriage with two other men and a small woman decked out in absurd clothing, heavy tweeds and whites that would get soiled within the minute. But she had a sly look to her face, like there were secrets there. She talked in low tones to the man beside her, dark haired and dark tanned but with blue eyes that glowed in the sun. He reminded Dean of a particularly unruly cat they'd had back in Newport.

Not even eight hours without a drink, and this was what his mind was doing.

It all fell away as they approached the site.

Dean had seen things before, great wondrous things and things that made his head spin strange but all of them, every single one, was eclipsed in an instant. Great hulking stone structures jutted out of golden sand, toned the same so only the shadows and the scaffolds really distinguished them. The road clogged with traffic, with yelling in a tongue he didn't yet understand and carts full of artifacts, bumping along recklessly.

And men crawled everywhere, men in great white clothes and men dressed in the western fashion too. A few women slipped among them with parasols, dressed in drab travelling clothes but occasionally, he caught a flash of bright silk, violet or peach or baby blue, in keeping with the summer season. A melting pot bigger and broader than New York City or San Francisco. Noisier and dustier than both as well; vendors prowled the crowded street, yelling their wares. They stayed out of the way of their convoy, though, owing to the armed bodyguards flanking them front and back.

Handy.

The Sphinx rose up suddenly out of the mess of the crowd, half beautiful and half grotesque, chipping and dying and glorious all at once. Pictures and other depictions, even the stereo-scope Dean had spent so much time looking at in his youth, none of that did this vision any justice. Beholding it himself was breathtaking.

Even among all the shit and the dirt, the caterwauling and the dust, there was soaring beauty.

The world was like that.

At least, the world was like that for other people.

Dean saw, after further consideration, just a crumbling facade that, centuries later, vultures like him were picking apart, in the interest of science and history. Or else just for money, if they were being honest. Most of them were not honest.

He looked back into the carriage, considered the new stain of mud on his canvas and brown leather boots. Well, things would only get dirtier from here on in.

“You're Dean Winchester,” the woman opposite him said, her voice clear and loud, accent American and untraceable, rather like his.

So they were doing this; talking. It had taken long long minutes and he'd rather have done without but it was the polite thing to do.

He nodded, felt that placid, social smile tug automatically at the corners of his mouth.

“You're well-informed.”

“I'm Meg Masters, I'm sort of the right hand man on this expedition. So, yes, it's kind of my business. Your reputation precedes you.”

“It generally does, for good or for ill.”

“A little of both, I think.”

Dean felt the corner of his mouth lift despite detesting small talk; there was more to her than appeared, and he generally liked that about women, if nothing else.

“You'll like it here,” she assured him, tilting her hat against the sun and the sand as they rounded a corner. They passed the great amalgam of stone, head of a woman, body of a lion, and other assorted things, her vague expression betraying nothing. Rather like Meg's. “You haven't been briefed yet.”

“I am due for that once we're on site.”

“Mm, not really. That's the standard fare for everyone else. But you? You're a Winchester. We don't have you sorting through the same muck as everyone else.”

Were those devil's jewels real, Dean wondered? His father's letter expounded on it; a set of necklaces, bracelets and rings that would catapult the wearer to the throne of all Hell. It seemed far-fetched but everything did about this strange, undiscovered world under the sand.

“So what am I after?” Dean asked, tilting his head, eyes swerving towards the other two gentleman in the car.

“They're privy to all my information, don't worry. This is Castiel,” Meg introduced the man with the bright blue eyes beside her, clutching at his tawny jacket with her doe-skin gloves. “And this is Brady. Both in the employ of our leader and benefactor. So you're among friends, Dean.”

Dean nodded, considered both men a little longer and without reason to distrust them or the woman yet, he eased down. Listened attentively.

It was the same general malarkey he usually heard when hunting preternatural artifacts; ancient secrets, do not disturb, on and on and on. It wasn't just jewels, though Bobby had been half right; they did exist, supposedly, they did factor into Daniel's plan quite heavily.

Which itself was suspect, but Dean wasn't in the business of questioning his employer's motives. Dean was here to get paid.

Along with the set of jewelry, there were untold bottles with things trapped inside; djinn, ghul, demi-gods, demons. Any stoppered bottle was to be suspect, was to be catalogued carefully and announced immediately to the right people, Meg and her cronies, in fact, could assess the situation.

Beings trapped in bottles was entirely too rooted in fiction for Dean's tastes. He'd never come across one in reality, and he'd come across a great many strange things. Spirits, sometimes, clung onto possessions from their lives, attached themselves to trinkets or snuff boxes or dolls. But nothing, so far as Dean knew, could be trapped in a vessel.

And he did have hundreds of years of research behind him on this.

But, he smiled, nodded, listened and considered what he might find beyond the huge structures they passed. They came out of the crowded street and carried on behind some structures, further and further out until the yelling of the vendors faded away completely. It was just their ten carts and the quiet, the wind whipping past and the sand crackling faintly.

The briefing was more or less the same. Less ghosts and monsters, more keeping things intact and being extraordinarily careful.

Dean hid his shaking hands behind his back, mopped at his sweaty brow in turns and, generally, didn't look too out of sorts for the heat of the day and how it affected everyone else.

But his stomach felt knotted hard, his mind foggy.

They had rations of water, and water would not do the trick, not for this dry mouth.

Dean fell in with the troops, so to speak. They all marched through dug-out trails, flanked by men with torches along narrow walls. There were rooms open along each side, some dim and dark and empty, others bustling with activity. They walked for sweaty ages, or at least it seemed that way. Dean was finding time falling apart rapidly as his system flushed all the precious alcohol out.

His head pounded, he sweat everywhere. Still. Two, three months of this now. He had better get used to it.

The paper in his hand said 'cavern #13' and of course it would, of course they'd stuff a Winchester in the cursed number. He found it after half an hour of drudging alongside his compatriots and found himself immediately alone as they all continued forth.

That was well enough.

Dean sighed, sagged against the inside wall out of view and took a moment to himself. Peace and quiet. It was nice, at long last, after so much jostling and shouting and close quarters sweating. Alone.

Dean prized that moment.

He opened his eyes eventually, shrugged his jacket off, laid his hat on top of it on the dusty ground and shouldered his bag of tools. It wasn't heavy but he grunted, rapidly out of shape and missing the extra boost of physical confidence from the drink. Terrible, how it changed you.

Terrible how he wasn't sure he could live without it.

“Alright, cavern number thirteen,” Dean muttered to himself, glancing around the cramped space. Here and there, things poked out of the sandy dirt. He wasn't sure what this was, whether burial or something else. He was no expert in any case.

He started in the corner, far right, and noted the proceedings, which were: dust, dirt. More dust and dirt. Broken pottery. Dirt.

This room was utterly uninteresting, uninspiring and vaguely claustrophobic. Although the walls closing in could easily be any number of horrible reactions. Dean stood with his back to everything, his arm on the wall and his head on that, wiping his sweat off for the millionth time on his rolled up shirt-sleeves.

Was the cavern spinning? Or was that him?

Did it even matter, anymore? All he had were notes on dirt and debris.

A cool wind sailed through the place and Dean spun around, frowning deep enough that it nearly hurt his face.

And now, in the center of the cavern, resting on a sealed up sarcophagus half-covered with dirt, there was a vase. Green and gold, glinting, appearing to move in the torchlight and then it did move, side to side, threatening to topple and Dean sucked in a hard breath, raced to grab the strange new artifact.

He misjudged distance, time, everything going weird as he stretched his hand out of it and brushed it too hard with trebling fingers. The vase fell, cracked loud against the slab of stone and split into two, three pieces, big and wide but pieces nonetheless.

Dean swore, reaching out to grab them when the room darkened, the torch shivered nearly out and smoke rose from the cracked vessel.

Black smoke.

You couldn't rightly call yourself a purveyor of all things mystical without knowing exactly what that meant.

Dean swore out loud, scrambled back to his starting corner, the rough stone of the cavern walls biting into his skin. He had nothing, he'd brought nothing, not so much as a grain of salt or a can of paint.

The smoke swirled around the room, filled it up huge and billowing and stopped a moment. It seemed to peer into the dimness, seemed to be looking for something and Dean prayed quietly to himself, to anything and everything that it wouldn't jam itself down his throat.

It didn't.

The smoke approached him and two hands jutted out from it, alongside Dean's clean-shaven face. He felt a chill, shook with more tremors than before when it caressed his skin and reached inside of his head. He felt that too, a cold prickle up the back of his neck, goosebumps raising on his arms, over the whole of his body.

Oh, it could see everything of him. It felt him inside and out and took him apart and put him back together, it moved with no regard for his sanity and contentment, it only sought and found and Dean squeezed his eyes shut, praying again it wouldn't take him for a host.

It didn't.

It spun around the room again, filled up every corner and dove down fast, circling the vase over and over; Dean felt it rather than saw, felt the breeze and the horrible waiting and then it whispered his name, low and sweet.

Dean opened his eyes, blinked to adjust to the brightness in the room again, the torch settled and steady.

Standing barefoot on the wide sarcophagus, the smoke had taken a form, crammed itself into a shape.

And it happened to look exactly like Dean's long-lost baby brother.

#my fic #wincest text #you asked for it friends #well #two of you did #anyway #i'm just #stalling #until #wincest #k sorry about the roughness #and vaugeries #and historical inaccuracies #it'll be better when i post it on ao3 #k bye

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