#phic stuff

[nerdywriter36]

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

AO3

Well hello! This is a very short oneshot born as I do a little project with one of my best friends, @iguessweusewords, to get her into writing and to flex her creative muscles. This is a post-LND oneshot based around the prompt: "What are you doing in there?"/"I had nowhere else to go?" by @daily-prompts. I took some slight liberty with that, but it's the same prompt at its core. Enjoy!

[cae-ruleam]

time's a ticking

rated G - basically a character study of immortal Danny word count: 4405 AO3 link

Danny's seen many loved ones come and go, and he has almost been beaten down countless times. But life goes on, and through the years, Danny's learned to live with that by making new memories to remember, and rekindling old ones.

“Mr. Leverton, it’s already past seven! I’ll be heading out in a moment, you can close up shop soon,” Danny heard a young voice call from the second floor of an old mechanics shop. He took off his gloves and wiped his forehead before mumbling, “Is it really that late already?” to himself. But it seemed that his apprentice still heard him once he started strolling down the wooden stairs.

“Yes, really! Now, please don’t continue working on that and just go home to rest, will ya?” Sawyer chastised the older man with slight exasperation; knowing that if he did not hound Danny, the man may stay holed up here all night and not even realize it until Sawyer returned the next morning.

It’s happened before. Several times too many, in fact. Danny chuckled, “Who’s in charge of who here?” he joked with a roll of his eyes. But he still did as told and started to put all his tools in their right places.

“Har har, you know you’ll get too invested otherwise if you weren’t already, Mr. Leverton,” the young man reiterated once more. He then went and shrugged on his winter coat before saying goodbye and walking out of the shop with a skip. Danny waved at him as he did so, of course.

“Well, he’s not wrong,” Mr. ‘Leverton’ said as he pushed himself up from his stool and cracked his neck.

It’s been a long time since Danny’s gone by the last name ‘Fenton’; it’s been roughly 170 years, in fact. After all, he didn’t have any family when he was a kid, besides his parents, sister, and aunt Alicia, of course. But Jazz and her wife never had any kids of their own, despite fostering many others. Aunt Alicia never remarried after her divorce, plenty satisfied to live her life ‘till the end on her own.

That left Danny, but given the … circumstances of his existence, he quickly shot down any idea of having kids, biological or adopted.

So the Fenton Family’s lineage ended with Jazz and him, some 350 years ago when Jazz passed. He’d faked his death for the public long before then. You could only claim you’re an exceptionally young-looking 40-year-old for so long, after all.

That was until he decided to bring it back briefly, about 200 years ago, for another run and go. He didn’t like the idea of disconnecting himself from his first identity forever, entirely. Even if he had to use a different first name that time.

The second name he’d decided to use was Nightingale. In a hilarious turn of fate, during that 30-year period, there seemed to have been a resurgence in interest in witchcraft.

A lot has changed in the over 400-year period he’s wandered the Earth, yet, not so much has changed at all. And that was why Danny nowadays preferred to keep himself under the radar, and people at an arm’s length.

While he technically retired himself from the superhero business several centuries ago, what, with the amount of his rogues mellowing out and there being less need for Phantom to be able to show up at any moment; he would still help out whenever necessary. Such as, when there were catastrophes from space threatening the entire globe and its attached afterlife, something he’d done before but no one remembers nowadays. Or, when the wrong people got a hold of the rapidly developed technology and weapons of warfare, ones so strong and destructive the humans themselves do not even have any preventive measures for. But that was neither here nor there.

He preferred it this way. He was getting old – albeit not physically, he definitely was mentally – and he’d never been too fond of being part of the superhero business in general. He was merely thrust into it at a ripe fourteen years of age due to a stupid mistake stupid kids made. He was thankful he could mostly part ways with that life, nowadays. Jazz also said that it had made him happier.

“Speaking of…” it’s been a while since he’s visited his sister. The only one from his immediate circle that became a ghost. His parents likely would’ve rather been burned to death than become ghosts in the afterlife, and Sam and Tucker … Danny supposed they’d lived a fulfilling enough life to not return.

He was happy for them, for that fact; even if it had hurt at first when he realized. Even when it still hurt, over 300 years later to know they’d moved on from him. But perhaps love was never meant to be, for a being such as himself.

Jazz, on the other hand, said that she would never be able to leave her baby brother to fend for himself, especially if this baby brother was some immortal semi-godlike being who’s made more than a few bad decisions in his then-normal-lifespan. Danny had laughed at that proclamation at first. Until she really came back to haunt him forever in the afterlife that is.

Danny went ahead and locked up the door of his mechanics’ shop before heading up the stairs to the second floor, personal belongings in tow. He’d rather not open a portal and disappear through it, right in front of the large windows the first floor had.

The halfa took a gentle breath and dipped into a bit of concentration before tearing a hole through reality – its veil was rather thin, all things considered. After all these years and so much experience, creating portals was like child’s play to him – hell, even creating duplicates was.

He then let his familiar transformation wash over him before flying through the portal and closing it off again with a wave of his gloved hand once he was on the other side.

Danny found himself in a familiar area of the Ghost Zone – some small spectral village that was built roughly 700 years ago, if he remembered his history correctly. He shouldn’t let Clockwork know that he’s already forgotten the lessons he gave him; he’d be so disappointed.

Danny looked around in the air briefly before slowly floating down toward the paved roads, and just when he came to a halt, a few inches off the floor, a shrill voice caught his attention.

“Phantom!” it happily called out, loudly – and before Danny was able to turn around he was tackled into a hug by some familiar weight. Once his eyes landed on his assailant, everything made sense. “Hi there to you too, Brianne,” he greeted kindly. The ghost child giggled and kicked her feet before she looked up at him again. “Aunt Jazz has been worried sick!” she continued.

Danny’s eyes widened momentarily, and he quickly tried to hide his shock again. “And why would she be?” he asked as he patted the girl’s head, even though he had several guesses for why Jazz could be worried to the point others would know about it.

“She’s been muttering to herself about how it’s been too long since you visited…” Brianne answered with a scrunched expression, as if deep in thought and racking her brain to remember the details. “Also something about … afraid that frostbite would get to you? Or not get to you? I don’t know why she would be though! You have an ice core,” she continued on.

Danny chuckled and patted her head once more, “She’s probably worried that Mr. Frostbite, chief of the Far Frozen-” “Wouldn’t be able to find this reckless uncle of yours when he inevitably forgot his check-ups again,” Jazz added.

“Jazz!” Danny remarked surprised, but also excited, “Did you really have to put it like that?” he asked sheepishly.

“It wouldn’t be the first time, now would it? It’s a valid concern; you haven’t visited me in two years!” she chided her brother, her always younger baby brother – no matter how old or powerful he’s gotten.

Danny’s expression became slightly pained. He huffed and motioned his head to the side briefly as if to tell his sister, ‘Let’s continue this at your place,’ and it seemed that Jazz agreed. His sister looked down at the girl standing confused between the two of them and quietly told her something or another – Danny didn’t quite catch it – and she immediately went on her merry way.

Jazz started walking once Brianne had gone off, and Danny made it a point to close the distance he had with the ground and walk alongside her. Despite being able to fly, as the skill was part of any ghost’s basic repertoire, Jazz was one of the few ghostly inhabitants of the ‘Zone who had always preferred to feel her feet planted on the ground, even after death. He saw no need to mention it and was always happy to join her; gently grabbing her hand as he did so.

“I’m sorry that it’s been so long,” he started after a moment of not-so-uncomfortable quiet, “It’s just … After all these years-” “Time catches up to you, and you lose track of it instead,” Jazz finished his sentence for him once more. She exhaled, revealing no emotion with that action, not really. “I know, we’ve been through this plenty of times before, I got that by the time you turned 320 well enough,” she continued.

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t still point it out. Who knows what would happen otherwise?” she added after a beat of silence. “What? You’re afraid I’ll forget to visit you for decades at a time, or something?” Danny asked with a chuckle, rhetorically, mostly.

Jazz halted in her steps, forcing Danny to a stop too, and making him turn to see her raising an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Heh, maybe you’re right,” he said with a sigh.

“You’re the one who said you lose track of time, after all. And I don’t think it’ll ever really get better,” she said, her tone devoid of judgment.

When they continued walking, but Danny didn’t respond for a few moments too long, Jazz spoke again. “You know I don’t blame you, right? It’s not unnatural – it’s just – I don’t want to lose you also,” she said quietly.

“You don’t have to! Isn’t that why you became a ghost in the first place? So we’d never lose each other,” Danny responded.

Jazz sighed and nodded. “Yes, but when you don’t contact me for so long, it’s … hard to not get scared. And before you say anything about me joining you – you know very well that I can’t sustain myself outside the Ghost Zone for long like you can, now that you move around the globe instead of staying put in Amity. Not that you should ever feel compelled to do that, of course.”

Once they’d arrived at Jazz’s doorstep, she removed her hand from Danny’s to find her keys and unlock the door, before opening it and letting Danny through. Doors in the ‘Zone were very much Ghost-proof, after all. But not so much human proof. Danny quickly dropped himself on the sofa with a satisfied “Humph”, making Jazz shake her head at him as she locked the door again.

“Do you want something to drink?” she asked, already making her way to the kitchen.

“Some ecto-jasmine will do,” Danny responded.

“Do I even want to know if that’s a poor attempt at a joke, or not?”

“Why not both? And hey! It is not poor,” a beat went by, “Okay, maybe it is.”

Danny sighed as he watched his sister work, shaking his head, “But no, you’re … right. I should probably be putting more effort into this … relationships thing. At least for others, even if not myself.”

“Oh?” Jazz responded curiously from the kitchen across.

Danny noted long ago how her home in the Ghost Zone – her Keep manifested from herself – resembled the different houses she’s lived in in her human life. That’s nothing strange, not at all. Many ghosts’ Keeps reflected parts of themselves, or their mortal lives. What was notable however was just how akin to the Fenton house in Amity Park Jazz’s was. Despite everything, it meant that her memories tied to it were comfortable and strong enough to manifest like this.

Contrary, Danny’s Keep – besides the one previously belonging to Pariah – was a weird amalgamation of their childhood home from before they moved to Amity, his many houses since then, and hell – it even saw a bit of Sam’s home! And it still changed to this day, as every new house he inhabited for a longer period of time would shift it again, even if it had been happening less frequently or substantially than before. One thing stayed consistent, however, and that was that there was a distinct lack of their home in Amity Park.

Jazz had mentioned before that it likely meant Danny had separated himself entirely from that aspect of his life, and that that was okay. That it was a form of healing as well.

But Danny couldn’t help but feel like it meant he was running away from it. His life and experiences there were what made him into the man he is today, after all. But that was neither here nor there.

Danny nodded, even though he knew Jazz wouldn’t be able to see it, and responded, “Yeah … for you. For Brianne,” a child taken too soon. A young ghost Danny found wandering around, lost in the Ghost Zone, shortly after her death. Now in the care of the community here, “And I’ve … taken on a human apprentice.” Danny finally bit the bullet and admitted it.

Danny then heard some ceramic shatter.

He jumped up from the couch alarmed, “Is everything alright?” he asked hastily.

Jazz sucked in a breath of air through gritted teeth before responding, “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

She then grabbed a new cup, poured the tea in it, and returned with two of them in hand to the living room. As she set them down, she continued talking, “I was just caught off guard. I mean, you? Of all people taking in a human apprentice? When your only answer to me goading you into establishing more relationships with people again was ‘Nah.’ for the longest time? Sue me for not believing it immediately,” she said sarcastically.

“Very funny, Jazz. But I really can’t blame ya,” Danny responded, accepting defeat.

Jazz’s expression turned softer as she pinned her brother down and sighed, “Of course you can’t. Anyway, care to elaborate?” she asked as she raised her cup of tea to her mouth, taking a gentle sip of the hot beverage.

Danny closed his eyes and shook his head as he picked up his tea as well, responding, “It’s not like you’ll let me out of here until I do so,” he said. “You know me well, little brother,” she teased.

“What caused this change in heart?” Or resurfacing perhaps, that’d be a more accurate description.

Danny pouted in thought for a moment. “I just met this kid, Sawyer’s his name, a few months ago. He has a talent for engineering, but I found out soon after that his family probably wouldn’t be able to send him to college for that. Even after so long, the world hasn’t really become more fair. If it hasn’t gotten worse, that is,” he explained.

Jazz sighed, disappointed but not surprised, “That doesn’t shock me in the slightest. Anyway, so you thought you’d teach him the ropes?” The halfa nodded, “Basically; and maybe he’ll be able to get a scholarship after that, if he wants to, anyway.”

“You saw a part of yourself in him, didn’t you?” Jazz said, seemingly out of nowhere.

Danny huffed, just barely amused, “What made you think that?” he asked with suspicion.

“A young boy with uncultivated talents, really, Danny?” his sister asked in return, unimpressed.

Danny quieted at that. He’s been a lot quieter in general, especially compared to his youth, Jazz noted.

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone, and not a secret for anyone, that Danny changed a lot when his loved ones started passing one by one, while he stayed young and living forever. Jazz wasn’t exempt from that either, as the only one who continued to stay by his side, even if that meant continuing without her wife and dear friends who happily moved on.

The two of them always knew it would come to this, and they’d both made peace with it now. But it didn’t take a genius to realize that Danny’s solution to not experiencing this heartbreak again, was to distance himself from humankind. He stayed close, residing more in the human realm than the ghostly one, but he detached himself from relationships just enough for them to not get too close. For him to not get hurt too bad once he’d inevitably see them for a last time.

Unfortunately, in doing so, Danny separated himself from both communities that he was a part of.

Now, Jazz felt that for the first time in over a century, she saw the care he once carried all around him, emerge once more. This Sawyer kid, no doubt has been a huge part of that.

She saw the need to point it out as such, “I think this change has been good for you, little brother.” At Danny’s puzzled face, she continued, “You seem more energetic, more comfortable in your own body,” she said with a smile.

She set her cup down on the lounge table and walked over to Danny who was on the opposite side, kneeling down and holding her hand on top of his knee. “It must’ve hurt, keeping a part of yourself buried for so long,” she whispered quietly, but without another sound nearby it was louder than clear.

It was this comment that broke Danny’s defenses down, an attack so gentle it wouldn’t even have left a scratch. First came one tear, and then another, before they were followed by many more soon enough until her little brother was sobbing uncontrollably. Jazz didn’t think twice before embracing him in a tight hug.

He hugged back just as tightly, if not tighter. If Jazz were still human, she would’ve had to beg for air soon enough. So it was a good thing she didn’t have to.

The siblings just sat there, crying into each other’s shoulders for Ancients know how long.

------------------------------------------------------

On a clear spring day, Sawyer was prepared to head into Daniel Leverton’s shop early in the morning as he’s done many times before, half expecting he may have to wake up his teacher again; an occurrence that had become quite familiar to him as of late.

Instead, he was met with a decked-out first floor, a cake at his workbench, and a very awake Mr. Leverton.

“Happy birthday, I hope you’ll like your gift!” the raven-haired man had exclaimed.

Sawyer barked a laugh at that. “I honestly didn’t expect you to have remembered,” he said. His tone wasn’t rude, not in the slightest. He was merely stating a fact.

“I didn’t either, but hey, seems like old-timers still run alright once in a while,” he said with a wink.

And that had always been a peculiarity to Sawyer. He knew that Mr. Leverton was older than he looked. Even if he didn’t always act it, he had way too much experience for that not to be the case. But other times he would sound like any of his slightly older friends. Yet on occasion, he sounded like so much more. Even his grandparents wouldn’t have compared when they’d been alive.

Sawyer pushed those silly musings out of his head before accepting his gift – some tools that he may or may not have been drooling over while he was out with Mr. Leverton gathering supplies a few weeks ago, as well as some chocolates he vaguely remembered noting he enjoyed once, offhandedly.

For someone so air-headed – or perhaps, appearing to be on another plane entirely, the elder was attentive like no other.

Daniel Leverton was a curious man, and he continued to surprise the young mechanic.

------------------------------------------------------

It was on a different spring morning, several springs after that birthday, that Sawyer received an important email.

It was an email of acceptance into college – one dictating that he’d be the recipient of a scholarship, no less.

Mr. Leverton was the first person he’d tell about this news. Instead of the immediate excitement that he’d expected of the man, he received a pondering expression.

“Y’know, I was about to ask if you were interested in taking over the shop,” he’d said after he left Sawyer to wander about in his own confusion for a while.

Before he could respond, however, Leverton continued, “I’m proud of you, you should definitely go for it, I know how much it means for you. Just know you’ll always have a place to return to.”

“What are you going to do then?” he responded.

Mr. Leverton hummed with his trademark smirk and grinned, “I was thinking of taking an early pension and traveling the world for a bit. I still have a lot of inheritance left from my too-rich godfather, too. And I’ll keep the building for now, but clients will have to find a new favorite mechanic. Oh, I just know how much it’ll pain them to not find me again though, truly tragic,” he explained dramatically.

“You know, Mr. Leverton, sometimes it really doesn’t feel like you’re the older one of the two of us anymore,” Sawyer teased.

“Oh, but I can assure you I am,” the other said with a wink, “But feel free to call me Danny. Seeing you call me Mr. Leverton to this day really does make me feel so old,” he continued, placing a hand on his heart with a pained expression.

“Heh, okay, Danny,” Sawyer tested the name on his tongue. “I’ll let you know about the shop when I get close to graduating, yeah?”

“We have a deal!” Danny responded as he theatrically shook his hand. “Those stuck-up academics won’t know what’ll hit them.”

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Danny didn’t actually travel the world like he’d told Sawyer; he’d done that plenty of times before. Going on two world-round trips within a century sounded kinda overkill, even to him.

No, what he did in actuality was that he decided to reside in the Infinite Realms for a little longer again – while still returning to Earth on occasion to let the systems know that he had not, in fact, died yet. He didn’t plan on doing that for a few years yet.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Danny’s been planning on his new identity for a bit now. Or, well, old identity.

“Do you think the world is ready for the return of Danny Fenton?” he’d mused to Jazz on a seemingly random day.

“I don’t see why not,” she responded. “What brought you to this decision?”

“I just think it would be nice to revisit some old memories, friends, and places.”

Jazz smiled serenely at that. “I think that’s a great idea, Danny.”

------------------------------------------------------

“Heard anything from Sawyer recently?” Jazz asked him one day, a different random day. Danny shook his head.

“Nah, seems like he’s been living a good life. He hasn’t been updating me as frequently lately, but I like to see that as him broadening his circles,” he responded fondly. But then, his mortal phone rang – techniques to make them compatible with ghost-tech and the ‘Zone courtesy to Tucker, of course – and he laughed. “Speak of the devil.” He transformed into his human form before picking up the call.

“Hey there, Sawyer. How’s school been?”

“It’s … been very great, actually, Danny. I have met someone very great, in fact. But uhm – more on that later. Remember what you said about the shop?”

------------------------------------------------------

Danny returned to his cozy little shop for the first time in roughly four years, not so long after he’d attended Sawyer’s graduation ceremony. He picked up a few of his belongings he couldn’t miss, and threw them inside his pocket dimension for safekeeping.

It was as he did this, that Sawyer entered, and caught him in the act. He’d been planning for this to happen, really.

The young man looked a bit confused but didn’t see any need to press further. If anything, Danny figured this would answer some questions in the long run, once the other thought about it.

“Heh, that’s not something you see any day,” was the boy’s first comment.

“Really? I see it happen plenty of times,” Danny snarked back.

“Man, I’d so want to punt you if I didn’t know for sure I stood no chance.”

Danny hummed, “I think you’ll have to stand back in the line for that.”

Neither man said another thing for a while after that, until Danny’s eyes landed on a small ecto-ornament he’d put on his table when he left for the Ghost Zone those years ago. He picked it up and held it out to Sawyer.

“Here, keep this. If you’ll ever be gone for a while, put this out in the open and it’ll put the area into stasis. Nothing will age for the worse, and it’ll serve as a protective charm against burglaries,” Danny said in a light tone at the end, though he wasn’t joking. Attempted burglars will wake up more than a little dazed if they so much as dare touch upon the shop.

“I … Honestly, I’m not even gonna question that. I just saw you tear a hole in reality,” Sawyer responded.

“That’s probably for the best,” Danny said with a gentle nod of his head before putting the ornament into the young man’s hands.

“Anyway, I’ve got everything I need. You can keep the rest, or throw it out – whatever floats your boat. This place is yours now. I left my key and the spares on my workbench,” Danny explained with a tilt of his head.

“What are you going to do this time?”

“That’s a secret,” Danny replied. “But do come find me again, as a man named Daniel Fenton.”

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Years pass by, with Sawyer finding no such man.

Until one day, into his later years, when his children had already taken over the shop, he heard a familiar voice he’d not heard in decades, but could never forget.

“Hey there, Sawyer,” Danny Fenton said, in the flesh; not looking a day older than their last meeting all those years ago.

…

“I’m proud of you.” And I of you.

[miaouumiaouu]

Guh idk if I ever shared my AO3 with y’all but. here ya go :3

Now I scurry back to my pillow fort/silly

[astradyke]

tbh rereading my comfort phics made me think that on the docket for stuff mare should write when they're bored of doing paperwork and youtube watching over winter break is like... phil having a chronic illness flareup & dan having a chronic pain flareup. this might be the most fucking self indulgent thing ever but ain't that the beauty of writing

[camels-pen]

chapter 9! simply titled "joker moment" (thanks red <3)

[ace-does-stuff]

I think the only way to reach peak writing is to be in a list of fic recs

[ethicallysourcedslut]

Come join my 18+ Phantom of the Opera discord! We have a lot of fun stuff, including sneak peaks at upcoming fanfiction and novels, as well as discussing the many adaptations of Phantom. We also have movie night every Friday night. The link will be below!

[v-writes]

April 28 2025

No writing done, Mahjong Monday, but we didn't even play mahjong bc someone ran too late for us to play. Which is all chill we just hung out, still had fun 👍

[danis-artss]

Today- today is a good day

Recently got a commission (after like idk 4 months i think)

I just reached 200 followers on instagram (finally)

And most important:

Marsalias finally started updating one of my favorite danny phantom fanfictions: ancestral !!!!!

If my brain would now, just for once, stop stressing about little things and stuff thatll happen in the future, it would be PERFECT

[nerdywriter36]

for the five sentence fic ask game: Phantom of the Opera + tears

Erik had thought, ten years ago, that he had shed the most tears he ever could. After that fateful night when Christine left him in the belly of the Opera House, he had cried for days, weeks. He hadn't thought there was any way that things could possibly get worse, he couldn't even fathom that. How wrong he had been, he now realized as he lay in a small bed, holding the son he had just found, this newly motherless boy. He had enough tears to last him a lifetime in the wake of the greatest loss he had ever known.

thank you for all of your asks, Aster! they will trickle out slowly over the next couple of days, but this one came together quickly. angst!

[capta1ns4ng0]

YAAAAA

[roundaboutnow]

i am literally always listening to this, i dont even know why

[nerdywriter36]

@brendadaaedestler you exaggerate 🙄 but right back at you, anything you’ve written

Reblog and put in the tags of your favorite fanfiction in 2023.

[five-rivers]

Dreams of Time 1

[For the phic phight! Based on prompts by @ventisettestars and @bubblegumbeech]

Danny would say he knew Clockwork fairly well.  Both in the sense that he knew Clockwork better than he knew other ghosts, and in that he knew Clockwork better than other ghosts knew Clockwork.  He knew from speaking to Poindexter, Skulker, Ember, Johnny, and Kitty (both during fights and during rare truces) that Clockwork was considered borderline mythical.  Both in the sense that a lot of people didn’t think he was real, and the sense that he was regarded as a deity.  Which was a weird thing to find out about someone you knew, but Danny didn’t have any room to comment.  He was half dead.  

All this to say, Danny had never seen Clockwork sleep before.  Or act sleepy.  Or even tired, except in an ‘I'm tired of your crap’ kind of way.  So, the addition of a massive, curtained bed to three main room of Long Now, his lair, seemed distinctly out of character.  

Out of theme, too, unless he was aiming for some kind of extended bedtime-based pun.  Which was… possible.  Not likely, Clockwork preferred irony as a comedic device, but possible. 

Although, he also liked pranks.  

Danny had no idea what kind of prank this could be, though.  

He lingered in the doorway, looking over the room, trying to spot any other clue as to what was going on.  Some other object, maybe.  A time viewer left on a particular scene.  A clock showing a notable time.  Clockwork himself, floating silently in a corner.

Nothing.  Nothing that stood out, anyway. 

Danny slid his backpack (stuffed with social studies homework - Clockwork never gave Danny answers, but he'd give hints) off his shoulder and put it quietly on the floor.  Cautiously, he approached the bed.  He remembered the time Clockwork had slammed him repeatedly into a bell, and while it hadn’t hurt that much, and Danny had arguably deserved it, Danny didn’t want a repeat.

Just like before, nothing seemed out of place, other than the bed itself.  Danny reached it, and lifted a hand to touch the curtain.  It was multi-layered, with the top layer a lavender gauze and the deepest one a dark, heavy, purple.  Brass stars were sewn into all the layers and they jingled against one another as Danny drew the curtains back.  

The bed was occupied.  Danny thought he might have known this, or at least predicted this.  Clockwork lay there, beneath the blankets, perfectly still, not moving, not breathing.  He wasn’t wearing his usual cloak and robes, but something more like a bathrobe or nightgown.  His long white hair was braided over his shoulder, looping over the comforter.  

But the most striking change to Clockwork’s appearance was the black and glittering ooze dripping from his eyes.  It looked like there were stars trapped in it.  

That… didn’t look good.  

Danny bit his lower lip, then shook Clockwork’s shoulder.  “Clockwork?” he said.  “Clockwork?  Can you hear me?  Wake up.”

Yeah.  Maybe not the most polite thing to do to a guy when you just showed up to his house uninvited, but Danny was worried.  This was massively out of character for Clockwork.  If Clockwork had just decided to take a weird nap in the entryway, fine.  Danny could apologize.  But if this was a sickness, or an attack of some kind, Danny couldn’t just leave.  He had to check.  

Clockwork didn’t stir.  

Danny didn’t know enough about how ghosts slept to know if that was normal.  

He stared down at Clockwork, stymied.  ‘Sleep like the dead’ was a common phrase, as was ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead,’ but he’d never seen any ghost asleep.  Unless he counted Nocturn that one time.  

Speaking of Nocturn…  The black stuff under Clockwork’s eyes was familiar.  It looked like the substance of Nocturn’s body, made liquid.  Sort of liquid.  It looked distinctly gooey.  

Could this be–?  No, before, Nocturn had used bulky helmets.  But that had been when they were trying to keep the whole city under their control.  Maybe the rules were different when they were only putting one person to sleep.  

Actually, they hadn’t even needed the helmets to put people to sleep.  They’d used sand for that.  The helmets had been to collect dream energy and maybe to control the dreams and keep people asleep.  

Okay.  So, this might be a Nocturn thing.  Which meant Danny should…  Do what?  He should do something.  With his friends, he had overshadowed them to jump into his dreams, but, historically, him overshadowing another ghost, or another ghost overshadowing him, hadn’t exactly worked well.  In fact, one particular incident was downright apocalyptic.  

But what else could he do?  

He shook Clockwork again, fruitlessly.  

Maybe he should go back home and get some backup.  But then he’d have to leave Clockwork, and Nocturn might be around somewhere.  Could he bring Clockwork with him?  No, that wouldn’t be safe for Clockwork, with the trip through the Fentonworks lab and all.

Well, if the overshadowing looked like it was going poorly, Danny would just… disengage.  It wasn’t like he wanted to fuse with Clockwork or take over his body, he just wanted to wake him up.  

He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck.  This… was probably a bad idea.  Almost certainly.  But he wasn’t sure if there was a good way to deal with this.  

(Danny might have been freaking out about someone - even Nocturn - being able to beat Clockwork.  Just a little.  Internally.  As one did.)

Still, he stood there, looking down at Clockwork, hoping that a good idea would come to him.  

It didn’t.  

He took a deep breath.  “It’ll be fine,” he said to himself.  “How it was meant to be or whatever.”

Overshadowing was a deceptively simple power.  Go intangible and slip into something.  But there was more.  When Danny phased through something he could overshadow, he could feel something like a spiderweb.  Something delicate, connecting it to itself.  Something Danny could tangle himself in.  Or, when he was sliding into a dream or video game, something he could travel down, spiderwebs turning into highways with a shift of perspective.  

But in a ghost, the lines were less spiderweb and more chain net or root bulb. Dense, thick, and focused on a single point.  When Danny forced an overshadowing ghost out of a human, he had to push that knot out.  When he fought Poindexter, he’d lost that fight.  When he’d jumped into Nocturn’s dreams…  Well, Danny was glad he’d been trying to go after his dreams, because he’d been practically sucked in.  

Jumping into Clockwork was the same way.  He was just so strong, his will so solid, that the shift in perspective was automatic.  He was swept away, inwards, and emerged tumbling into Clockwork’s dreams.

He took a minute to orient himself.  Dreams were… strange.  And personal.  They didn’t really exist far away from the dreamer, the landscape forming and dissolving around them in a sort of bubble.  But even in that bubble, the rules of cause and effect, permanence, and persistence were suggestions.  

After the first time with Nocturn, Danny had asked Tucker how he’d perceived his dream, and it turned out that he’d thought there was only one Star, instead of the legions that Danny had seen.  It was just that Star was everywhere.  

Danny was apprehensive about what kinds of dream logic would prevail in the dreams of a person who could see time.  

But this looked…  Normal.  It looked just like Long Now’s entryway, actually, minus the bed.  

Good.  Normal was good.  

Okay, Danny’s next steps were clear.  Find Clockwork, figure out how to shock him or otherwise wake him up, and then work out what had happened in the real world.  Easy.  

Except for the part about shocking someone who could see the future.  That wasn’t going to be easy. 

Why didn’t he ever think these things through?  

He shook his head.  First, find Clockwork.  Then deal with the other stuff.  Who knew?  Maybe telling him he was in a dream would be enough.  

“Clockwork?” he called.  His voice echoed, but he got no other response.  He flew deeper into Long Now, calling out periodically.  Clockwork didn’t answer.  Long Now continued to look normal.  

Except–  Was it getting darker?  And were those stars moving in the dark?

That was all the warning he got before the shadows swirled around him and contracted, forming a sort of starry bubble.  Sleepwalkers, cloth-covered ghosts with stitched-shut eyes, rose from the black like swimmers from a pool and swarmed him.  

Danny fought, but the sleepwalkers were numerous and they were on their home turf.  Much like during his very first encounter with them, they pinned him and dragged him into place so their master could have a better look at him.  

Nocturn emerged from the darkness, and it clung to them, merging smoothly with their long robes.  They glared down at Danny with deep disfavor.  

“You,” they said.  “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to stop whatever you’re doing to Clockwork!” snapped Danny, angry at Nocturn for doing this, and furious at himself for not being able to get away.  

“What I am doing to Clockwork?” said Nocturn, rising up, their body elongating and looming over Danny.  They had to curve so as to avoid the low, rounded ceiling.  “What I am doing to Clockwork?  Better to ask what everyone else is doing to him.  Uncountable petitioners, begging for this favor or that, kings seeking to use him as a tool, those cursed Observants.”  Their lips curled.  “You.”

“Me?” repeated Danny.  “What did I do?”

“Paradox on paradox,” hissed Nocturn, circling Danny.  Danny craned his neck trying to keep track of them.  “Do you think your little jaunts through time are without damage?  Without consequence?”

Well.  No.  Danny knew his trips through time made work for Clockwork.  That was one of the reasons he started visiting.  But that didn't explain–

“Why do you care?  You attacked him and put him to sleep!”

Nocturn laughed.  “You seek to take me to task, but you know nothing.  Less than nothing.  Eons, I have been by Clockwork's side, and the oldest of your histories is younger than our relationship.”

Danny… blinked.  “Relationship?” he asked.  “Like- like a romantic–?”

“Of course a romantic relationship!”  Nocturn paced through the little bubble of starry darkness, back and forth.  “We have been lovers since before your kind had writing.”

“Okay, I kind of got that from the history thing, but–”

“I have had enough of this world harming him.  I have had enough of watching him work himself to his gears, trying to satisfy cruel masters.  I will have him rest in peace.  You will not disturb him!”

“And did you ask him before you did–”  Danny tugged at the sleepwalkers holding him in an attempt to gesture. “--All this?”

Nocturn scoffed.  “Do you ask your right hand whether it is acceptable to hold it with your left?”

“Oh my gosh,” said Danny.  “This is a domestic violence thing.  Are you even dating, or–”

“Our love transcends such distinctions.”

“You’re a stalker.  I can’t believe this, no wonder Clockwork never mentioned you–”

Danny’s words died on his tongue as Nocturn gave him a particularly poisonous look.  Okay.  Yeah.  Sometimes snarking at the person who currently held you captive wasn’t a good idea.  

“Why would he mention me to you, when our relationship far exceeds anything you could even dream of?” they asked.  It was only barely a question.  But then their expression slid towards contemplation.  “But he does care for you.  Somewhat.  He dreams of you.”

“And I dream of infinite tacos,” said Danny.  “What’s your point?”

“No, you don’t.”

“Huh?  I think I know what I dream about.”

“I am the Master of Dreams and Nightmares.  I know what you have dreamed of, and it is not tacos, infinite or otherwise.”  Nocturn leaned close, looming.  “You dream of stars.  Of tragedies that never happened.  Of your own death.  Of being loved in ways you never will be in waking life.”

“Uh, I think I know what I dream about,” said Danny.  “Also, excuse you, I am loved in real life.  Even Clockwork likes me.”

Oh, heck, that’s where they started.  That’s what Danny was trying to distract Nocturn from.  

“Yes,” said Nocturn, tapping a clawed finger against painted lips.  “You might be useful.  But not with that tongue on you.”  They snapped their fingers and the sleepwalkers moved, pulling at Danny’s lips and teeth.  “Oh, stop struggling, child.  I’m not going to cut off your tongue or whatever you’ve convinced yourself of.  I’m not a monster.”

Danny snapped at one sleepwalker’s fingers.  “Could’ve fooled me!  Augh!”  The sleepwalkers got their fingers firmly into Danny’s mouth and pulled his jaw open.  Their fingers tasted sandy.  

Nocturn held their hand out, and one of the idle sleepwalkers, standing behind them, pulled towards it, like it was being sucked into a black hole.  Its body warped, turning green, then inky, starry black as it swirled into a dripping orb a few inches across.  Dark liquid dripped onto Nocturn’s palm and disappeared, absorbed into their skin.  

Danny did not like the look of that.  Should he try a wail?  He hadn’t before, because this was Clockwork’s dream, and he didn’t know what would happen to him if Danny did something so damaging in his dream.  

“This servant of mine,” said Nocturn, “will make sure you do not say anything against the rules.”

What rules?

Nocturn leaned close, bringing the sleepwalker orb with them.  Danny felt something cold drip on his lips, and then press against his back teeth.  The orb was far too big to swallow and he gagged, trying to throw off the sleepwalkers one more time.  

But ‘too big to swallow’ was a problem for rigid humans.  It wasn’t an obstacle for ghosts whose bodies could vaporize or stretch like putty.  Not when that stretching was reflexive.  Danny’s throat expanded as Nocturn pushed.  But Nocturn didn’t push it all the way down to Danny’s stomach.  Instead, the sticky, gooey ball lodged somewhere in Danny’s esophagus and compressed when the organ seized around it, but didn’t move.  

Danny gagged and heaved, but the thing didn’t move.  All that came up were a few splatters of black that were lost in the black that surrounded Danny, Nocturn, and the sleepwalkers.  

But the sleepwalkers were fading away, disappearing, and soon only Danny and Nocturn stood there.  Or, rather, in the case of Danny, knelt there.  Without the sleepwalkers holding him up, he’d collapsed as he coughed.  

Nocturn grabbed the back of his collar and pulled him up as the darkness around them dissolved and Danny saw… Clockwork’s workshop?

And Clockwork.  

Danny tried to call out, but black liquid bubbled out over his tongue and past his lips, staining the front of his suit.  

… That was gross.  

But it also gave Danny time to realize that Clockwork was talking to… him?  To Danny’s doppelganger which was–  

Not that weird, actually.  He’d been in Sam’s dream and Tucker’s dream, and Nocturn had just said Clockwork was dreaming of Danny.  It was still a little unsettling to see.  

“I would tell you the rules,” whispered Nocturn, “but they are the rules of a dream.  You will figure them out…  Or not.”  They pushed Danny forward, and Danny experienced a brief moment of vertigo before finding himself sitting on the stool the dream double had been on, listening to Clockwork as he explained the function of a particular type of gear.  

Okay.  Danny didn’t know what game Nocturn was playing, but now that he was in front of Clockwork, he could just tell him that he was in a dream.  He opened his mouth and even more black ooze spilled out.  The action was completely silent.  

Okay.  That wouldn’t work.  Could Danny speak at all, now that Nocturn had forced an entire sleepwalker down his throat.  

“Clockwork,” he said.  

“Yes, Daniel?” asked Clockwork, looking up.  

Danny pointed over his shoulder.  “Nocturn.”

Clockwork’s gaze followed Danny’s finger, and then his entire face lit up.  “Ah, my love.”

“My love,” said Nocturn, significantly more possessively.  He leaned down as Clockwork reached up, and they kissed.  

Deeply.  

Ew.  Just.  Ew.  That was– That was going on way too long.  Way, way too long.  

(And some of Nocturn’s claims must be true, because if they weren’t, Danny was sure this would count as shocking.  It was certainly shocking to him.)

“I believe we are scandalizing your child, my dear,” said Nocturn. 

“Our child,” corrected Clockwork, absently.  “I am sure he will become used to it.  In time.”

“In your dreams,” said Danny, horrified, and not really processing the rest of the conversation, such as it was.  

Clockwork patted Danny on the head, ruffling his hair, then planted a kiss on Danny’s forehead, which was about ten times as intimate as Clockwork had ever been with Danny, and Danny felt his thoughts grind to a halt.  

What– What?

No, no, this was a distraction, he had to get Clockwork out of this dream.  

“Is there something the matter, dear?  I thought that you were working.”

“The problem was easily solved,” said Nocturn, carefully placing an arm around Clockwork’s shoulders.  “I thought that I would come watch you teach, if it is not an imposition, love.”

“Of course not.  And I am sure Daniel will not mind.”  He looked at Danny expectantly.  

Danny tried to form many words around a mouthful of inky ectoplasm (it had to be ectoplasm, right?) but the only one that managed to come out was, “No.”

Clockwork smiled.  “Very good.”  

Nocturn smiled, too.  Much more sinisterly.  

Danny swallowed.  This… was going to be a lot harder to deal with than he thought.

He really should have brought that backup. 

[v-writes]

March 26 2025

so should I count the words I wrote total or just the end wc vs start? jk I'm not scrolling through the chat to count the individual sprints, so final-start.

2231 words into Captured King. That does not feel right but that's why I keep track of wc bc I write more than it feels like I do.

But the first draft is done. holy fuck why is it that long. editing will probably add a couple hundred words when I clean it up. currently sitting at 19327.

and the worst part is I've left it open for a sequel...

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - You Look Sort Of Like My Father

For: Chrysanthemum and Care

Danny’s never had good parents. They were objectively ‘good’ people, but maybe an objectively ‘bad’ man would make for a genuinely good parent.

You look sort of… like my father.

Little boy, little boy, let me come in.

Let the dark come in.

Dad is that you, are you back?

Danny’s always had a… rocky relationship with his parents, it’s not that they were actively mean to him or that he actively hated them. It’s more that they just… weren’t good, weren’t attentive.

Weren’t really meant to be parents.

They were meant to be scientists, to be researchers, to be explores even; meant to be ghost hunters.

Kids were just for ‘the Fenton legacy’ or because ’married couples were supposed to have kids’ or simply for them to have extra hands to help them or extra minds to listen to them…

Or maybe it was simply to have free experiments that couldn’t escape for eighteen years.

…

That last one felt a little too true these days. At least they didn’t know about him, about what he was. If they did…

It, it would be so so much worse. Surely.

How couldn’t it be? They’d have access to a ghost, a unique hybrid ghost at that, that was stuck under their roof for at least two more years… if he survived whatever they’d do for that long anyways.

He didn’t have his hopes up. Never did. Never had even.

At least when he was human, fully human, he didn’t have to wonder if they’d saw out his ribs just to see what colour they might be. Blood samples were just blood. The stool stuff was creepy but still, not really a part of him.

Plus they stopped doing that stuff a year after they started actively feed him and Jazz ecto as little kids, since it didn’t ’yield interesting results’.

If it had…

He’d have been screwed from the start of his half life. He absolutely would have had to flee on day one. God that would have been awful.

He’d have… survived of course, he was good at surviving, had to be, but surviving wasn’t good. Surviving, only just surviving, was worse than dying.

He’d do it for his friends and to protect the town of course but still, he’d be doing all of it, all of that, empty and numb and waiting for the fight that would finally brutally beat the fight out of every one of his limbs and eventually… his heart and core too.

But that’s not how things are, not how they were, small mercy he guesses.

Didn’t really make what he does have now much better though. And it’s not like he can even dream that things would be better if only he hadn’t died.

They would be, just…

They still wouldn’t be good. They wouldn’t be fine or even okay.

And giving kids at least a ‘fine’ childhood was kinda the point of being a parent, ‘good’ was the goal and ‘great’ was better, but ‘fine’ would do. ‘Okay’ was only really acceptable with parents who didn’t choose to become parents, which was firmly not his parents positions.

They chose this.

They shouldn’t have.

He wished they hadn’t.

…

Well, okay, that wasn’t strictly true. He… enjoyed being around, he did!

He liked helping people, and seeing movies, and getting into ghostly fist fights, and hanging out with his friends… Even taunting Dash mid bully session could be fun.

But his parents shouldn’t have had kids and Danny would be better off someone else’s kid. Jazz was treated better by them and even she knew that; and unlike him, she had told them as much.

Did they care?

No, not really. Just a ‘that’s nice, honey’, which was and is somehow worse than them being upset, or heck, even happy. They just… didn’t really care.

He’d always wanted to fly, but all they taught him was how to drown.

The only things from them he did really like was his own love of science, of exploring and discovering, of tinkering; but they only cared and nurtured those things in him as far as they benefited and leaning into their interests… not his. Sure he was interested in ghosts too, just not like them.

Never like them.

They’d want him to be. Push him to be. So he never made that little interest known.

That’s okay though.

Because he explored his interests on his own, which wasn’t how it should be.

But…

His parents also gave him what he is. He wouldn’t be a halfa if it was for them. And that was such a part of him he could hardly seem himself without it. Even if what gave him it is all the things wrong with his parents. All the reasons they should never have been parents.

Unsafe handling of samples and unlocked projects. No adult supervision and contaminated baby bottles from the day he was born.

His parents must have paid someone off to avoid him and jazz getting taken away by cps. That, or, Sam was right and the cps only ever really did anything when a kid died and actually left a corpse behind.

…

Sucks for him he guesses then. Or not. The adoption system sounded awful.

He just… didn’t know if that would be better or worse than what he’s got, hard to say. Which he knows is really really bad. At this point it didn’t matter anyways, he had two more years and it wouldn’t matter.

He could stay.

He could go.

He could stay sometimes and go other times.

It would be up to him. And well… he did not hate his parents. In some ways he wanted to stay, he just… knows he can’t. It’s not safe. It never will be safe. Human or halfa. It won’t be safe. It won’t be healthy. It won’t be happy.

He won’t be free.

He really wanted to be free.

Not free from them, not really. Just free to be, well, him. Free to go where he wanted. Free to talk as he wanted. Free to decorate as he wanted. Free to simply be without having to be so damn paranoid about them. About them hurting him, about them confining him, about them maybe simply just not caring.

If they ever found out and just said ‘that’s nice, sweetie’, he knows he wouldn’t be able to handle that.

What would he even be supposed to do with that?

Nothing. Because you can’t do anything when someone gives you nothing. And that was a nothing response.

He could power through torture, would suck but he could do it. It was something. Confinement he could find an escape or be rescued. Nothing would just…

…

Yeah. It would just, and that’s it. And being stuck in that kind of uncertainty would be the farthest from being free or safe or happy.

He can only starve for so long before he’ll die. He’s starving for freedom. For better. For more. For what only the darkness seems to whisper he can actually have.

It’s a bit weird.

Because he didn’t used to really think about this stuff, all of it, before. As a kid, an early teen, it just simply was. No need to think about it and no real reason to. Jazz did, because Jazz studied behaviours, because Jazz cared about and for him more than they ever did.

But at least he knows why he actually thinks about this stuff now. He had a reference point, and a bit more maturity of course; but it was mostly that reference point he mentioned. And ironically, the reference point that actually got him to really think about how bad his parents were at being parents was an outright mass murderer…

That was pretty messed up, in all honesty. Even to him.

When a literal war mongering genocidal mad man provides an actual example of what a good parent should be, because the biological parents were just that far gone.

Someone he knows is no good, is good to him.

But…

Pariah just… seemed to care, not just in general but about him specifically.

Somehow.

Danny had been pretty convinced that the whole ‘you nearly truly bested me, child, you shall be my heir’ situation was just that, claiming a strong heir.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Just some other adult using what they wanted or needed of Danny and moving along.

Like mom and dad.

Like Vlad.

Like ClockWork.

Like Pamela and Jeremy Manson.

Like Alicia.

Like Pandora.

Like Angela and Maurice Foley.

Even like Lancer.

In fact… the only adult that Danny can think of that didn’t do that to him, was Sam’s nana Ida… his nana Ida… who of course died.

Figures right?

The one adult who treated him well dying?

Yeah…

‘That’s rough buddy’.

He was tired of rough. Honestly.

But then, now, there’s Pariah. Who… doesn’t do that to him.

Sure Pariah trains him. Hand to hand combat. Weapons. Political jargon. War strategies. Zone geography. Ghost typography and linguistics.

But…

He also listens to him. He doesn’t just throw things at him. Doesn’t just push his own wants, his own desires, his own ways, on him. On Danny. He didn’t do that to Danny as a whole, not just the ghost Phantom or the Human Fenton. Danny. He listened.

He gave back more than ‘that’s nice, sweetie’. Or ‘be back by super!’. Or ‘okay, have fun’.

Pariah gave responses. He gave actual feed back, and opinions, and his own specific thoughts.

And neither did he just say what he thought Danny wanted to hear or what he thought would get Danny to do or say or be the way he wanted. Even when Pariah knew it wasn’t what Danny wanted to hear.

When Pariah’s thoughts and opinions were cruel and twisted and dangerous.

Which was… good. It was really good.

As much as that had been difficult to admit, even to just himself.

Because someone who ended trillions in death and murdered thousands in life, shouldn’t be someone Danny’s ever thinking positively of… right?

Yet he was.

Because Pariah actually seemed to give a damn about Danny. Even if sometimes it was a bit twisted or dark. Even when he pushed for more than Danny was willing to give, he’d back off, drop it, immediately. Maybe explain himself a little, but that was all.

That alone was refreshing.

A ten foot civilization Ender trying to test out Danny’s level of willingness to commit murder, shouldn’t be ‘refreshing’… but it was.

Pariah was everything he didn’t have. Everything he’d never had.

And wasn’t that an awful thing?

What’s worse is it made Danny feel… off kilter. It just wasn’t what he was used to. His experience with so called ‘parental figures’ was lie, hide, and subdue everything.

Be enough for their wants and their needs but never too much. Never too you. If it was a situation where he didn’t have to then he wouldn’t, but with mom and dad he always had to. With anyone with actual claim to the term ‘parent’ with him, he had to.

Until Pariah.

Mom and dad left the door open, the latch ajar, for someone else to come in and scoop him up.

Pariah wanted of him of course. Wanted for him. But he also just wanted Danny seemingly. Wanted Danny as Danny. No lies. No hiding. No subduing his self.

Pariah didn’t like stars. Well he did, he just liked the stars because Danny liked the stars. Danny’s mom and dad couldn’t even understand the concept of liking something just because someone else, because their kid, did.

Pariah, he… felt more a parent each day and each night than Maddie or Jack did.

Every day he sent the FrightKnight as his guard, not because he wanted to ‘keep an eye’ on Danny, but because he wanted Danny safe. Because he did not view Danny as safe in his home environment… or a school… or at his friend’s homes.

Every night he decided to show up and glare menacingly at whatever ghost was bugging Danny, all so he could have some ‘father/son’ time.

Every day he just plain played with him, no ‘how to be a parent’ book needed.

Every night he’d sit on the observatory and let Danny explain the constellations at him even though he’d seen them all before.

Every day he eagerly teach Danny maths and social and even English, in place of living teachers who had long since given up on him.

Every night he simply let Danny sleep purely because he knows Danny needs to.

Then there was what he didn’t do.

He didn’t tell Danny half of what he was, was lesser than him. No, just that everyone was beneath them, because they were king and prince. No bigotry, no bias. It was simple status.

He didn’t gift him backhandedly or gift him only things that were useful to ‘the parent’ instead.

He didn’t disregard him and all that was his. Didn’t give him nothing answers.

Most of all, he didn’t experiment on him. Tests of skill or knowledge, sure, but not experiments, and the tests were with good reason.

Danny being weak, Danny being unskilled, Danny be unaware; would be dangerous. For him, for Pariah, for both of them. It wasn’t the same, it was always willing, eager even.

Pariah… was making Danny happy. Not like the contentment from when he was a young naive child. Actually happy.

That just… also hurt. Because it should be his mom and dad doing that. Having that effect. Not someone Danny met only because of an ill-thought fight and Vlad machinations.

But at some point Danny has to choose himself. His happiness. Choose a future with him happy in it.

Mom and dad.

Maddie and Jack.

Weren’t that future.

They never were. Never even could be. They didn’t have the capacity to be. Not for him, not for Jazz, not for anyone. That’s not Danny’s fault. That’s not Jazz’s fault. He can’t even blame Vlad. It was just them. Maddie and Jack. But that’s what made it hurt too.

Because they were happy the way they were. Hurting and failing those they chose to bring into the world by force. And happy people… can’t be changed. Shouldn’t be really.

It would be really selfish of Danny.

So he’ll let them have their peace. Without him.

It’s okay. It hurts, but it’s okay.

Danny had someone who did want him. Who did change for him. Pariah wanted Danny. And Danny likes being wanted, wants to be wanted.

Was that so wrong?

Was it okay for him to… actually pick Pariah? As a dad?

It… felt like it was but it also felt like it wasn’t.

…

Danny made his choice already. Made it a while ago. Long before he met Pariah. Long before he died. Long before he even understood that not choosing Maddie and Jack was even an option.

It just…

He just… needed to realize that. Mourn that. Hurt a little.

And he had. He really really had.

The realization will settle in. The mourning will peter down. The hurt will dull.

But at least that was an adjustment he wouldn’t have to bear alone.

Even if Pariah didn’t get Danny’s emotions, because they were too human or perhaps simply to foreign to Pariah himself, he would still make an effort to get them or hear them or soften them to something easier for Danny.

That’s so so much more than he’s ever had.

Still.

He has to stay. Stay here. In this house. For two more years, regardless of his falling off breaking non-attachment to its owners. He will be here, but he’ll be motionless. He won’t be himself.

He has nothing left to give.

They failed him, and Pariah came like holy water being poured on him. The devil always seemed so much kinder than god.

Will they even know? Will they be able to tell?

Like astronomy, they were whole worlds apart. Whole universes.

…

They already rarely see him. His room his only home here. The night. The sky. The stars. Even more so home.

Will they one day realize that he too -so much like Jazz but so much painfully later- had lost his will to believe in them? That he tried so hard but they never had anything. Had nothing for him.

Would he just be a memory?

Would they?

Once you reach the sky, you can’t look down at the sea.

A ghost gave him hope and an idea of what happiness was, what it could be.

He… he can almost laugh at how crazy that might drive them…

…

If they cared at all, or if they just dismissed him with their nothings.

Pariah would care. Pariah would laugh with him. And Danny’s heart and core would beat and pulse all the more with it.

Pariah could have him as son.

Pariah had him as son.

And Danny?

Danny, for once, for once in his life and death, had a dad.

As much as it hurt, he couldn’t bear the sound of loosing what he’s never before found.

And with that, the Infinite Realms had a king and prince too. And Danny could make Pariah love the place again. Want it to flourish again.

Because Danny wanted that.

Danny wanted it to thrive.

That place was the space he’d never get to see. The spaceship he can’t fly.

He can’t force a star that’s already died to align with living ones.

But he’ll reach out into the void with his small child ghost hands, and this time…

This time…

He won’t grab the wrong hand.

You look nothing like my mother

You look nothing like my father.

Dark thrashing, calling my name

Looming, threatening, and shaking the latch

You look nothing like my mother I know no mother.

You look exactly like my father.

End.

Prompts: Pariah Dark adopts Danny. He is a surprising dedicated to being a good parent. "This had all been for his own good, he knew that. Still, it was hard to remember that sometimes."