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[danis-artss]

The Human Resource 2/12

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Chapter Two

granulated sugar - about one cup, but a little extra never hurt anyone. 

When Linda wakes her head is foggy.

Which is odd because she never naps. And even stranger still, there’s voices arguing quietly with each other, hissing back and forth about . . . something. Had her kids come home early from college to surprise her? Her eyelids flutter at the heinousness of a light that is far too bright—brighter than any light has a right to be, because who dares turn on the big lights—and stifles a groan at how hard the floor is. Wait . . . why is she sleeping on the floor, again?

Perhaps she went a little crazy at bingo last night, which did happen from time to time. Yes, that must be it. It would also explain the crazy dream she had.

But then, why are there so many voices?

“Way to go, dipstick. Wait until Babypop finds out you brought an old lady here and killed her.”

“I did not kill her, you turkey! She just fell over!”

A deep rumbling laugh. “The whelp will be most displeased. I can’t wait to see his reaction when he returns from the human lands.”

“I thought it was pretty cool.”

“Shut up, Johnny, it was probably your fault!” a high-pitched female voice snaps.

“Quick, someone call Frostbite and have him send a yeti over!” a very frantic, very warbly voice says. One that Linda does recognize.

“I think she is waking up!” a familiar-sounding woman exclaims.

Linda’s eyes flutter some more until they finally open, meeting those of the green-skinned woman with blonde hair—the woman from her dream. Hissing through her teeth, Linda bolts upright and glances around wildly, which makes the group of . . .  of . . . creatures crowding her shriek and jump away. They all stare at each other, wide-eyed.

“Uh, hey, Linda,” one of them says.

She squints, adjusts her glasses, and realizes it’s Sidney Poindexter. He’s staring at her with worry creased between his brows. One of his pale little hands is extended, as if he wants to help her up but isn’t sure if he should.  

“W-what are all of you?” Linda asks, glancing between them all. “And where am I?”

The girl with fiery blue hair jabs Sidney with her elbow. “Hey dumbass, I thought you told her the deal before you hired her.”

“I did! I asked before she signed the contract if she was fine working with spirited coworkers!”

The girl snorts through her nose. “My god, you’re an idiot.” She turns to one of the cubicles and glowers at it. “Oi, Technus, you were supposed to be helpin’ him! What gives?”

Another green-skinned man with white hair and dark eyeglasses peers at them over the top of the cubicle wall. “I was simply told to supply the means of contact, not aid the nerdling in the hiring of the human resource!” He extends a single gloved finger. “Though I did suggest the use of caps for emphasis. One cannot convey importance through small letters alone as they are tiny and insignificant.”

The girl sighs exaggeratedly and runs her hand down her face. Linda just blinks.

“Careful, I do believe the human is still short circuiting,” the cubicle man—Technus?—adds.

“Why, she is pale beyond measure,” the blonde woman laments. She takes one of Linda’s hands, and Linda tries not to flinch at how cold the hand that grasps hers is. It also gives off that strange vaporous feeling of Sidney’s earlier handshake. Like how she imagines a solid cloud would feel like. The woman’s brows are furrowed and her soft features, also fuzzy and flickery now that she’s up close, appear worried. “My lady, are you alright?”

“I-I don’t understand,” Linda says.

Sidney gives her a guilty smile from behind the blonde woman’s shoulder. “Welcome to the Infinite Realms?”

Infinite what? She stares at them for several heartbeats. Just sits there and blinks uncomprehendingly in a thunderous silence. Until, suddenly, like an unexpected strike of springtime frost through her vulnerable tomato plants, realization slams through her, and with it a wash of ice-cold dread that snakes through her veins. It makes her stomach plummet.

She’s never been one for politics. Too depressing, she always says. But even she had heard the controversy surrounding the Federal Anti-Ecto Control Act that made waves back when her kids were still young.

It had been big news then, because not only did it confirm the existence of ecto-entities, informally known as ghosts, but it severely regulated them, too. The years following the legislature were volatile, filled with protests and many, many heated debates on television and in everyday life as everyone seemed to have some sort of opinion on the matter. Even her children joined the fray of public discontent as they grew older, holding passionate debates with each other and with their friends at the dinner table. She knew they posted about it on their social media pages, too, though Linda never gave it much thought beyond admiring them for their passion.

To be quite honest, she's never known enough about the issue to have an opinion in the first place. That’s why she’s always considered herself a happy neutral, as she does with most things politically. She’d watched the news sparingly and listened to her kids with feigned interest and was relieved when the whole thing finally blew over a few years ago when the law was successfully repealed. To say her kids were overjoyed is an understatement. She was happy for them, sure, but was more relieved that dinner conversations would be filled with something else for a change.

For Linda, ghosts have never been much of an interest for her. Just another thing in this wacky world. She’s always had other things to worry about. Like planting her azaleas and keeping the deer away from her hostas.

Until now.

Her new coworkers are ghosts. And she is in their world.

“Oh, how she trembles,” the blonde woman—no, ghost—says. She touches her cool hand to Linda’s cheek.

“Man, she looks as pale as you, Ember,” a male ghost with scraggly blonde hair and a leather jacket laughs.

“Yeah, well your face is about to look like the bottom of my boot if you keep your shit up, Johnny,” the ghost with the flaming blue hair snaps, who Linda realizes must be Ember.

“Couldn’t you have picked a younger human?” Johnny mutters to Sidney, his red eyes appraising Linda from her sensible flats to her flowy blouse. “This one’s not bad on the eyes but she’s so old.”

A ghost girl with shaggy green hair dressed in red leather and fishnets glares icily at Johnny with her arms crossed. “Johnny!” she whines. “Don’t be a pig. She’s basically an old mom.”

Johnny raises his hands in supplication. “I’m just saying!”

Face flushing with anger, Sidney whirls to glare at the taller ghost. “Well, I think she looks lovely and matronly.”

“Just as I said.” Johnny pouts. “Total vibe killer.”

Linda continues to stare at them all, dumfounded, then asks in a small, quivering voice, “Am I dead?”

The room goes silent as the ghosts huddling around her all turn their gazes to each other, perplexed, then gape down at her again. Several of them—Ember, the mechanical ghost, and Johnny—burst out laughing.

“No, heavens no!” Sidney says, kneeling to her, and with the blonde ghost’s help, they bring Linda to her feet. She sways a little, still disorientated from her impromptu floor nap, but manages to remain upright. For the time being, at least.

Back on her feet, she catches the eye of the gargantuan ghost wolf again. Its tail thumps as their gazes meet—thump, thump, thump. Then it rises from its desk in a mass of fur and claws and teeth and—oh god, it’s approaching her. Linda tries not to cower away from it, craning her neck to hold its gaze as it comes so close that it looms above her. She does flinch when it extends a mug of a roiling green liquid to her.

“Trinki?” the wolf asks, its voice deep and guttural, as if the words were forcing their way through a throat made of steel wool.

She stares uncomprehendingly at the swarm of bubbles that leap from the mug and twirl about the air. As the bubbles pop, they emit small puffs of vapor that kind of looks like smoke but feels like little gasps of frosty breath. Not wanting to be rude, Linda accepts the cup and stares at it, cringing a little as a barrage of bubbles assaults her face.

“Th-thank you,” she says shakily, holding the cup away from her face some.

The wolf’s mouth stretches into a hideous grin. Its tail thumps again, louder this time—thump, thump. Linda tries not to stare at the wall of ivory teeth, though she does swallow hard. The wolf murmurs something to her in that strange language, pointing at the cup, then to Linda. “Trinki?”

“Y-you w-want me to . . . to drink this?”

Thump, thump, thump.

“Wulf,” Sidney drawls, “she’s a human! She can’t drink ectoplasm!”

“But aren’t humans always sipping from their mugs while working!?” the blonde ghost asks.

“It is true!” Technus shouts from his cubicle, a single bony hand appearing above the divider and with a finger pointed. “I saw it on the interwebs!”

Wulf’s computer pings. Its—his? Linda isn’t certain—ears prick as he lopes back to his desk, tongue lolling from his mouth, and then spins the computer to face the entire room. Linda blinks at the screen. It’s a Binterest page full of coffee memes. Wulf beams at her with his giant grin, tail now a symphony of thumps that would put any of the drummers in her vinyl collection to shame.

Sidney throws his hands. “That’s coffee, you good for nothin’ turkeys! You know, like what the boss drinks?” Muttering, he takes the mug from Linda and returns it to Wulf, who stares at it with his ears flat against his skull.

The mechanical ghost snorts. “Ah, yes, the bean water.”

“No, not bean water, Skulker. Coffee. Coffee,” Sidney says.

Ember jerks her chin at a translucent ghost, which looks more like a blob than anything resembling a human, even a former one, as it floats past them with a stack of papers. “Oi, you there!”

The blob whirls, its trio of eyes widening and flicking between Ember and Linda.

“It’s really no issue!” Linda tries, but Ember waves her off.

“Go into Babypop’s office and get some bean vomit for the human. He’s got that little machine thing set up in there for it.”

Linda gives the blob ghost her most apologetic smile, which seems to incite the creature into a frenzy, because it throws its papers into the air with a little screech and darts for a nondescript door at the far end of the room. The papers flutter to the floor and no one makes a move to grab them. They all stand in an awkward silence, staring at each other, until the blob ghost returns and hands Linda the steaming serving of coffee in a mug that says, “World’s Most Okayest Funeral Director.”

“Oh, uh, thank you.” She takes a tentative sip while the entire office watches her intently. The sound of which is painfully loud in the bated silence, as if everyone is collectively holding their breath so they don’t miss her reaction. Do ghosts even need to breathe? Linda doesn’t know. She’s never felt more woefully ignorant than she does right now. She swallows the coffee along with her mortification and tries to smile. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

A collective wave of relief rushes through the room as the ghosts seem to relax a little. The tension, which had been as sharp as a chef’s blade, dulls to that of one of her butter knives.

The effect is short lived.

Linda gasps as the lights start to flicker. The office area, which was already chilly, cools even further until she’s left shivering. Then she gets a prickling feeling. It’s the kind of feeling that raises the hair on the back of her neck; like there’s an immense and overwhelming presence in the room. One that makes everything feel heavier than it should. Oppressive, almost.

Her breath wafts from her mouth in a little wisp of vapor. “Wh-what is happening?”

Ember rolls her eyes and shoots Linda a dry look. “Babypop is back.”

Linda doesn’t know what that means, but then Johnny is chuckling, shaking his head. “And he’s pissed.”

She doesn’t get the chance to ask what that means, because every ghost turns to face a set of ornate iron doors at the far end of the office. They stand out, completely out of place in the blandness of eggshell paint and motivational cat posters, like something she’d expect to see in those Lord of the Circles movies her husband and kids adore so much. The room is silent again, but it’s different this time, though she can’t place why, and then a phantom wind blows the doors open and a tall figure strides through them.

Linda pales. Her knees weaken as she stumbles forward, fingers digging into the nearest desk for support. She almost drops her coffee.

She recognizes him instantly. His face is all over the news. Has been for years, really. Her kids had posters of him plastered to their walls growing up, and they’re still there today, pinned up in their childhood bedrooms. They always said how cool it was to have a superhero in real life, like in the comic books and movies. This version of him is different than the posters, though. He’s older now, and much, much taller.

Scarier, too.

The Ghost King, King Phantom, in a starlight cloak that sweeps the ground and with a crown of acid-green fire flickering atop his head, stalks past the rows and rows of cubicles fringing his path, his expression furious. Linda’s so frozen with a jumbled mix of fear and shock that she’s unable to move, even as the unbearable weight of his presence turns stifling. It’s like he’s a thundercloud, all ozone and lightning and every one of her nightmares incarnate.

When he reaches the room’s center he stops so abruptly that it makes a group of blob ghosts scatter.  He turns, slowly, and levels the entire room with a flat look. “How many times have I told you guys to stop with the staring every time I walk in here?! It’s annoying and weird and I’m not in the mood for it.”

“Oh heyyyy, boss!” Sidney says, making wild hand motions to the other ghosts and effectively prompting them to return to whatever their duties are. He rushes toward the King and smiles tremulously. “How was your outing?”

“My what?”

“Your press conference, dumbass,” Ember says. Linda shrinks away from Ember and sidles closer to Wulf, unsure of what to do with herself. Fortunately, the King doesn’t appear to have noticed her yet.

King Phantom sighs exaggeratedly. “It went great. Knocked it right out of the park. The humans love us and we’re all gonna be best friends.”

“That is wonderful!” the blonde ghost exclaims.

“Sarcasm, Dora. That was sarcasm.”

Sidney’s smile looks pained. “Aren’t you running a bit late for—?”

“The meeting with the Court of Eyeballs?” The King says. “Sure am, but it’s intentional. Had to make a pitstop home first. The Eyeballs love me so they won’t mind at all.”

Dora clasps her hands. “Well at least your relations have improved with the council!”

The King runs a hand through his white hair and stares at the ceiling. “Dora. Sarcasm.” He frowns and then turns to address the group of ghosts hovering near Linda. Wulf, Johnny, Kitty, Skulker, Dora, and Ember. “You guys good holding down the fort? I’ll have time to meet with you tomorrow maybe.” The frown intensifies. “Actually, you know what, scratch that, I’m booked tomorrow too.” He throws his hands and storms toward the door Linda’s coffee was stolen from. “Just—don’t break anything!”

Without another word, he vanishes right through the plain-looking door, and thank the heavens, the heft of his presence leaves with him. The absence of it makes her sag with relief and she lets out a long, shaky breath.  

She sets her now cold coffee down on Wulf’s desk and her hand is shaking bad enough that the cup rattles against the wood. The sound of it draws everyone’s attention to her once again.

Sidney beelines for her, concern written all over his freckled face. “Miss Linda, are you okay?”

No, she’s not okay. What she thought was a relaxing remote job has turned into something perilous. She’s in a dimension that is not her own, surrounded by ghosts, and in the presence of the famed Ghost King, no less.

She doesn’t know much about him, but she does know some of the rumors. They range from him being the protector of some small town, to stealing children in their sleep, to possessing governing officials and forcing them to support his cause, and many, many more. She’s never cared before, so she’s the first to admit she’s absolutely clueless as to who he is as a . . . person? Well, his character, anyway.

All she knows for certain is that he’s a powerful being shrouded in controversy—and Linda wants none of that in her life. She’s too . . . well, this just isn’t her. She’s a simple gal and these things aren’t in her wheelhouse. This is much too un-boring for the ready-to-retire Linda Miller.

Trembling, Linda gathers her things. She finds her papers and her Rubbermaid container of cookies and hugs them tight to her chest, as if gripping them for dear life. She starts edging closer and closer to the black and silver door while her heart rattles against her ribs like a caged bird. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Sidney looks crestfallen. “Awe dang, really? Okay. Your contract is binding, but we won’t make you carry it out here if you really don’t want to.”

Wulf’s once-thumping tail has stilled, a mere shadow that curls around his clawed feet, tucked between his legs. His ears are downturned as he fidgets with his bone tie. Ember and Skulker lean together, their mouths pursed into thin lines, and Dora is giving her a sad smile. Kitty turns to Johnny and gives him an I-told-you-so look. The other ghosts, the octopus-thing, and the blobs, and so many more she can barely see hidden behind rows of cubicles, all watch her with variations of the same resigned yet unsurprised expression. The door to King Phantom’s office remains blessedly closed.

“Th-thank you,” Linda manages. “It . . .  was a pleasure m-m-meeting you all.”

Quietly and without preamble, Sidney walks her to the door and opens it for her.

Linda nearly collapses with relief, because at the end of the hallway is a square of golden light, shining like a beacon. She even sees the crumbling red brick and the desk she interviewed at. It takes all her self-control to keep from bolting toward it. Instead, the instinctual urge to remain polite niggles at her, and she turns to thank Sidney for his kindness and his hospitality, even if he is a ghost.

His saddened expression stops her in her tracks.

He stares at his feet, a single wingtipped shoe toeing at the little metal transition that separates the bland carpeting from the inky blackness of the supernatural hallway. It strikes her then just how young he is. Or must have been, because his boyish features remind her so strongly of her son’s when he was a teenager that she’s momentarily flabbergasted into stillness.

“Thanks for giving it a whirl, Miss Linda,” Sidney says. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty neat.”

Linda’s brows knit. Something in her chest tightens. “You do?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I? I bet you’re a hoot. Too cool for school.” He smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah, lady, you’re cool as shit!” Johnny shouts, giving her a thumbs up. Hanging off his arm, Kitty gives a lopsided smirk and nods.    

“I agree!” Dora beams. “It was wonderful to meet you.”

Linda stares at them all.

Cool. They think she’s cool. Her, Linda Miller. Even her own kids have never called her that. Linda swallows back a sudden surge of emotion because she’s never been cool before. It makes that something inside her chest flutter and swell a little—and with that feeling comes the guilt. And just like that, her fear ebbs away until all that’s left behind is her guilt and her bleeding heart. “You all think I’m  . . . cool?”

Ember shrugs. “Eh, why wouldn’t we? It ain’t often we get meat bags here. Especially badass old ladies.”

“I bet in your younger years you would’ve made a worthy huntress,” Skulker says with a jerked nod of his metal chin.

Warmth blooms inside Linda then and suddenly she no longer cares that she’s in a room full of ghosts. She smiles, warmly, then glances toward Sidney who’s still staring at the floor with a forlorn expression. She opens the lid of her cookie container and offers it to him. Sidney’s eyes are shiny as he plucks one of the cookies free and inspects it, slowly, as if he’s never seen one before.

“Golly, Miss Linda, I haven’t had one of these since ma made them for me.” He takes a tentative bite, and his eyes widen behind his glasses. “It’s heavenly.”

Linda grins back at him.

“What, no fair! Let me get one!” Ember shrieks.

“Me first!” screeches Kitty.

“Ladies last!” Johnny shouts.

“Mrrrmmmmmmmm!” cries the octopus as it waves all eight of its tentacles in a blur of green and orange, papers and stamps flying everywhere.

Linda barely notices when the container of cookies is whisked from her hands and thrust into a tumultuous crowd of grabby hands. She’s too focused on Sidney and the childlike awe in his expression.  

“Thank you,” Sidney says through a mouthful of cookie mash. He still looks sad but at least he’s smiling now. “Your contract will technically still be active, but we’ll just say you’re taking an extended leave. It’s been a pleasure workin’ with ya.” He opens the door wider and makes a grandiose gesture toward the sliver of her world winking in the distance.

But Linda doesn’t move.

Instead, her fingers curl into the crooks of her crossed arms. She thumbs her wedding band as nervousness needles her. “And what would I be doing if I stayed?”

“Uh, pardon?”

“What would be my role?” she clarifies. “HR? Bookkeeping? It’s been a minute, but I still know my way around some excel formulas.” She winks. “I’ve been told I make a mean spreadsheet.”

Sidney blinks at first, until the reality of what she’s actually saying settles in, and then his entire face splits in half with the widest grin she’s ever seen. “You mean it?! You’ll stay?!”

“I’ll give it my best shot,” she says. “But I do have one question.”

“Shoot!”

“What is my job?”

Sidney laughs like she’s just told the funniest joke. And Linda laughs along with him because she’s never been funny before, either, and having someone laugh at something she said brings her an unknowable joy. But then the laughter subsides, and she’s sent on her way, returning to her world with her empty Rubbermaid and still unclear on what her job even is. Oh well. There’s always tomorrow.  

Perhaps the life of Linda Miller isn’t so boring after all.

[danis-artss]

Not patiently waiting on my Danny Phantom plushie that I ordered. I need it I need it I need it. ︎<3

[danis-artss]

Some Danny doodles from the past month! Don’t… judge me for being completely addicted to drawing him, okay? I can’t help myself. ;D

Also, I love love love the lasso brush tool in Magma. Wish Procreate had that too!

[danis-artss]

Little finished version of something i drew during one of the Phantom Core servers Drawgethers :>

The... hehe.. Red Huntr/x

[danis-artss]

READ IT AHHHH

The Human Resource (Invisobang 2025)

READ ON AO3

Linda Miller, a middle-aged empty nester with nothing better to do, thought she was just answering an ad to a remote human resources job. What she didn’t expect was an interdimensional gateway in her home office and to be accidentally employed by the Ghost King. That, coupled with brewing political tension between worlds, and suddenly her boring life isn’t so boring anymore. At least her new coworkers are spirited. Takes place about twenty years after the first season. (Works canon adjacent with AGiT, or with the series if you ignore PP

Woo, finally getting around to making the tumblr post for this. I had the wonderful opportunity of participating in Invisobang this year! It was such a wonderful experience and I had so much fun working with the other authors and artists.

And speaking of art, this fic has a few pieces! Shout out to @danis-artss and @i-think-in-metaphors for their STUNNING contributions. I am in awe of you guys. Seriously.

Anyway, here are their art posts:

Seriously, guys?!?!?! So fucking cool. I can't even get over it. Send them some love if you can!

Anyway, without further ado, let's get into the fic!

Chapter 1/12

The Human Resource

unsalted butter - the best is Kerry Gold Pure Irish. great flavor and super creamy. 1 cup softened

An abandoned warehouse is a peculiar place for a job interview, Linda decides.

She fidgets in the rickety chair of the strange shoebox-sized office. Above her, dust motes stream in through a cracked windowpane. Caught in the midmorning sun, they shimmer and twirl about the room like little dancing ghosts. She’s just grateful for the fresh air.  

“Thanks for showin’ up today, Linda,” a warbly voice says. “The response to the ad so far has been quieter than a drive-in after curfew.”

The voice comes from the old computer lurking on the desk in front of her. The kind with thick bezels and, save for the screen, is comprised of beige plastic. A rare sight in the age of shining, paper-thin tech. A dense film of dust and rodent droppings blankets the keyboard.

Linda squints. Now, she’s not the most technologically savvy person out there (that’s what her kids are for. Well, when they’re not in college), but even she knows that a video call is meant to go both ways. Her mysterious interviewer can see her, as that crackling voice already complimented her patterned glasses—or cheaters, they’d called them—but all she is able to see in return is a dark screen and the occasional burst of static.

“Well, thank you for having me,” Linda says. She leans forward and adjusts her glasses. “Though I’m having trouble seeing you.” She taps the screen. “Is this thing on?”

“Oh, my camera appears to not be working,” the voice says after an odd chuckle. “It’s okay though. We don’t need it.”

“Are you certain? I could always call my son. He’s a whiz at computer!”

“It’s, uh, no problemo, ma’am.” Her interviewer clears their throat. “Technu—er, tech support, will handle it. These things tend to happen from time to time, I’m afraid.”

Linda nods in commiseration. “Well, that’s what we get for relying on computers for everything nowadays. Can’t get anything done right.”

“Ah, yes. Of course . . . well, tell me a little about yourself, ma’am.”

Her brows furrow. “About myself?”

“What, uh, makes you feel qualified for this occupational endeavor?”

Linda purses her lips as she ponders the question.

Truth be told, she really has no idea. When she left the workforce nearly two decades ago, she didn’t think she would ever return, much less on the cusp of her golden years. She was content gardening away her summers and filling the colder nights with her spicy book club or bingo and wine with the girls. But returning to a 9 to 5? It never even crossed her mind.

Not until she received the email, that is.

She noticed it the other day while reading through her spam inbox. Despite her son’s constant warnings to avoid that little folder and even going so far as to mass delete its contents every chance he got, Linda still liked to scroll through it on occasion. No harm no foul, right? She’s always been the curious sort—much to the chagrin of her husband and children—and always at her nosiest when she’s bored. So, it was no surprise that as her freshly clean house filled with the aroma of baking cookies, and with the steady hum of tumbling laundry the only sound to splinter the uncanny silence she’d yet to acclimate to, that she decided to check.     

ARE YOU DEAD TIRED OF YOUR BORING JOB? the Email said. HOW ABOUT A REMOTE JOB WORKING WITH A SPIRITED TEAM?

Curiosity piqued, she opened it and read through its details. Which wasn’t much. A small spiel about being a new start-up company and needing someone with experience as a human resource. The wording was strange, sure, but nothing too off the wall, so in a moment boredom induced whimsy she responded. And now—

Linda straightens in her chair and interlaces her fingers in her lap. “I’ve been out of the office for . . .  a while,” she admits, “but before I left to raise my kids full time, I worked with a small team at O’Neil Steel and Fabrication.”

“I see. And what were your responsibilities there?”

“Human resources, mostly, but it was a pretty small team so I was able to wear several hats.”

“What sort of team?”

“Well, it was a manufacturing plant back in the day. About thirty employees total between the office and the shop floor. Because it was so small, the girls and I handled everything from HR to purchasing to setting up the company parties.”

“Ah, so multifaceted. That’s pretty swell,” the voice says. “Sooo listen, Linda, tell me . . . can you be discreet?”

Oh no, here it is, the trick question her daughter warned her about. She resists the urge to wipe her sweaty palms on her slacks. “Absolutely,” she says, “if it’s expected of me.”

“How do you feel about, er, spirited coworkers?”

“I think having an abundance of spirit in the workplace is a wonderful thing!” Linda says, and she means it. Back when she worked for O’Neil, she and her girls had been quite the rowdy bunch, making every workday some new fun and wacky adventure.

“That’s great!” The voice sounds relieved. “When can ya start?”

She sputters, shocked at the abrupt turn in conversation. “Are you hiring me? Just like that?”

“We sure are! I wouldn’t yank yer chain, Linda. Boss said we need a human resource, and it looks like we found a good one!” There’s a pause, and the voice adds, “Next to the desk is a filing cabinet. Inside you’ll find the necessary paperwork. Middle drawer.”

She blinks and turns to the shabby little three drawer filing cabinet squatting beside the desk. It takes some effort to yank it open, almost as if it hasn’t been touched in years, and inside is a lone manila folder. Written in bold ink on the first page is a form that says:

     NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT (NDA)

     Party Disclosing Information: Fantom Works INC.

     Party Receiving Information: Linda Miller

She skims over the rest of the document. Oh, how she wishes she’d gotten her prescription updated when she was supposed to, as the words blur so much that she struggles to read them. No matter. Every one of these things is all the same. She does make the mental note to schedule the appointment, though.

Now if only she just had a—oh.

There’s a pen on the desk she hadn’t noticed before. She picks it up and tilts it this way and that, admiring the luster of the green gel ink and the way it practically glows in the light pouring in from the overhead windows. It’s strange that they’ve provided her with a green pen, but oh well, with a shrug and a little laugh, she signs the bottom.

Suddenly, a shrieking gust of cold wind rushes through the room. It stirs the papers and nips at the back of her neck, just as a tarnished floor lamp in the corner of the room starts to flicker uncontrollably. Frowning at the anomalies, she rubs the gooseflesh from her arms as the room’s chill washes through her bones. If only she hadn't left her sweater at home. Though, in her defense, she hadn’t thought she would need it, considering the Midwest was in the midst of an unseasonable heatwave.

“Great, you signed it!” The tinny voice exclaims, making her start. A shuffling noise and a mechanical whir rattle from somewhere on her mysterious interviewer’s end.

“What was that noise?” she asks. She can’t help it—she’s always been the nosy sort. It drives her husband up the wall.

“Nothing, just busybody coworkers,” the voice responds. The shuffling stops and the static dissipates until a mousy young man with freckles and dark, slicked-back hair appears. Glinted light shines from a pair of thick framed glasses that he pushes up the bridge of his nose.

She squints at the screen, leaning in close, and tilts her head. “Are you using one of those filters?”

“Uh, filter?”

“My kids use them constantly,” she bemoans, “but it looks like you’re using a black and white retro one.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. It’s the grinchiest.” His eyes flick to somewhere offscreen as he laughs and fidgets with a curious little bowtie around his neck. “Well, miss Linda, it was a pleasure meeting ya. We look forward to having you in the fam.”

She gives him her most winning smile. “Thank you so much for the opportunity!”

The young man returns the smile, revealing a set of buck teeth. “Meet here at the same time tomorrow and we’ll get you all set up with the riff raff!”

Before Linda can respond, the computer screen goes dark. She stares at it, perplexed for several reasons.

Firstly, she never did get her interviewer's name.

Secondly, she had been under the impression that this was to be a remote job where she could work from her home office. Perhaps this is just their method of onboarding? Get to know the team first before she is sent out on her own?

And thirdly, which is perhaps the most confounding thing of all, she has no idea what this little start up shindig is even about. Fantom Works Incorporated? Such a strange name, indeed.

Linda frowns as she rises to her feet and snags her purse from the back of her chair, slinging it across her shoulder. Hands on her hips, she surveys the room in thought, from the dirty floor and the crumbling brick walls to the shadowy pits in the ceiling where several drop ceiling tiles have gone missing.

They certainly have their work cut out for them if they want to get this place up running anytime soon, she thinks.

Tsking to herself, she shuffles the manila folder against the desk until it’s neat and orderly, then returns it to the filing cabinet. The drawer lets out a baleful screech as she shoves it closed, and she grits her teeth at the sound of it.

It’s as she emerges from the ramshackle room and weaves her way through the mangled innards of the warehouse’s main floor that another thought occurs to her; they hadn’t discussed her wages. No matter, she is mostly doing this for fun, anyway. With her kids now in college, her husband, bless him, had practically begged her to find some sort of hobby, lest she nag him into an early afterlife.

She leaves the warehouse and sings along with the radio the entire drive home, tapping to the beat of the music on her steering wheel.

Just another day in the boring life of Linda Miller.

~

The next morning, Linda returns to the warehouse with her spirits bright. She stayed up late (a whole half hour past her normal bedtime of 9 P.M. sharp), to make her new coworkers a platter of her famous chocolate chunk cookies. In an effort to further bolster her confidence, she’d even made sure to wear her best blouse, which is a flattering sky blue that accentuates the silver threading through her brown hair, and her favorite flats. She’s humming a merry tune as she strides into the building—that is, until something strange stops her in her tracks.

The warehouse is empty. Not a single living soul can be seen anywhere. No equipment has been shuffled through the sea of dust; no office furniture added to line the walls. The air is still just as stale, drenched with the aroma of mold and rotting wood. As far as she can tell, nothing has changed since yesterday, which makes a small pit of unease uncoil in the pit of her stomach.

Perhaps they have yet to move in and just want to get her situated in their midst first? Yes, that's it. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.

Floorboards shriek as she makes her way to that little dilapidated office at the back of the warehouse. She enters, which sends a maelstrom of dust bunnies scurrying, and stifles a cough that tickles the back of her throat.

The room looks the same as yesterday, except for the desk where there is now a single piece of bright green paper, and on it, a series of words scrawled in purple ink.

“The door handle turns the opposite way,” Linda reads aloud, “and even though it says pull, make sure you push it super hard.” She frowns at the paper. “What in the world?”

She folds the paper and tucks it into her purse. A cool breeze wafts across the back of her neck, which is odd considering how warm it is outside—a record, in fact, according to the weatherman. She shivers and turns to face the breeze.  

“What in the world?!” she gasps.

A door stands out like a sore thumb against the wall of crumbled brick. While the brickwork is old and weathered with varying shades of red and brown, the door is sleek and as black as night, with a doorknob of gleaming silver. In an elegant font that matches the silver of the doorknob is a single word: Pull.

Linda is the first to admit that she’s not always the most observant gal out there, but she really doesn’t understand how she missed this door. She hadn’t noticed it yesterday and certainly didn’t see it as she entered the office again today, either. And even stranger, the door is placed not towards the rest of the warehouse, but on the exterior wall. Maybe there is an addition?

Her unease continues to roil as she stares at the door, fingers tightening on her Rubbermaid cookie container. Something doesn’t seem right. None of this is adding up. She debates leaving right then and there. She should return home and maybe work in her garden. Or call up her favorite neighbor two houses down and invite her over for coffee.

But then, Linda Miller has always been the nosy sort.

Steeling herself, her hand lowers to the doorknob. The metal is as cold as ice beneath her fingers. So cold, in fact, that it causes her to flinch away from it in surprise. She grits her teeth and tries again, about to pull the door open when she remembers the note and pushes it instead, turning the handle until she feels its mechanism release. It takes some effort, but the door finally gives and swings open.

Icy wind whooshes past her, roaring in her ears, as a dark and impossibly long hallway stretches into the distance. A sliver of warm light flickers at the end of it. Linda gasps, heart in her throat, and stumbles backward while grappling for the door, but her hands glide through empty air. She whirls to find the blackness now continues behind her, too. Somehow, she’d stepped into the hallway without even realizing it, and now the door is nowhere to be found.

“Linda! Ya made it!” a voice says, startling her so much that she gasps and whirls again to face the too long hallway, hand on her chest.

Her mysterious interviewer has somehow appeared within the blink of an eye. He looks much younger and shorter than she initially thought him to be. Younger than her kids, even. Here in the dim light, her eyes seem to be playing tricks on her because he still seems leached of color. Just like that fancy computer effect he used during their call yesterday. She blinks at him, resisting the urge to scrub at her eyes.

He grins and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Great mornin’ to ya, ma’am!” He sticks out his hand to her. “The name’s Sidney. Sidney Poindexter.”

Despite being dazed, Linda has enough wherewithal to let him shake her hand. His grip feels firm and yet, somehow, like nothing at all, as if she’s shaking hands with autumn fog. She stares, wide eyed, trying to make sense of his achromatic features and the strange way he appears fuzzy to her eyes. His features are hard to make sense of, even with the dim light that bathes his soft, boyish face.

“It’s g-good to meet you,” she manages to choke out.           

“The pleasure is all mine!” Sidney grins again and gestures down the hallway. “Come see the pad and meet the troops. They’ve all been dying to meet you!” He chuckles as he turns, which makes Linda feel like she’s missing something. She laughs along with his joke anyway.

She starts to follow him, but casts a final glance behind her as she walks, wondering how in the world the door she entered through is nowhere to be found? There is a reasonable explanation, she’s certain of it. The hallway is dark. Maybe she just missed it in the shadows? But then, this room being here at all doesn’t make sense, either. Just where in the world is she?

Her thoughts feel like they are fizzling out of her ears as she enters a large room that is blindingly bright. It leaves her disorientated as she blinks, struggling to comprehend the sight that unfurls from the brightness like a curtain being drawn from a stage. All that’s missing are the hoots and howls of a cheering crowd.

Sidney Poindexter, who even in the light is still just as achromatic as ever, turns to look at her and his smile drops. “Miss, are you alright?”

No, Linda thinks. I’m not alright. I’ve gone mad.   

The room itself is as bland as any office normally is. Sensible office furniture and rows of cubicles lines her vision. The floor is a thin speckled carpet, surrounded by walls that are eggshell white, and in the ceiling, she can hear the fluorescent lights buzzing away like little bees. But that’s not what makes her eyeballs practically bulge from her head in shock.

The occupants of the office stare back at her. The entire room, which had been filled with chatter, is now silent as eyes of every shape and color watch her with interest. Linda doesn’t understand what she’s seeing.

From its oversized L-shaped desk, a giant luminescent octopus is scribbling frantically on seven different papers, while its eighth tentacle stamps them all and shuffles them into a pile. It notices her with its six beady eyes, movements slowing until it, too, freezes and stares back at her, all eight tentacles suspended mid-movement, as if someone had gone up to it and hit an invisible pause button.

Translucent shapes with groups of eyes—some with two, some with four, and even some with none at all—have all frozen midair to gape at her, their little bodies flickering like static under the bright overhead lights. Some hold stacks of papers, and others strange artifacts or great scrolls that dwarf them in size.

Near one of the cubicles, a girl with flaming blue hair and dark makeup leans against a desk, a single eyebrow arched over one of her electric green eyes. Her features are fuzzy like Sidney’s. When their gazes meet, she grins wickedly and turns to whisper to a great mechanical man, which makes him erupt with booming laughter. Another woman, green-skinned, and with hair that falls down her shoulders in soft golden waves, beams as she floats—actually floats—across the room to Sidney’s side.

“Greetings!” the woman exclaims. “You must be Linda! Sidney has told us you would be starting with us today!”

Linda just stares at her. Then her eyes focus past the woman’s shoulder and to the desk behind her. Glowing papers float before a colossal, black-furred wolf sitting at the desk, a single mug of something steaming held to its fanged mouth. It’s even wearing a tie. Black and dappled with tiny cartoon bones. When she meets the wolf’s stare it gives her a little wave and grins. Grins.

That’s when Linda faints.

[danis-artss]

No art today, but look what i made !

Danny phantom-ified my phone with vinyls i cut with my cricut, and 3 new charms i made based on my stickers !

[danis-artss]

It's posting time !

This was my first time participaing in the Invisobang, and it was super fun !!

I made one illustration and two chibis for @roarri 's new phic:

The Human Resource

You should read it ! it's super fun !

[danis-artss]

My part of the @invisobang for my Amazing author @datawyrms who wrote Temporal Fragments! Go Check it out!

[danis-artss]

BEWARE!

⟢ IT’S INVISOBANG TIME!

Who’s excited? Definitely me!

This was my first time participating to Invisobang and it was so much fun! I made two art pieces for @mossy-covered-bones awesome phic: [If It Was Gunna Kill You].

None-GIF’s under the cut.

[danis-artss]

Turns out that Danno is basically one bubbletea tall

[danis-artss]

No One Knows AU, but the actual story part takes place 10-15 years later at a high school reunion.

The usual No One Knows AU stuff, where there were rumors that Danny was running around with weirdos nobody recognized(ghosts), or that he was doing substances, he distanced himself from Sam and Tucker, ect.

After he barely scraped by and graduated, Danny left town and nobody could ever find any information on him, not from social media, or jobs or anything. Even his family hadn't really heard from him, just texts every few months that essentially equated to; "Haven't died(lol) in a ditch somewhere". Honestly people mostly forgot about Danny until it was time for the reunion. They couldn't find any new adresses or anything to send him an invite, so they sent his invite to his parents who let him know about the event, but Danny never responded so everyone assumed he wouldn't attend.

The reunion starts up, people chatting, and trying to prove how much better their lives are over another even though they all mostly peaked in highschool(cough*Dash*cough), before devolving into rumors and gossip about Danny, and his life thats sure to be crap, to make themselves feel better.

Their chatter is cut off by someone walking in. They cut an imposing figure, every step that echos on the gym floor commanding attention and respect. They have a familar, and unnatural glow, and they're tall, as tall as Jack Fenton, but lacking the man's bulk. They're wearing a suit that looks like it belongs in a fantasy manwha, with long white and black hair thats braided over their shoulder, some extinct flowers(not blood blossoms obviously) braided intricately through the locks, leading up to a glittering crystalline crown that seems to float above their head rather than sit upon their head. They're talking on the phone as they enter, an equally as impeccably dressed, and glowing, assistant walking beside them with a clipboard, and a number of papers.

Everyone is whispering, wondering who just walked in, as Star, the one who arranged the reunion, walks forward to ask, the person gets off the phone, handing it to their assistant. Before Star can ask who they are, they turn towards the reunion goers, revealing their unobscurred face.

"Sorry I'm late, Demons have no sense of timing." And everyone is stunned, because that, that is a very familiar voice, the voice of Danny Fenton.

"No timing indeed your highness." The assistant hummed in agreement, ignorant to the stunned room.

'Your Highness?' The group collectively thing, someone dropping their glass. 'What the Hell?!'

Or: Usual No One Knows AU BS, after danny graduates, he doesn't see a future in the human realm, especially with the GIW/Anti Ecto Acts in place, so he goes to the Ghost Zone/Infinite Realms, where he takes his place as Ghost King. Ghosts are pretty easy to rule seeing as they litterally only care about their own obsessions/interests 90% of the time, so Danny really only has to focus on keeping peace with other species(demons, gods, angels, ect). Now in a position power, Danny is also able to reach out to the US Government and 'discuss' the Anti Ecto Acts and GIW at length until a treaty of some sort could be worked out between the them. Being King and only having to focus on one thing let's Danny decompress from the stress and running around he did as Fenton. He still goes to the human world occasionally, he does still have to eat and stretch his human sides, but he spends most of that time traveling around with Dani/Ellie. Cut to when the Reunion happens, the GIW have publicly been disbanded,(Danny revealed his ghost self to his parents and Jazz before going to the reunion, they were too stunned to really react so how they feel about it is up in the air still)anyway, Danny goes to the reunion, fancy king clothes and all since he doesn't have to hide anymore.

[danis-artss]

All hail the twinky ass ghost king

In the name of the box ghost, the fruit loop and the ghost king 💅 amen

[danis-artss]

It is tiiiiime for another screenshot redrawwwwww whooop !

As someone on the phantom core server said:

"ghost zone smells nice today"

[danis-artss]

Completely forgot to post these photos but... i turned 21 on the 23rd !!!

And with that: i got my lil danny :>

And today he and i are on an adventure to meet my grandmother in bavaria :>

He is very excited

[danis-artss]

GUYS LOOK AT MY LOVELY LITTLE TIME TWINK CLOCKWORKS APPRENTICE AHHHHHHH I AM FUCKING

Deceased

⊹₊⟡⋆ HAPPY BIRTHDAY ⊹₊⟡⋆

Birthday gift for @danis-artss ! :D

Our birthday’s are in the same month, and she gave me the most precious gift (picture under the cut)! I can’t do the same unfortunately… my printer has no ink anymore );

[danis-artss]

Bitter Reunions RePhanimated Signups Open!

Sign ups close on: September 15th Scenes assigned by: September 20th

The RePhanimated project for the episode Bitter Reunions has begun!

Project rules: - Please use a 4:3 aspect ratio (e.g. 1024x768) - You may use any form of media, it can be 2D, 3D, sock puppets, anything as long as you make it! - Have fun with your shot! You may use AUs, fan designs, anything you want! Just make sure the characters are recognisable to their source material counterparts. - Use of AI will not be tolerated, you will be removed from the project immediately. - If you are falling behind and require an extension please notify the head of the project ASAP, the same is required should you be unable to finish your scene(s) and need them reassigned. - If you want to collaborate with another person then feel free to do so! - Communication is key, if you do not respond to the head of the project within 5 days of a check-in then your scenes will be made open for someone else to take them, should you be away for any of the check-ins then contact the admin as soon as possible. - Discord is optional, but please give a method of contact in your signup form so we can perform any required check-ins!

Scene Breakdowns - excuse the low quality, will be fixed Signup sheet

Project deadline: 15th March 2027 Check ins: 1 - March 15th 2026 - aim for 25% completion 2 - July 15th 2026 - aim for 50% completion 3 - October 15th 2026 - aim for 75% completion 4 - January 15th 2027 - aim for 90% completion

The sooner your scenes are started the better, please do not leave things until last minute to work on as communication is key to this project! Extensions will be exactly 1 month from the initial check-in date, not when you contact us. e.g. March 15th will be April 15th. If you are unable to meet any of the check-ins please let the admin of the project know as soon as possible! If you do not respond in 5 days your scene will be re-assigned or open for reclaim.

[danis-artss]

What a crossover art day ! After watching the sailor moon cosmos movie, i turned on kimi no na wa on my boyfies BIG new TV and ahhhhh i LOVED it ! Watched it for like the sixth time !

Will prolly rewatch Elfenlied tomorrow/later lol :3

But have this your name inspired art of danny and sam !