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[darthfrodophantom]

[darthfrodophantom]

Yes!! I love this! What a great take on this prompt!! I love putting characters in this position. Poor Spike, but he handled it well.

Spaghetti and Specters

Spike is going to his girlfriend's house for dinner to meet her family for the first time, and Man does he regret not doing any research on them beforehand. Now he has to fight for his damn life over a plate of what is honestly kind of mediocre spaghetti.

For @darthfrodophantom's prompt: Jazz brings a date home for the first time. She didn’t exactly brief them on her family’s whole ghost thing. Antics ensue.

Read on AO3

[Warnings for anxiety and overthinking spirals, mentions of abusive parents (not the Fentons)]

"You're sure about this?" he asked. "Parents don't typically like me."

He was standing on the front porch of his girlfriend's house. The sun had just gone down, and it wasn't quite dark yet, but it was starting to get cold, and it made him wish he'd brought a jacket, aesthetic be damned.

"My parents are not your parents, Spike," Jazz insisted, straightening his leather vest and fishnet sleeves, and he relished the warmth of her hands as she did so. "My younger brother has a goth friend who comes over all the time, and they've never had a problem with her. They're not the types who judge based on appearances. They may be... apprehensive, but they'll at least give you the chance to prove whether your respectable or not before they give you the shovel talk."

"Oh, joy."

His sarcasm was something his parents had tried to shame out of him for a long time, but Jazz never did. She said that it was just a coping mechanism, and a pretty common one at that. The worst she would ever do was roll her eyes like she did now.

"Come on, Spike, they're giving you a chance," she said. "The least you can do is extend them the same courtesy."

"And what about the non-binary thing? Have you told them yet?"

"My brother's trans, too, I think I've told you that before. If they hold that against you, then there are gonna be much bigger problems at this dinner than whether they like you or not," she responded, amusement lacing her tone. "I know you're anxious, and that's understandable. If you really don't want to do this, I won't force you, but you're stronger than your fear."

"You definitely want me to meet your parents?"

She shrugged and nodded. "I won't force you to, but yes, I do."

"Then I'll do it," he said. "For you."

She smiled that pearly smile of hers, the one where you could actually see that she'd never forgotten to brush her teeth in her life, and she pushed up on tip-toe to give him a kiss on the cheek. Spike was actually shorter than her, when he took his shoes off, but his platform goth boots alleviated his dysphoria over his height, and they looked damn good doing it. He liked when she stood on tip-toe to kiss him, loved the feeling of tilting his head down and wrapping his arms around her warm body and pulling her flush against him like she belonged there.

He didn't do that now, because they were standing on her front porch, illuminated by the bright neon sign overhead, and all the neighbors could see. But a kiss on the cheek was nice too.

He took a deep breath and smiled at her. His smile was small and dull, barely a twitch of the lips, and nothing like hers, dazzling, and full-toothed. She said she liked it anyway. She said it suited him. And he always believed what Jazz told him, because she was the most brilliant person he knew, and she'd never ever wrong.

"I'm ready," he said.

Jazz pushed open the door and walked in, and he followed a few steps behind her, his steps feeling mechanical and his shoulders tensed. At first glance, the inside appeared to be a perfectly normal home. On closer inspection, however, there were a few things that didn't quite fit. The vacuum cleaner in the corner looked weirdly high tech, and there was a magazine called Ectoscience Quarterly on the coffee table. The air also smell faintly of ozone and something else Spike couldn't place, something sour. Citrus maybe? No... he didn't think that was right.

Standing there, in the living room, Spike became suddenly and acutely aware that Jazz never talked about her parents. She talked about herself, and her dreams, and stories from her past; she would bring up her brother in passing from time to time, and although Spike never learned very much about him at one time, she'd mentioned him enough now that Spike had begun to form a mental image of the freshman in his mind; but she never talked about her parents.

Spike talked about his parents all the time, since Jazz was usually willing to let him vent to her, though he always asked first, just in case. He liked having someone to talk to that he trusted, and he trusted Jazz more than anyone else. She said that his family was manipulative, controlling, and emotionally abusive, and he'd never once argued with her, because they were. Jazz was always right, after all. The second he turned eighteen, he was going to move out, one way or another, and she had an open invitation to join him, although she hadn't accepted it. At least... not yet.

The most Jazz had ever said about her parents was something along the lines of, "and my parents, ugh, they're certainly not making it any easier."

That, she said kind of a lot. He'd asked before if she wanted to vent, but she always shook her head and told him she'd rather focus on other things instead of dwelling on her frustration. Her parents, apparently, frustrated her a lot, though he knew she loved them anyway. He hoped that meant that she could love him anyway, too, even when he frustrated her.

Still, that wasn't to say he knew nothing about her parents, just... almost nothing. He'd heard the Fenton name thrown around enough, at school, and by adults around town, that he'd at least gathered they were somewhat infamous, though he didn't know why. Spike was never one for eavesdropping, or gossip, and his hearing wasn't the best anyway, so he was always out of the loop on the local hot topics—except for the stores.

The Fenton Works sign on their house seemed to indicate that they owned some kind of business, although doing what, he didn't know. Maybe some kind of technology or repair shop? Although most of the business must've been online or their ground floor would be more commercial.

Come to think of it, he had seen them once before, at the beginning of the school year—months before he and Jazz had started dating, back when he was just the classmate who helped her with her psych homework. If he recalled correctly, they'd captured Jazz in a net for some reason and carried her away. Whatever that had been about, he had not wanted to get involved, especially since he honestly barely knew her back then, so he'd just left.

Now that he was in their house, surrounded by that weird, increasingly acrid smell, he was wishing he'd done a little more research before agreeing to come over for dinner.

"They're probably in the kitchen," Jazz said.

He continued to follow her through a doorway, and into what looked, on the surface, to be an ordinary kitchen. Counters, cupboards, tile floors, all perfectly ordinary. There was a decent-sized, round table in the center of the room with five mismatched place-settings, and as many mismatched chairs. There was a homey feel to it. Though it was a little cramped, and eclectic, it still felt much more welcoming than his own dining room ever did, always with a spotless tablecloth and matched sets of dishes and silverware.

But Spike also noticed suspicious green stains on the table's surface that didn't look like they could have come from any food he knew of. Just like the vacuum cleaner, all their kitchen appliances also looked like they'd be more at home on the set of a sci-fi movie than in an urban apartment. Again, he wished he'd tried to learn more before just showing up here.

There was a red-haired woman in a teal jumpsuit standing over the stove, humming pleasantly, and Jazz groaned when she saw her.

"Mom, I thought I asked you to dress normally when Spike came over!"

"But honey, this is how I normally dress," Jazz's mom replied, turning. "And you must be Spike. My, that's a nice vest! Jazz has told us a lot of nice things about you."

"Uh, yeah, that's me, and thank you," Spike said awkwardly. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Fenton."

"Oh you can just call me Maddie," she said. "And it's wonderful to meet you too. My husband's downstairs in the lab, but he'll be up for dinner, you can count on that."

She chuckled like that was supposed to be funny and Spike let out a weak, uncertain laugh so she didn't think her joke fell flat, even though he didn't understand it.

"You can go ahead and have a seat wherever you like," she told him. "Jazz, would you mind letting Danny know that dinner's almost ready? He's up in his room."

"Sure, Mom."

Jazz left the room without a second thought, and Spike was left with the utterly horrifying decision of whether to sit down at the table, risk taking someone else's usual seat and disrupting the family's usual dinner dynamic, as well as condemning himself to spending time alone with his girlfriend's mom; or backing out to find a seat in the living room, and giving Mrs. Fenton the impression that he was the kind of rude, anti-social person who would just leave her there to cook without any company or conversation.

Oh no, he realized.

He'd been standing there too long to leave. If he'd wanted to wait in the living room, he should have left the kitchen at the same time Jazz did. There was no backing out now. Now his only option was to sit at the table before he gave her the impression that he was an indecisive wuss by standing there too long. But which seat? Should he go with the one that looked the least worn? They all looked pretty worn, but maybe that was just because the seats didn't stay in the same position.

Just sit down anywhere! urged Spike's panicked thoughts. Your mere presence at the table is going to disrupt the dinner dynamic. Sit down now before she thinks your some kind of weirdo!

He reached out mechanically to pull out the chair closest to him and take a seat. Mission success. God, this was why Jazz said he probably had anxiety disorder. He was really trying to stop overthinking things so much, but this situation just made that tendency flare up like it usually only did around his own parents.

"Sorry none of the tableware matches," Mrs. Fenton said, though she was still standing over the pot, and not looking at him. "Jack and Danny are both a bit clumsy, so dishes tend to get broken a lot by mistake around here, chairs too, if you can believe it." She laughed.

When Spike smiled, he tried to make it bigger than usual, stretching his lips a little wider so she wouldn't mistake that he was smiling. It probably just looked creepy. He should stop. Should he stop? He should say something.

"I don't mind," he said. "It makes this place feel lived-in—like a home, I mean. I just think there's something kind of... uh... aloof about everything being a perfect matched set."

"You know, I like that," Mrs. Fenton said. "That's a very interesting point of view. Certainly makes me feel better about it." She laughed again. She was a cheerful woman, that or she just happened to be in a very good mood today.

"I must say, you seem like a nice boy," she said after a moment. "Jazz's last boyfriend was a punk. Very disrespectful and reckless. I don't know what she saw in him."

"I'm actually not..." Spike trailed off, unsure if he should even say anything. Jazz said her parents wouldn't mind, but he was still hesitant to contradict her mom.

"Hm? Not what, dear?"

Oh, damn it, she was already calling him dear, he couldn't lie to her now. "I'm non-binary," he said, trying to keep his voice steady and not let it fall too quiet as he spoke. "I'm Jazz's partner, not her boyfriend."

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to assume," Mrs. Fenton said immediately, looking back at him sympathetically. "Would you prefer I use they/them pronouns for you?"

"I actually prefer he/him, but they/them is fine with me, too. Whichever's easier for you."

"If you prefer he, then I'll use that," she told him. "I know that's what Jazz uses, too. I guess that's why I assumed you were a boy, but that's my bad. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

The only thing stopping Spike from tearing up at a parental figure not only correcting themself when they misgendered him, but also apologizing for it, was the fact that he'd worked so hard on his eyeliner before coming here and didn't want to smudge it by crying.

"It's alright," he said, then cleared his throat to keep his voice from shaking. "It was an honest mistake."

Jazz reappeared in the doorway then, with her little brother right behind her. Spike had seen the kid around school. He kept the company of one of the only other goth kids at Casper High, which was probably the only reason Spike had ever noticed him. He hadn't made the connection that this was Jazz's brother, though.

"Spike, right?" the boy said. "Danny. Nice to meet you." Without waiting for a response, he turned to look at his mother. "What's for dinner?" he asked.

Spike had been wondering that, too. He couldn't tell from the smell because it was overpowered by that other strange scent he still had yet to identify. He could swear he'd smelled it before, but he just couldn't place it.

"Spaghetti, Cobb salad, and garlic bread, and yes, you have to eat some salad before you leave the table," his mother replied. A timer dinged and she turned off the stove burner and put on a pair of oven mitts that were on the counter. "Danny, would you let your father know dinner's ready?"

Danny walked across the kitchen and opened a door on the far wall. Behind it was a dark, sloped hallway and some stairs, probably down to a basement.

"Dad! Dinner!" Danny called down before closing the door and walking back to take a seat at the table.

Jazz, mercifully, hung her jacket on the back of the chair to Spike's right to claim that seat. Then she went to help her mother transfer the food onto serving dishes. While the two of them started to put the food on the table, the building started to shake.

Spike grabbed the table, surprised. Was this an earthquake?

The basement door burst open, and Spike's eyes blew wide as he saw a gigantic man enter the kitchen. He was wearing an orange jumpsuit and a beaming smile that was actually strikingly like Jazz's. This must have been her father. She could have warned him that the man was a friggin' giant.

"Did I hear something about dinner?" His voice boomed, though it didn't seem like he was trying to be loud, more like he was just naturally big and imposing in every way.

"Yes, Jack, now take a seat," Mrs. Fenton told him. "Jack, that's Spike, Jazz's partner. You remembered he was coming over today, right?"

"I did not," Mr. Fenton said plainly, taking the seat on Spike's left. "It's nice to meet you, son!"

"He's non-binary, Jack," Maddie corrected gently. "He probably doesn't want to be called son."

It was true that, from a gender standpoint, son was not Spike's favorite word, but with the amount of affection Mr. Fenton had said it with, he actually didn't mind.

"Whoops, my mistake!" Mr. Fenton said. "It's nice to meet you, kiddo!" he turned to his wife. "Is that better?"

Spike tried not to get too choked up. "Yeah, thanks," he said, wondering if the Fentons could just adopt him now, or if that would be too awkward, since he was dating their daughter.

Everything was put on the table, and Jazz and her mom sat down in the remaining seats, Jazz to Spike's right, and Mrs. Fenton to her husband's left. Then the serving dishes were passed around the table so everyone could scoop themselves some spaghetti and take a slice of garlic bread and some salad (not very much salad in Danny or Mr. Fenton's case).

This part of dinner had little talking, except to ask for the salt or garlic bread to be passed. But once everyone had food in front of them, the conversation—the scary part of dinner with your girlfriend's parents—began in earnest.

"So, Spike, was it?"

Spike nodded at Mr. Fenton's question.

"What's your opinion about ghosts?"

"Dad!" Jazz whined. "Do we have to talk about ghosts at the dinner table?"

"What? It's just a question!" Mr. Fenton defended. "What else am I going to ask about?"

Jazz leaned over to Spike and shook her head. "You can ignore that. Ghosts are not a topic of conversation we have to engage with."

"No, it's fine," Spike said.

He really didn't understand why she was acting like this. They lived in Amity Park, so ghosts were a pretty common topic of conversation. When they attacked the town almost every day, that did tend to make people talk about them.

"Alright," Jazz said, as though he'd just insisted on going skydiving without any training, rather than having a conversation about current events. "If you're sure."

"Uh... I guess I'm neutral about ghosts," Spike answered finally, suddenly very unconfident in his decision to engage. He had thought ghosts would be a relatively safe topic, but he was definitely second guessing himself now. Were the Fentons some kind of ghost fanatics? "I wish they'd stop attacking our school so much, because it's really disruptive, but other than that, I don't really care one way or another."

"Disruptive, huh?" Mrs. Fenton repeated. "Yes, I'd say that's a perfect word for what ghosts are."

"Yes, although, I'll say if they were attacking my school all the time, I wouldn't exactly be neutral," Mr. Fenton agreed. "I'd want them gone."

"You want them gone anyway," Danny pointed out, rolling his eyes as he poked at his spaghetti.

This was, evidently, not the first time they'd heard all this.

Spike leaned over to his girlfriend and whispered, "Did I miss something? What's your parents' deal about ghosts?"

She turned to look at him with wide-eyed shock on her face. "Oh no," she whispered back. "Don't tell me you somehow didn't know? Everyone knows."

"Know what?"

"My parents are ghost hunters," she told him under her breath. "I thought you would have seen them making fools of themselves all over town, I didn't think there was anyone in Amity Park who didn't know, or I would have warned you."

"Oh."

Oh.

So her parents were fanatics, and he'd just decided to play hopscotch in a minefield. Great. At least that explained the weird stains, magazine, and anachronistic technology. And the smell. Now that Spike knew, that acrid smell was unmistakably ectoplasm, and if they were ghost hunters, it was no wonder that smell got stronger the closer he was to the basement where Mrs. Fenton had said the lab was.

How are you gonna worm your way out of this one, Spike? he wondered to himself.

What were his options?

First, he could keep trying to hold a conversation about ghosts with two people who A) knew way way way more about ghosts than he did, B) were way more passionate about ghosts that he was, and C) appeared to be very intense in their opinions on ghosts and would no doubt try to make him feel the same way they did. That sounded awful, but as long as he let them lead the conversation he could probably come out of it without looking like a bad person or a bad partner for their daughter.

Another option was attempting to change the topic, but that would require coming up with a new topic to talk about, and depending on the depths of the Fentons ghost fixation, there was a solid chance they'd find a way to bring the conversation back around to ghosts anyway. If they did that, he'd have to come up with another new topic of conversation, and that loop could continue until the end of the night when he could finally leave. He wasn't sure how fast he would have to cycle through conversation topics, and his mind was already blanking trying to come up with just one.

His final option was to fake some kind of emergency and run, but that would almost certainly lower the Fentons opinion of him, so he would rather put that in his back pocket and use it only as a last resort.

In his silence while Spike considered the best course of action, the Fenton parents had continued talking about the danger ghosts represented for the town's schoolchildren, and how they should really be taking much more thorough precautions than just installing ecto-detector proximity alarms.

First and foremost, Spike's goal for this dinner was to get Jazz's parents to like him. No matter how much he dreaded it, he knew which of the options for conversation would put him in the best standing with them. He only hoped Jazz could forgive him.

"So, you guys are ghost hunters," Spike began. "Have you met a lot of ghosts, then? What would you say the most dangerous ghost you ever fought was?"

Jazz turned to him with betrayal written all over her face. He knew that she hated talking about ghosts, and she obviously hated listening to her parents talk about ghosts even more, but if he wanted to get in good with her family, sacrifices had to be made.

Immediately, Mr and Mrs. Fenton started debating who the most powerful ghost they'd ever fought was. Mrs. Fenton said that it was, without a doubt, some ghost called Pariah Dark, although Mr. Fenton argued that they hadn't so much fought Pariah Dark as held him off. He seemed to be of the opinion that the most dangerous ghost they'd ever fought was Danny Phantom, who had—according to rumors, anyway—been the one who actually beat Pariah Dark.

Beneath the din, Spike leaned over to whisper an apology to his girlfriend.

"I'm sorry, I just really want them to like me, please don't be mad."

Jazz's look of betrayal twisted into a conspiratorial smile. "You sly bastard," she said fondly. "That's actually pretty clever."

"Danny Phantom never pulled the entire city into the Ghost Zone," Mrs. Fenton reminded pointedly.

"Just because he hasn't doesn't mean he couldn't!" Mr. Fenton argued.

That went on for a while until Danny huffed in annoyance and decided to put an end to it.

"Why don't you just tell him about both ghosts?" he suggested.

Spike wished that Danny had specified not to do so simultaneously, because what he got was a double-barrelled lecture on the most dangerous ghosts they'd ever talked. Both Mr. and Mrs. Fenton trying to talk over each other, neither of them pausing to let the other be heard, getting progressively louder and louder, even though Spike had poor audio processing abilities and didn't register a single word they were saying.

Finally, their explanations came to an end, and Spike nodded and tried to look impressed, even though he had absolutely no idea what either of them had said about either ghost.

"Wow," he said, it seemed like a safe response. "Sounds like you guys have had a lot of... uh... intense ghost fights?" he glanced at Jazz, who nodded encouragingly. "I bet there were some easy ones, too, though. Who's the weakest ghost you ever fought.

"Oh, the Box Ghost," both Fenton Parents, and, surprisingly, Danny, said simultaneously.

Spike had been hoping that question would carry the conversation a little longer, but he should have known better. Even he knew who the Box Ghost was, a total joke that didn't present a legitimate threat to anyone.

"Of course, I should have known," he said.

"You kinda should have," Jazz teased.

"Okay, well... how do you... I mean... what do you do with the ghosts, after you fight them?" Spike asked. Maybe that question would keep them talking longer than the last.

"We capture them, of course," Mr. Fenton said, which didn't bode well for Spike's time consuming endeavors.

"Then what?"

"We take them to the lab for study," Mrs. Fenton said.

"How do you do that?" That was it. If Spike could just keep asking follow up questions he could make it to the end of the night.

Mrs. Fenton began to describe her scientific process. It was kind of gross, but a little bit interesting. She finished with, "Unfortunately, I don't get to actually do that very often. Somehow the ghosts we capture end up escaping through the Fenton Portal. We keep increasing and overhauling the security systems in our containment chambers, but there must be some flaw we haven't found yet."

"At least they're escaping to the Ghost Zone and not into town to cause more trouble," Danny pointed out.

"I suppose that's true," Mrs. Fenton agreed. "It could be worse."

Eventually, everyone finished eating, and dinner did end. Mrs. Fenton invited Spike to stay for fudge. He said no, since it was getting very late and he didn't want to miss his curfew, but agreed to take a little box of fudge with him when she pressed. He didn't want to make her think he didn't like her cooking—although when he ate a piece at home later, he was sure that her fudge was way better than her spaghetti had been.

Jazz walked him out so they could say goodbye.

"You played them like a fiddle," Jazz said, beaming with pride. "I think they love you more than me after that dinner." She laughed. "And you were worried you'd mess everything up."

"Oh yeah, I was worried the whole time," he agreed. "But you were right. Everything went fine. You're always right."

"And don't you forget it," she said.

Spike leaned down to give her a quick goodbye kiss, taking her hands into his own.

"Thanks for having me over," he said. "Your parents are good people, even if they are obsessed with ghosts."

"I told you."

"Yeah, yeah," he huffed a quiet laugh of his own. "You always do."

"See you at school tomorrow," she said. "I love you."

"Yeah, I love you, too." Then he let her hands slip out of his and walked down the steps, waving goodbye.

He was not looking forward to returning to his own empty, aloof home, and his own cold, judgemental parents. One more year. Less than a year. Ten months, three weeks, and two days. Then he would be eighteen, and he could leave that awful house and live alone—or with Jazz, if she agreed. He didn't expect her to, but he could hope.

[darthfrodophantom]

[darthfrodophantom]

when ur just an innocent blog on tunglr dot com and u make the mistake of going online on april 3rd

[darthfrodophantom]

Nostalgic Dannyversary post incoming. (I’m sorry, it gets sappy).

I wasn’t one of the lucky few who got to catch the first episode that fateful 4/3/04 day. I didn’t have cable, so I didn’t even know it was a show that existed. I never even saw a commercial.

So summer of 2004, I was visiting my grandparents. I was stuck inside with horrible cramps from a torturous menstrual cycle and couldn’t swim in the backyard with the rest of my family. I flipped idly through the channels looking for something to drown out the squeals of fun from my siblings and cousins and happened upon the Nickelodeon channel.

I had no idea what I was watching, but the animation style caught my eye as something new and I was intrigued by a white haired boy who could fly. I watched him transform and immediately needed to know what was going on. Turns out I’d stumbled into the middle of Bitter Reunions. I had no idea what was happening, but I laughed at the quick and clever writing style and felt even more curious about why this boy had powers.

Another episode came on next (I think it was Attack of the Killer Garage Sale or One of a Kind - the marathon aired them out of order) and I saw the intro for the first time. I bopped along with the beat, cramps quickly forgotten, and saw the intro for the first time and finally had a better idea why this boy could fly, but oh was it only the tip of the iceberg. I watched 3-4 episodes that day and tried to catch as many more as I could until we left.

I actually didn’t think about the show too much after that until we finally got cable in 2005. I immediately remembered this show and tried to find any episodes I could. I watched some as they reran and some as they aired live, but I kept hoping I’d somehow find the first episode. I’d seen Mystery Meat, but I kept feeling like there had to be a first episode where they covered the accident and I just kept missing it. So then I went to the internet, found out there wasn’t a first episode about the accident, and immediately went to fanfiction to find someone’s take on it.

Six months later I published the first chapter of Tortured Truth and a month after that, the first chapter of A Secret Uncovered. The rest, as they say, is history.

So thank you, Danny Phantom, for 20 amazing years. You have played a monumental role in my life. You introduced me to some amazing friends, taught me how to write creatively, encouraged me to get better at writing, inspired me to try my hand at drawing, got me into play by posts with my best friend which helped me get through college, and fostered my creativity more than any other fandom has. You were my gateway into the fandom life, and I’ve loved every minute of it.

Thank you Danny Phantom 💚

(Please share some of your early experiences with the show! I’d love to hear them!)

[darthfrodophantom]

Happy 20th Danniversary!

[darthfrodophantom]

Therapists need therapists too.

Having the amount of empathy and listening skills needed to be a good therapist weighs on you and can cause burnout, transference/countertransference, and compassion fatigue.

So yes, give Jazz some love and for god’s sakes get her a therapist because she deserves one after everything she does to keep the whole Fenton family afloat.

So I was thinking and...

Move aside, Danny, this ain't about you-

My reasoning?

We all know Danny's life is fucked up. We know this. We've acknowledged this. All sorts of shit happens in the show that gets glossed over and we, as a fandom, go in and say, "Yeah, no let's talk about that actually-" But while Jazz may not be a main character, things happen to her too that should be acknowledged as well.

Let's start with some basics: her parentification. While it may not be uncommon for older siblings to take care of their younger ones, that doesn't make it right or better. Jazz is 16 in the show. She is just as much a kid as Danny is, even if she vehemently tries to deny it. She should not be the one responsible for looking after her brother like a parent would.

This also bleeds into the way she has to watch after or hold her parents back. They are grown adults; she should not be the one responsible for making sure they treat her younger brother right, or don't forget things, or act like adults. This is not and never should have been her duty as a child, oldest or not.

Let's move onto more episodic examples. In "Prisoners of Love", she had a bit of a meltdown when she found out she had been wrong. That lends to some control issues and perfectionism that isn't healthy in the slightest and should probably be dealt with before she becomes an adult and realizes that kind of mindset is going to burn her out. Fast.

In "My Brother's Keeper", Spectra intended to murder her in front of the entire school. Obviously the plan doesn't work out, but a murder attempt is a murder attempt and that brings trauma all of its own.

A lesser known example, but Johnny (who she had dated briefly) used her as a meat puppet in "13" so that his girlfriend could escape from the Ghost Zone. If we want to acknowledge that what Kitty did to Paulina was wrong, then we have to acknowledge this too.

In "Doctor's Disorders", Jazz was literally a disembodied head in a jar. I feel like we should talk about that, and the body horror that comes with it. In line with that, Vlad had nanobots injected into her system, as known from "Secret Weapons", and regardless if they're still there or not that weighs on the mind.

In "Reality Trip", Jazz agreed with Freakshow which implies she has some ghost envy of her own? If Tucker's desire to have powers like Danny is messed up, then this ought to be too.

Now this poll isn't to ignore Danny's trauma. But this ain't about him. This time it's about Jazz and the fact that she has problems of her own. I know it's popular to make her out as a mini therapist, but therapists have therapists of their own to handle their stress and emotions. Jazz should be no different, even if you don't headcanon her as a psychologist as an adult.

So, tldr: Jazz's life is fucked up too and it deserves some acknowledgement.

[darthfrodophantom]

Let’s not forget how absolutely PROUD Jack Fenton would be of his successful ghost hunting son. He could never let that a secret.

He would be checking out at the grocery store and see a tabloid with Phantom on it and would yell out “THAT’S MY BOY!!” before he even realized the words left his mouth.

We’ve seen all the angsty reasons why Danny shouldn’t tell his parents his identity now let’s talk about the most obvious reason he shouldn’t tell. Based on everything we know about jack and Maddie there’s no way they’d be able to keep his secret as they would be constantly slipping up. I’m talking about them accidentally calling out hey sweetie and hey Danny boyo as they see phantom flying overhead, them accidentally mixing up the last name Fenton and phantom when talking about their son with company, and them just openly talking about his secret identity while they are so focused on one of their projects to notice there’s someone right by them that can hear what they’re saying.

[darthfrodophantom]

Oh my gosh what an amazing gift!! Thank you so much!!! 💚💚 It’s such a cool take on the post-dissection reveal and the refuge was such a cool twist that I didn’t see coming! I loved it! 🥰

And I’d love to be tagged on those future fics inspired by the other prompts! I’m glad they were such good inspiration points!

This is the first @phandomholidaytruce I've done, and I got @darthfrodophantom! They gave some incredible prompts, with this one being for: "After a reveal goes poorly with his parents, Danny can't hide out with Tucker or Sam because they'd find him. He finds refuge from an unlikely source (surprise me on who that is!)" I hope you like who I chose! (Also there is something else for you in the end notes. Just something else I wanted to say. So. Be aware of that.)

Danny's life could be a lot worse. After all, he was still somewhat alive. Sure, he couldn't leave the house, and his parents were keeping a close eye on him after… what had happened. But it was fine. He was fine. He just needed to sleep it off.

It could be worse. That had been Danny's silent mantra for the past three years now, even if it didn't help much. If nothing else, it was always proved true. After the accident, it had been followed by "At least I'm not dead!" and then they figured out that no, he very much was dead, if not completely. That revelation had come along with the ghost attacks, where the mantra was completed with "At least no one's getting hurt!" Sam promptly got kidnapped by the Lunch Lady. She may have made it out largely unscathed, but that didn't mean it didn't count. Then the saying moved to "at least its only other ghosts I have to worry about." Then "at least its people who can defend themselves." Then "at least most people are supporting me." Then... well. It didn't stay on one concluding phrase for long.

Right now, Danny repeated the new phrase in his head, just like he'd been doing for the better part of a week. "It could be worse. At least they noticed my heart was still beating. At least they stopped cutting before they could stop it. At least they haven't turned me in."

It was true. Danny was sitting at the table in Fentonworks, with a spoon gripped in one hand and a bowl of cereal in front of him. His mother was by the counter, pouring herself a bowl. His father was at the couch behind him. They only looked at him when they thought he wasn't looking, with hands resting a bit too close to holsters to be natural. They talked at him, not to him, and it was always stilted half baked conversations, the things they felt they were supposed to say.

None of them had talked about it. Danny was beginning to doubt that they ever would.

It could have been worse. At least Danny still had a place to stay, even if he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering to the basement stairs every time he could see them, couldn't stop the feeling of his skin crawling along the lines where it had been peeled back and pinned down. He was still here, and he had to stay here, no matter how much his stomach churned just being inside these walls. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go.

He couldn't leave Amity Park. He'd figured that out ages ago, had come to terms with it through many unwilling discussions with Jazz. It was too dangerous for him to leave while the portal still stood, and the portal wasn't going to close. Probably ever, if he understood the science correctly. He wasn't old enough to move out yet, and even if he was, he didn't have the money or time to be able to support him with. Mr. and Mrs. Foley might let him stay for a little while, but they wouldn't be able to accommodate him forever, and while Sam's parents could accommodate him, they would leave him on the streets the moment they thought Sam wasn't looking. Or maybe sooner.

Danny had no where else to go. But that was fine because he didn't need anywhere else to go. He was allowed to stay here, and he was fine with staying here, and-

There was a flash of metal in Maddie's hand. A scalpel, pristine and sharpened, glinting in the lights of the operating table. He couldn't see her face, hidden under a medical mask and the goggles she always wore, a face so alien that he couldn't quite compute that it was his mother slicing him open, his mother peeling his skin back, his mother removing his innards, his mother-

His mother dropped the spoon into her bowl of cereal and turned to face him. She wasn't wearing a mask, or goggles, and the hood of her jumpsuit was pulled down. She was getting breakfast. Danny was eating breakfast.

Or he was. The spoon he'd been holding was crushed in his hand, a mangled mass of unidentifiable metal. Danny shoved it in his pocket before either of his parents could notice.

Standing up was a painful endeavor. You didn't need to be a doctor to know that standing uses a lot of muscles in the stomach, and while Danny's stomach was no longer gaping open, it was being held together by sloppy stitches he'd done himself. It took every ounce of strength to pull himself up without crying, and the shambled half steps he started taking to the stairs brought tears to his eyes.

He mumbled something unintelligible. He knew by now that his parents wouldn't listen to him, but him saying something had them take their hands off of their blasters. Danny could feel their eyes burning into the back of his skull as he shambled to the stairs. They made no sounds of concern, no moves to help him.

A week ago, he would've described climbing the stairs as hell. He could feel his skin puckering as the stitches holding him together tore. He wouldn't call it hell now. Hell was the table in the basement. This wasn't even close.

Danny collapsed into his bed, trying to gulp down air without moving. It didn't work. It never worked. He tried anyway.

The handful of minutes it took for Danny's torso to go from burning, pulsating agony to only just below unbearable seemed to stretch out for hours. He didn't dare move, couldn't even think through the haze of pain clouding his mind. When it cleared enough for him to hear his own thoughts, they carried nothing good.

He wasn't getting any better. It wasn't surprising; he hadn't done anything to get better. He couldn't. He needed food and rest and ectoplasm, and he couldn't get any of that without giving up something of the other. Maybe if Jazz was still home, he'd be able to get her to cover for him. She'd always brought him the supplies he needed, no complaining or questions. At least, not until after he'd felt better.

Jazz wasn't here anymore. She was off in some other state, living her dreams of becoming a psychologists, and Danny was left here, with his parents, who wouldn't let him within 10 feet of the basement door, meaning he didn't have access to ectoplasm like he normally did. They wouldn't bring food to him, or even let him bring food to his room despite never caring before, meaning he needed to go up and down the stairs to eat anything. They would wake him up and insist on him coming down to eat three times a day, meaning he couldn't even lay there in misery. 

Sam and Tucker had noticed his radio silence a few days ago. Sam had snuck in through his bedroom window to check on him. Danny had barely been able to get a word out, hadn't been able to decide whether he wanted to show her what had happened or not, before his parents were in the room.

"Danny's just feeling a little under the weather the past few days," his mom had said with a smile. It felt more like she was baring her teeth.

"I'm sure he'll be right as rain soon enough kiddo!" his dad had said. He wrapped his arms around Sam's shoulders and guided her out of the room. She'd wanted to argue. Danny saw it on her face. Danny also saw how Jack's hand tightened just enough to draw her gaze back to him, just enough that even Sam bit her tongue.

At least they weren't making him go to school. He didn't think he'd make it five steps out the door before collapsing. Maybe that was why they weren't making him; it would raise too many red flags.

Danny was trying very hard to not think of himself as a prisoner. He wasn't a prisoner. His parents were just concerned, and showing it in a... less than ideal way. It was fine. Everything was fine. He wasn't trapped. Even though he couldn't leave, and could barely move, he wasn't trapped. He'd spent his whole life in this house, he couldn't be trapped.

Danny pushed the train of thought to the side, just like he'd done the other dozens of times he'd started to think that. It wasn't any good to dwell on things that weren't real. He needed to focus on doing something to help, which in this case meant getting better. He just needed to sleep.

That was easier said than done. The pain was still terrible, and the incision on his chest meant that he only had one option to try and get comfortable in. It didn't help that he already knew what was awaiting for him when he finally got tired or bored enough to fall asleep. He didn't think it was fair that he had already lived through that once, and his prize was getting to live through it over and over again every time he closed his eyes.

He didn't bother keeping track of how long passed before he slipped into sleep, but he knew instantly when he did. That was odd. Most of the time, he wasn't able to figure out he was dreaming until he was sitting upright, panting and grasping at torn stitches in a mixture of pain and desperation to feel his own, still beating heart. This time however, he knew he was dreaming immediately.

He wasn't on the operating table either, like he had been at the start of all of his other dreams. He wouldn't really describe himself as being anywhere, actually; he was surrounded by nothing but blackness.

Danny pushed himself up with his arms, and the world shifted with him. It was as if he hadn't moved it all, but the world had moved to make it seem like he had, interspersing spots of white that seemed to come out from behind nothing. It made his stomach churn and his head spin, and he brought one free arm to rub at his now aching temples.

"It seems as if I was correct. It is the little hero that needs saving this time." The voice was horribly familiar, and seemed to come from every direction at once. He should've known this was Nocturne's doing; the entire ordeal was covered in signs. 

Danny stood to his feet in a flash whirling around to try and find where exactly this other ghost was, but he was only met with more of the void around him, shifting in that same unfamiliar way. He pushed the nausea down further; he couldn't worry about that now. "What do you want, Nocturne?" He called into the abyss. "I've beaten you once and I will do it again."

"You have," the voice focused on the spot in front of him, and the abyss seemed to gather in front of Danny, coming together to form Nocturne. "That is part of the reason why I'm here."

"Why, you looking for a rematch? Needed to wait until the odds were stacked in your favorite?" Danny spit out. He didn't bother trying to transform, or to fight Nocturne as he was; it wouldn't do him much good. Instead, he focused all his energy on waking up.

Nocturne floated closer, clicking his tongue in disappointment. "You will not wake up until I let you. It's a waste of energy to try."

"I've done it before," Danny pointed out.

"When I was busy with the rest of your town, yes," Nocturne agreed. "I am not spread so thin this time."

Danny knew he was telling the truth. He could feel the power threading through the air, reinforcing the barriers of the dream even as he strained against it. It was comforting, in a weird way. At least now Danny knew that, when he did wake up, he wouldn't be met with a city wide sleep epidemic. Again. It didn't bode well for him right now though. "So you're what, trapping me here?"

"No," Nocturne replied. "Nor am I looking for a fight. I am here to offer you a deal, nothing more. Once I receive my answer, you will be free to go, if you wish."

Danny set his jaw and crossed his arms. "Fine. But if you don't let me out after, I’ll kick your ass here, and then I’ll kick you ass when I wake up too.”

“I suppose that is a fair trade,” Nocturne replied. “You are not safe in your home. You have not felt safe in your home for years.”

“Hey, that’s not-“ Danny protested.

“You cannot lie to me here, child.” Nocturne shut him down immediately. “Even if you can lie to yourself.”

Danny snapped his mouth shut.

“I have come with an option. A way for you to turn back the clock on your... situation and return to the way things were before. Or better, if that is what you'd wish.”

"...how would you do that?" Danny asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I will create it for you. Your town, your friends, your family. Whatever it is you wish, in your own world. You wouldn't even be able to tell the difference."

Danny rolled his eyes and snorted. "Yeah, cause that's not something I've heard before. Lock me in some imperfectly perfect make believe so you can take over the world or whatever, or so I can waste away without even realizing. No thanks."

Nocturne moved closer, the surrounding starscape moving with him. "Your town would be safe from me, and while I will be the first to admit I can do nothing for your body, I'd have hoped that by now you would have realized that you are far more than just the skin you wear. I am promising you more than just a reprieve from your current predicament. I am offering you an eternity with those you love, where you are certain to keep them safe and protected. The real them, tied to the same dream as you, in the same way. That is not the kind of safety you will ever be able to offer on your own. Is that not what you desire?"

Danny hated just how right Nocturne was. He hated how tempting the offer was even more. He'd be lying to himself if he said he hadn't worried about the state of his friends once they'd moved away from Amity, that he hadn't paced his room worried about Jazz when she'd moved away to college, forcing himself to not run to the phone and try to call her again.

He shook his head anyway. "I can't just leave everyone else. I can't just live in a fantasy while who knows who does who knows what to Amity Park. I need to keep it safe, not whatever replica you're promising."

Nocturne floated closer, until he was barely a foot away from Danny, and lowered his mask to look Danny in the eyes. Nocturne's expression did not change. "You are a fascinating creature," he said, before pulling away.

"You're going to let me go now, right?" Danny asked, as Nocturne pulled away. "You said-"

"I am aware, child," Nocturne interrupted. "And I will keep my word. But I have something else to offer you, though this will require something from you in return."

"Why?" Danny asked. "Why do you care so much?"

"As I said, you are a fascinating creature," Nocturne said. Danny didn't like the way he said it. It made him feel like an insect to be studied. 

He decided that thought was better left unsaid. "Well, if you're just going to try and trap me in some other dream, I'm going to pass."

Nocturne pulled away, moving around Danny in a slow circle. "It will be nothing of that sort. You have made your stance on that clear, and I respect your wishes. But my powers can extend to the waking world. I can help you protect your little town far better than you are able to now."

That had Danny's interest, and his suspicion. He narrowed his eyes, rotating to keep Nocturne in his sights. "And how would you do that?"

"I can make the... recent events the dream, in your mind and your parents."

"What, so I won't remember it?" Danny asked. "That's not going to do anyone any good when I have this mess to deal with." Danny gestured to his chest.

"Tell me, child. How does 'that mess,' as you so eloquently put it, feel?"

It took Danny a second to figure out what exactly Nocturne meant. And then it dawned on him; it took him a second to figure out how the wound felt. He'd been hyper aware of it for a week now, constantly in pain, constantly tiptoeing around it. He'd spent every moment, awake and asleep, trying to do whatever he could to make it better. Now, he could barely feel it.

He still could. It still hurt. But it was a dull throb, the kind of pain he'd learned to push aside and ignore with years of practice.

"You will feel like this once you wake up. You will be able to return to your place as protector of your town. The wound will not be healed. You will still need to tend to it. But it will not interfere, and you should heal."

"And... my parents?" Danny asked.

"Their memories of the event, and yours will grow distant. You will all know that it happened, but become difficult to recall."

"Like trying to remember a dream?" Danny asked.

Nocturne tilted his head in affirmative, and raised his hand out towards Danny. "So tell me, little dreamer. Do we have a deal?"

Danny stared down at it. "You said there would be a price," Danny said slowly. "I'm not agreeing to anything until I've heard this price."

"Does it matter?" Nocturne's mask didn't move, just as static as it had been the whole time, but Danny couldn't help but feel like the smile was mocking him now. "If I was to tell you that the price was to serve me for an eternity, after you have no town left to protect, would you say no? If I gave you the ability to keep fighting, is there any price you wouldn't be willing to pay?"

Danny's breath caught in his throat. He wanted to say no. He wanted to deny it. But he couldn't. It was true. Nocturne didn't wait for his answer. Danny couldn't shake the feeling that it was because he already knew. 

"I have no interest in any of that." Nocturne pulled away, and Danny could breathe again. "All I am interested in is another set of hands with a brain attached. My sleepwalkers are helpful, but they cannot do much with my more delicate work."

"And... and you won't make me leave?"

Nocturne tilted his head. "I am more than capable of collecting your side of the bargain while you sleep."

Danny hesitated for only a moment. He knew he couldn't be locked inside as he had been for much longer; he refused to leave the town in Valerie's hands alone. He just couldn't.

Danny tried to shake Nocturne's hand, but when he tried to tighten his grip, he met no resistance. It felt like he had plunged his hand into a jar of jello straight out of the fridge, with nothing underneath it. He tried to pull his hand away, only to find that it was stuck. He watched as the tar continued to move past his wrist, and then up his arm.

He looked up at Nocturne in horror. He was still smiling. Of course he was. "What's happening?"

Nocturne tilted his head. "You truly are a fascinating creature." His voice was distorted, as if Danny was underwater. "Even I cannot keep the nightmares from finding you."

—

Danny awoke gasping for air, sitting up in bed suddenly. Despite his rude awakening, he felt... good. Better than he had in the past week, for certain. He wouldn’t quite describe himself as well rested, but he was certainly less tired that he was before. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table and blinked in surprise. It was late afternoon. He'd slept for six hours. A full six hours of mostly uninterrupted sleep. That was more than Danny could ask on any regular day.

The fact that he was sitting up took a moment to dawn on him, and then hit him all at once. His hand went to his chest. His pajama shirt was damp, though he wasn't sure if it was from blood or sweat. Despite this, he didn't hurt; at least, not as much as he should. There was still a dull throb through his abdomen, like he was pressing on a bruise, but no where near the pain it had been only a few hours previously.

The dream came rushing back to Danny all at once, bringing with it a sense of relief. He hadn't trusted Nocturne at any point in the dream. The fact that he was awake at all was surprising, but the fact that Nocturne had actually withheld his part of the bargain was even more so. Hopefully that meant that Danny could get back to his "normal" half-life quickly.

He reached over and switched on his bedside lamp. The dampness had been a mixture of both sweat and blood, which was better than just blood but still meant he had yet another shirt to burn. He changed quickly, faster than he had since everything had happened, and went downstairs.

Danny could hear the sound of his parents in the lab. He remembered how his heart would race when he would hear that, or even so much as look at the door. Now, he felt... maybe a little nervous, distantly, but nothing like the sheer, gripping panic he'd had to fight off before.

Going down the stairs was harder, but he needed to do it. He needed to prove to himself that Nocturne had followed through on every part of the bargain, not just where Danny was concerned. The metal was cold underneath his feet, a familiar feeling that helped to ground him. He peaked his head around the corner, taking in the lab.

His mother was standing at one of the workbenches, hammering away at a lump of something that Danny couldn't identify. His father sat at one of the desks, squinting at a piece of paper and mumbling to himself. They were working on normal projects, just like they always did. Danny cleared his throat to get their attention.

"Oh, there you are Danny boy!" Jack said, looking up from his papers with a wide smile. "We were beginning to get worried about you! Feeling any better, son?"

"Uh, yea, Dad," Danny said, fumbling over his words.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Maddie said. "If you're hungry, there's some cans of soup in the cupboard, or you can order yourself takeout. You know how. Hopefully, you'll be feeling good enough to go to school tomorrow. Don't want you to fall any further behind, isn't that right young man?" Her tone was playful. Teasing. Something she hadn't done since figuring it out.

Danny stifled his sigh of relief, and shot her a smile, though she hadn't turned around from the table she was working at. "Thanks mom. I hope so too."

He turned around and made his way out of the basement slowly. Clearly, Nocturne had followed through on his deal, just like he said he would.

Let's just hope Danny didn't regret it when he had to do the same.

---

I am now talking directly to darthfrodophantom. Hello, I hope you enjoyed it, when I said you gave some really good prompts, I meant it. Your prompts have inspired me with two other fics that I would like to do at some point down the line, both gray ghost, one of them being a multichapter thing. If you are interested in me tagging you and saying "hey this was inspired by their truce prompts!" I can, if not, they'll be getting written anyway. I just wanted to make you aware of that fact.

[darthfrodophantom]

Oh my gosh I’m so honored to have two fics on this list! 🥹 To have my works alongside some of these other amazing pieces and authors is truly humbling!

Thank you to those who nominated my works!

I’m also excited to see some works on here that I haven’t read yet, and I’m excited to dive into them! 🥰

Ecto-Exodus 2023

As we head into 2024 - here are the fics that escaped from the zone this year that stuck with us.

This year, we had 35 entries and with 25 of them being crossovers. Much thanks to @nutella-icecream @reading-wanderer @emberdew and the anons for submitting some of their favourites.

As this list isn't as large as previous years, feel free to continue to suggest 2023 fics in reblogs and I will add them when I get a chance. And if you run out of reading material - click the 2022 tab OR click here for the 2021 list.

Happy Reading!

[darthfrodophantom]

Family Traditions (We Are a Family...Right?)

Summary: Summary contains AGIT spoilers! Inspired by the Christmas season, Vlad takes his two charges Dan and Dani to select a Christmas tree for their first Christmas together. Dani is thrilled by the outing, Dan...not so much. And Vlad is left to ruminate on his nostalgic memories and the meaning of the word family.

Happy Holiday Truce @northerngrail! I'm your Secret Santa! I really hope you enjoy your gift this year! Thank you for the wonderful prompts! I decided to go with this one for your gift:

Prompt: The Masters family (Vlad, Dan, Dani) doing something incredibly stereotypically "family bonding" ie: fishing, road trip, etc. And suffering through it (happily)

AO3

CW: AGIT Spoilers!

Family Traditions (We Are a Family...Right?)

He didn’t know what drove him to think this idea would go well. Maybe he thought this living arrangement meant more than it actually did. Maybe he finally had some hope that something would change. Or maybe he was just getting soft and senile in his old age. Vlad realized with a sharp jab of annoyance mixed with pain that it was probably the latter. 

He couldn’t really put a name on what living situation he had now with the young Danielle and the redemption-seeking Dan. Parent? No, that felt far too familiar. Warden? In the case of Dan that sometimes felt appropriate. Caretaker? He certainly did watch out for them, but even that seemed a little distant for the paternal relationship he’d started to build. Guardian? That seemed to fit the best as a good mix of responsibility and affection. 

But would that make them a family? He felt loath to ascribe that much affection and companionship towards what they had. He could catch a glimpse of it sometimes, especially from Danielle, but he didn’t feel that quite met the criteria for family. Then again, he didn’t have the best example of that growing up, but when he looked at what the Fentons had…he didn’t see that in his current living situation. 

So if he didn’t see them as a family, then why did he think it wise to embark on something that most would consider a family tradition? He still couldn’t rationalize those competing principles in his mind, just like he still couldn’t explain the pull he felt towards this activity. He could say he got caught up in the infectious holiday spirit surrounding him, or the yearning for a family tradition, but in reality it had been a thought: a simple thought that pushed him to change his entire approach to the month of December. This was the first Christmas he would spend with children under his roof - and he painfully realized it would be the first Christmas he would spend with anyone under his roof since he was a teenager - and he needed to make that special for them. Whether he was their parent, warden, caretaker, or guardian, that meant he bore the responsibility of giving them a Christmas and rolling out all the stops. The decorations. The stockings. The presents. The Christmas meal. The Christmas movies. And that also meant…the Christmas tree.

Wrangling them into the car proved to be a challenge. Dan was a malevolent, violent ghost stuck in a teenager’s body, which proved to be a disastrous combination on the best of days, and Danielle was mischievous and far too inquisitive for her own good. Neither of them responded well to the idea of an unannounced drive to an undisclosed location for an activity. His suggestion was met with suspicion and questions, and even though he managed to convince them to join him in the car, the suspicious and inquisitive questions had not ceased. 

Christmas music crooned out of the stereo to set the mood as Vlad turned off the highway and onto a country road. Sure some people sold suitable trees in the city, but this was less about the tree and more about the experience, and he wanted to find a small local shop off the beaten path. As they pulled into the small dirt parking lot, Dan’s eyes focused on the large cars with cables and trailers and harnesses already equipped. He watched as a family walked out from under a white canopy strung up with warm Christmas lights as they pulled something heavy behind them.

Dan shook his head as he frowned. “No…no wait no. I see what you’re doing here. Are we–”

“Picking out a Christmas tree!” Dani interrupted in sheer joy as she pressed her face against the cold car window to look out at the selection of pine trees that covered the snowy ground. 

“Yes, that is what we are doing,” Vlad confirmed as he out-maneuvered someone to get a close parking space. They didn’t need a closer parking space - all of them were fit and able to walk and carry a tree a long distance - but this was about the principle and the status of managing to find and obtain a closer parking space.

Dan groaned as he slumped into his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. “Why can’t we just get a plastic tree from Target like everyone else? Or better yet, none at all.”

“Because that’s no fun,” Dani pouted as she turned around in her seat to face her…sibling? Herself? Her future? Vlad wasn’t quite sure how to quantify and label their relationship either. “This is so much better! I’ve seen this on TV. You run around and look at all the trees and pick the best one. Don’t you want to do that?”

“No,” Dan quickly retorted.

“Really?” Dani pressed. 

“I would rather be in the thermos.”

“We can arrange that,” Dani muttered under her breath as she turned to look back out the window.

Vlad took a moment to build his patience (a patience he’d been working incredibly hard to develop after finding himself a guardian) before he turned around to look in the back seat. “No one is being sucked into a thermos. Now we are going to look at some Christmas trees. Maybe we don’t need to look at all of the trees,” he conceded. Dani opened her mouth to protest but Vlad held a hand up. “We can find a perfectly good tree without looking at all of them. But we are going to look, understand?” 

Dan and Vlad locked eyes for what felt like minutes to Vlad, but he knew in reality it only lasted a few moments. He’d engaged in his fair share of these battles of wills with the malevolent ghost before (and he’d lost his fair share as well), but he had a purpose this time and the genuine hope this would do them all some good, and that pushed him to stand his ground. 

Finally Dan huffed out an annoyed breath and stepped out of the car. Vlad slumped in his seat in relief. He really didn’t want this argument to escalate further, but with Dan he never knew. He genuinely felt that the ghost was trying to make good on his second chance, especially since they both knew Clockwork kept his eye on them, but sometimes he acted out in anger and it turned violent. Vlad could take the abuse until he could calm him down, but he preferred not to cause a panic in public around so many families.

Dani seemed to sense their victory. The tension bled out of her and a smile returned to her face as she jumped eagerly out of the car. He had originally been wary of bringing Danielle into the house after he took charge of Dan’s rehabilitation, but she had actually proven to be a stabilizing force in the house. Maybe she served as a gentle reminder of Dan’s prior innocence, Vlad couldn’t quite say, but in the absence of Jazmine (who Dan surprisingly listened to), Danielle could hold quite a bit of sway. They still argued, but she could hold her own and put him in his place when needed. Sometimes they even teamed up, and while Vlad appreciated seeing them working together, that never bode well for him.

He followed his two charges out of the car and led them towards the first row of trees as the snow crunched underfoot. What a stereotypical sight they must make: the single parent leading a sullen teenager and a wide-eyed younger child to pick out a Christmas tree. It felt reminiscent of those horrible Hallmark channel movies that he absolutely did not hate-watch in secret, but how wrong anyone would be to think that their arrangement was anything close to that stereotypical display. 

“Don’t even look at the prices,” he instructed as they reached their first row of trees. Wafts of fresh pine scent assaulted them, and Vlad took a moment to breathe deep of the nostalgic smell. He couldn’t wait to have it spread through the living room once they installed the tree. “Just pick out a tree you both like.”

Dani clapped her hands happily and ran off down the row to look at trees further in, but stopped short as soon as Dan spoke up and pointed ominously at the very first tree. “This one.”

Dani stopped and turned around as she stomped her foot. “Ugh, you dummy! You didn’t even look at the rest of them!” Vlad raised an eyebrow because Danielle may very well be the only being in both the realm of the living and the realm of the dead who could get away with calling Dan a dummy.

“I didn’t need to. I like this one,” he said firmly.

Dani opened her mouth to argue again, but Vlad spoke first. “And why do you like this one?” Maybe he had a genuine reason for liking this tree, but he doubted it.

“Because it’s the first one.”

Both Vlad and Dani groaned. “We’ll keep your preference in mind, but we’ll keep looking at other trees,” Vlad decided. He didn’t want to dismiss Dan’s preference if he truly felt a connection to that tree, but he had a feeling the only positive quality that three possessed was being the first of the lot.

Dan retreated further into his sulk as he bowed his head lower, but he trudged after them as Dani ran through the trees. They had their work cut out for them, because all the trees were lovely. The recent snow dusted the branches with white powder and it looked like a perfect winter wonderland; he would be happy taking any of them home. Thankfully Dani seemed to have a vision and she inspected trees that caught her eye with an expert, critical gaze.

“What about this one?” Vlad suggested as he pointed at a well-shaped tree that Dani walked right past.

She turned to give it a second look as she placed a gloved hand to her chin, but she shook her head. “Nope. It’s too…piney.”

“Too…piney?” Vlad asked in confirmation.

“What the hell does that mean?” Dan asked as he raised an eyebrow.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s more of a feeling. It’s just…too much pine.” And as if that statement cleared everything up, she dashed off to another tree.

“She’s drawing this out,” Dan complained.

Vlad sighed. “We’ve barely been here five minutes; this is hardly being drawn out.”

“There was nothing wrong with that tree,” Dan pointed out. “She shot it down because she doesn’t want to be done.”

“And what’s the harm in that?” Vlad probed. “Let her look at some of the trees, get a feel for what’s out there, and then we can press her into choosing one.”

Dan rolled his eyes and trudged after them as he scuffed his boots stubbornly through the snow. Occasionally he’d kick the trunk of a tree just to watch the snow shake and fall from the branches, but mostly he sulked behind them while Dani debated the features of different trees and the quality of their pine needles.

“Oh stop looking like you’re being tortured,” Vlad finally spoke up. “This is far from the worst thing you’ve ever had to endure.”

“Don’t you remember I hate Christmas?” Dan pointed out.

“Part of you may,” Vlad conceded. He remembered hearing Jack complain incessantly about how young Daniel could not get into the spirit of Christmas. He’d planned to use that at some point to his advantage in recruiting the young Daniel, but now…well he had enough versions of the boy that he didn’t need to add another under his roof. “But the other part of you secretly loves Christmas. I know because that part is me. So maybe you should listen to that other part.”

“I usually lean towards hatred,” Dan quipped sullenly.

Dani poked her head out from behind a nearby Christmas tree, her hat covered in snow. “Well, then maybe you shouldn’t.” She gave Dan a pointed look and a shrug before she disappeared back behind the foliage.

Vlad had to hide a chuckle behind a gloved hand at how simple the suggestion seemed. Danielle had a way of cutting through the attitude to find the cheery solution. He didn’t know where that quality came from, because while Daniel could be overly hopeful at times, he wouldn’t necessarily describe the boy as cheery. She hadn’t had a cheerful existence so far (he meant to change that) so he couldn’t say that positive outlook came from her prior experiences. Maybe she forced herself to adopt that perspective specifically to deal with her experiences? He’d have to ponder that a bit more. But whatever the explanation for her optimistic demeanor, he appreciated her view on the world and tried to adopt a little of it himself now and then.

Dan also seemed intrigued by her suggestion because he grew quiet and pensive. It wouldn’t last long, it never did, but maybe he took some of what she said to heart.

Suddenly a tree caught Vlad’s eye and he stopped in front of it. A wide base with a tapered point, taller than him, no patchy spots - it resembled the quintessential tree from any holiday catalog. “Danielle, what about this one?” Vlad suggested as he inspected the branches. He gave them a good shake and they seemed sturdy and capable of holding even his heaviest Packers ornaments.

Dani doubled back and gave the tree some serious consideration. She walked around it a couple times and even got down onto her knees to look up under the tree at its bones. She scooted out from under the branches and shook her head. “No, that’s not our tree.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dan snapped. “It’s perfect!”

“That’s the problem,” Dani stated as she lifted up one of the branches. “It’s too perfect. You want the tree to have some character.”

“I can’t believe this,” Dan groaned as he looked up at the sky like it held some kind of salvation.

“Well, then we’ll keep looking,” Vlad agreed, though it pained him to walk away from this picture-perfect tree.

“I still don’t understand why we’re doing this,” Dan spoke up.

Vlad took a moment to close his eyes and collect his patience before he spoke up again. “Because we need a Christmas tree,” he tried to say through a controlled, even tone.

“Okay, but why are we doing this?” Dan asked with added emphasis on his real question. ”Why not just send Skulker to grab one? You send him on all your other mundane errands.”

“Because he wouldn’t grab the right one. And he wouldn’t take the care needed to transport it back. And he’s on a date.” There, three practical reasons that should hopefully quell Dan’s query and avoided the true emotional reasons for the trip.

Dan stopped abruptly as he blinked a couple times. “He’s what?”

Vlad turned around and quickly noticed the shocked wide eyes and gaping mouth, and he took the slightest bit of delight that he could catch the ghost off guard like that. He actually greatly resembled Daniel in that moment in more than just appearance. He didn’t often see pieces of the Daniel he knew in Dan - he must have torn it all out when he rid himself of his emotions - but occasionally they would bleed through. It was refreshing to see. “Well, he didn’t call it a date. He’s off destroying the world with Technus. But it’s a date. We all know it’s a date.”

Dan shook his head minutely as a look of revulsion colored his shocked expression. “I don’t want to hear that.”

“What, do you have a problem with love?” Dani asked as she emerged from behind them. She had clearly been crawling around under trees because pine needles stuck out of her hat and jacket.

“No - I mean yes,” he countered quickly. “Yes. I hate love.”

“Riiiight,” Dani said as she rolled her eyes. She gave a slight wink to Vlad who hid a chuckle behind his glove. “Hey, shouldn’t we be worried about the ‘destroying the world’ part?”

Vlad waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, I wouldn’t be too worried. It’s Skulker and Technus after all: hardly a pair to be concerned about. Besides, I’m sure Daniel will find a way to ruin their fun.”

“First good thing that brat’s done,” Dan quipped.

Dani put her hands on her waist as she leaned in close to Dan’s face. “Why are you so against them dating?” she asked as she squinted to study his face.

He took a step back and lightly shoved her out of his space. “Because I’ve seen them in the future. Look, can we talk about anything else? Like what about this tree?” he asked as he tapped the tree next to them.

Vlad smiled that Dan seemed to be getting into the spirit enough that talking about a tree was an acceptable alternative. It also seemed to work because it completely distracted Dani who rushed over to examine the tree.

“Nah. This one sheds too many needles,” she decided as she pulled a handful of needles off.

“You can’t–every tree will lose its needles if you pull on them like that!” Dan argued in exasperation.

“Yeah, but this one lost more,” she countered. “So there. Not a good tree.” She scampered off before Dan could get another argument in.

He clenched a fist and breathed out a long, slow breath. Vlad hiked an eyebrow in interest because it looked like some of those anger management techniques were actually working. He’d have to thank Jazmine later. “She’s being unreasonable.”

“She’s just having fun,” Vlad sighed. “I promise, I’ll make her select one soon enough, just bear with her.”

“Oh I’m bearing with her alright,” Dan muttered through gritted teeth as he watched Dani dismiss another perfectly good tree. 

While Dan might be suffering watching her traipse through the rows of pine trees, Vlad actually found the whole event quite enjoyable. The whimsy of watching Danielle play around amongst the trees and inspect each one filled him with a paternal glow. Watching a Christmas tradition unfold through the eyes of a child filled him with a happiness he couldn’t really explain and renewed his Christmas spirit more than any other activity could. Now if only his other charge would find the tender happiness of the moment with them, then it could all be perfect. Alas, that seemed to be too much to ask for.

“If none of these trees are right, then why can’t we just get a plastic one? It would save us all a lot of time,” Dan pointed out.

“The plastic ones just don’t have the same feel to them,” Vlad explained as he stretched the limits of his very limited patience to stay civil. How he longed to turn around and brandish the ‘because I said so’ that all guardians use at some point, but he knew that would only end in conflict and would force Dan to pull away even further. But god would it be easier. “A real tree has a scent and a presence that the fake ones don’t have. And the experience of selecting a tree is far more thrilling.”

“I can’t say I agree with the ‘thrilling’ part of that statement,” Dan grumbled.

“Because you’re not letting yourself. But selecting a tree for Christmas…why it’s one of the few happy memories I have of Christmases past. My parents were usually too busy for their trophy child, but Christmas seemed to be the time when they remembered why they had a child in the first place. Every Christmas we would pick out a tree from some small lot like this one here. Mother would watch and smile as I picked out a tree. I could actually hold my father’s attention for a time. We had no distractions or anything else demanding their attention. It was us as a family picking out a Christmas tree.”

A soft smile settled on Vlad’s face as he thought of those happy, nostalgic memories. He didn’t have many happy memories of his childhood as they were mostly filled with loneliness and boredom, but the few he had of Christmas he held very dear to his heart. And being back amongst the trees, with the snow and the pine and the excited squeals of children pointing to trees brought him right back to the happiest of his memories.

Dani stopped her inspection of a tree’s branches, and when she turned to look at him, Vlad could see the sympathy creasing her slightly teary eyes. He wasn’t really trying to get that reaction from her, but he wanted to share how much the nostalgia of this trip meant to him. She reached a comforting hand out towards him, but stopped when Dan’s harsh voice cut through the silence left by Vlad’s story.

“You forget old man that I have those same memories too,” Dan growled with a slight edge to his voice. While Vlad clearly drew warm feelings from these memories, Dan’s reaction gave him the distinct impression that he was not as pleased to be reliving those old memories. “I don’t need the reminder. So I ask again why are we doing this? And I want a real answer this time.”

Vlad opened his mouth with a quick businessman answer full of bluster and smoke and mirrors, but faltered when he realized that this wasn’t a business meeting. This wasn’t some pitch that he needed to sell to a stranger whose feelings and opinions didn’t matter. This wasn’t some cut and dry business proposal that most people would forget about two days later. No, this was his ward and he owed him more than some superficial response. He deserved to hear the real reason, even if Vlad still didn’t know what that real reason could be. How was he supposed to explain to the ghost who tore out his own feelings a decade ago that he did it because he yearned to give his wards a warm memory to hold on to in the cold and lonely months that seemed to come for everyone in their later years, like he had of his own Christmas traditions. He couldn’t rationalize it or explain it in a logical way that would make sense to him, because all he had were feelings and a hope, and he could hardly find the words to explain that to himself, let alone to the other ghost.

Dani, however, seemed to have no problems putting that feeling into words. She stepped in between them and looked at them both with that infectious smile of hers. “Because it’s what family does.”

A silence fell about them as the word ‘family’ rang in their ears. Dan stared down at the snow-covered ground and refused to meet either of their eyes. He slid his foot in the snow just to make some kind of noise to fill the awkward silence. Vlad also shifted uncomfortably as he grabbed his other arm and ran his hand along his sleeve as he lost himself in thought.

Family. So Danielle somehow believed they were a family? Why was he so shocked to hear that? He’d thought it earlier that night and even multiple times before that as he planned this out. This was the sort of activity a family did together. He wanted to share this with them because he saw them as family. It all made sense in his head, and yet for some reason the word never felt right when he rolled it around in his head. He always felt it wasn’t quite right for what a family should be, but maybe that had been his problem. For Danielle to say it so plainly…well it made it all the more plain to him too. Maybe it wasn’t the family everyone else had, but it was the family the three of them got, and didn’t that make the word all the more meaningful? The fact that three outcasts who never really belonged to anyone had found each other (sometimes in very strange circumstances) and managed to make it work meant something to him, to Danielle, and hopefully to Dan based on his reaction.

Dani must have realized she said something poignant because she let the other two sit in their thoughts for a long, awkward moment before her eyes grew wide. She pointed into the distance as a huge grin spread across her face. “That’s it!” she cried out before she shot off down the row to the tree that caught her eye.

Dan glanced up from the ground and took a step forward to follow after her, but Vlad held a hand out to gently stop him. He knew Dan didn’t like being touched and he was putting his own safety in danger by doing so, but he had a feeling he would allow it this time. “Wait. You want to know why I’m doing this?” he asked, which turned Dan’s warning glare into a look of curiosity. “I’m doing it for her.” 

Vlad gestured towards Dani who jumped about her newly selected tree with excited hands clasped together. “Maybe you don’t care anymore, or maybe even can’t care anymore, and that’s fine. Maybe you don’t think we’re a family, and that’s fine too. But she does. And she has known very few Christmases since she…well since I brought her into this life. I wasn’t ready to make them good Christmases before…but I am now. And I want her to have a good memory of this, like we did.”

He gave Dan one last little nod before he met up with Dani at her chosen tree. Dan fell silent and stayed behind, but Vlad didn’t mind. Giving him a chance to think and ponder those thoughts seemed like it would be helpful in the long run. “Well now, let’s see this tree.” Like many of the others they’d pointed out, the tree had a good wide and full silhouette and was tall enough to fit the ceiling of its destined room. He nodded his head in approval as he circled the tree and studied it from all angles, but his inspection unfortunately uncovered a gap in the tree. And not just a gap, but it appeared all the branches below that gap seemed to be drooping, like something heavy had pulled them down. He grabbed those branches and tried to move them up to see if they were broken, but the branches still remained firm. So they were attached securely to the tree but had just been shaped improperly.

Vlad sighed as he released the branch and dusted his hands off on his jacket. “I’m sorry to tell you this Danielle, but your tree has some drooping branches on this side.” She would be crushed to hear the tree that captured her heart had such a noticeable imperfection.

“I know,” she said simply. “That’s why it’s perfect.”

“...I’m not following,” Vlad admitted. She’d dismissed so many other trees for the tiniest of details (some of which she made up) so how could she so easily ignore this one?

“Because it’s not made perfect. It’s not the perfect example of a tree, and maybe it’s not exactly what you expect or want when you think about a tree, but it’s still good. It’ll still make a good tree,” she pointed out as she held one of the branches and ran her gloved fingers over the pine needles. “And you can love the tree not just in spite of its flaws, but because of its flaws.”

Vlad quickly realized this had become far larger than just picking out a tree. Somehow she had turned this into a metaphor for herself. She wanted a tree that had its flaws just as she had, and knowing that tree could still be chosen and loved and desired was important to her. He realized he had caused that insecurity too. By chasing after a “better” clone, a clone more like Daniel, he had dismissed his other creations as failures without caring about how that made them feel. He had a lot to atone for, more than what he could do with a Christmas tradition, but he’d start that atonement by showing her that yes, she could still be chosen and loved because of who she was.

“Well, then it sounds like it’s the perfect tree for us,” Vlad agreed with a smile as he placed a hand on her shoulder. A slightly broken tree for the slightly broken family. It felt right.

Dani squealed in excitement and jumped up and down in place. “Yay! I can’t wait to put all kinds of garland and ornaments and lights and - ooh tinsel! We can put tinsel on it too!”

Vlad chuckled as he shook his head slightly. Tinsel sounded like a horribly messy thing, but if tinsel brought her some holiday cheer and joy, then he’d let her throw tinsel all over that tree. “Whatever you’d like. Now, let’s take this tree number to the–”

“Oh, sorry pal,” a voice spoke up from behind them. Vlad turned to see a middle-aged couple walk over to them. The bearded man gestured towards the tree. “We already paid for that one.”

“What?” Dani asked as she turned her wide, sad eyes onto Vlad, as if pleading for a different answer.

“For this tree?” Vlad asked in confirmation as he placed his hands on the branches of the tree.

“Yup, that exact tree. Number 251. Best bang for its buck on the whole lot. Managed to get a discount on account of the defect,” he crowed proudly.

“But…but…” Dani stammered as she looked back at her prized tree. “But I spent so long looking for this one…”

Vlad felt a frustration rise up within him, but he tamped it down as he put on his best businessman face. He didn’t need to let his temper get out of control here. He had to remind himself that this couple didn’t understand or know how much this tree meant to her, but surely they could be persuaded. And if the joy of a child couldn’t sway them, then he was sure money could.

“Any way I could persuade you to pick a different tree?” he cajoled as he took a step closer. “Pay the cost of the difference to another tree perhaps? My dau–young Danielle here, she really has her heart set on this tree.”

“It’s perfect,” she pouted as she held onto one of its branches like a young child held the hand of a beloved stuffed animal.

The couple looked between each other for a moment, but when he met Vlad’s gaze again he shook his head. “Sorry, but we worked hard for the deal we got for this tree, and as a point of pride we’d like to take it home.”

“Extra money then,” Vlad pressed. “The difference in price for another tree plus an extra hundred to spend on decorations or whatever you’d like.”

The man shook his head again. “Sorry pal, but we’d like this tree, and we did find it first.”

Vlad clenched a fist as his ectoplasm boiled in rage. Really they were just being unreasonable. The tree, while perfect for them, could not possibly be worth this much to the other couple. It seemed like the more he argued for it, the more value they found in their initial purchase. He normally believed everyone had a tipping point, but he feared that these individuals were too stubborn for their own good. Perhaps he could arrange a little…situation on the road, where the tree mysteriously fell through their car on the way home. He’d tried to handle this nicely, but he wasn’t above some ghostly trickery to get that tree. Yes, that could work. He would just need a duplicate to follow them and then–

“He made you a reasonable offer,” Dan growled out from behind them. Vlad turned to see Dan practically vibrating in his anger, like his skin could barely hold the rage building up inside him. His clenched fists shook from the effort it took to keep them at his side.

“Now Dan, we don’t need to–” Vlad tried to intervene, but Dan cut him short with a steely glare.

“I’m not talking to you, old man. I’m talking to these two,” he snarled as he focused his attention on the pig-headed couple as he took slow, controlled steps towards them, like a careful predator stalking his prey. “He made you a reasonable offer and you said no because of what? Your pride? So you can have a trophy and congratulate yourselves on how you got such a good deal at the expense of the dreams of a child? You’re pathetic.”

The man bristled and stepped in front of his wife. “We saw it first. We already paid for it. That means it’s ours.”

“Oh no it isn’t. No, this tree is ours now. You want to take this tree from her?” he asked slowly as he gestured towards Dani. “On her first real Christmas? Her first Christmas with her family? No…no you’re not going anywhere near this tree. I’ll make sure of that,” he promised as a sinister red light flared in his eyes.

“Brad,” his wife squeaked up from the back, but he shook his head and took a brave (and foolish) step forward. He took a moment to size the teenager up with his dark jacket and thick black boots. Vlad realized that the man probably thought he had this “teenage punk” all figured out - oh how wrong he would be.

“You think some teenager with a mouth will stop me?” Brad asked as he puffed up his chest with fake confidence. “I’ll call the cops and shut down your tough guy act.”

“The cops won’t save you from what I have in store,” Dan threatened as his eyes glowed a uniform red. A white ring of light formed around his waist, and as it split apart it revealed the massive, muscled form of Dan Phantom. Brad took a terrified step back on shaking legs as Dan advanced on him, towering over him. He grabbed the man’s shirt in his fist and easily suspended him in the air. The man grasped at the hand around his shirt and kicked his legs as he begged for mercy, but it only made Dan’s malicious smile grow wider. 

He flew the pleading man up into the air, higher and higher before he simply released his hold on the man and dropped him. He screamed as he plummeted quickly to the earth, but Dan swooped down to grab him again. He held him in the air and grinned at his screams for mercy. “If you think that was bad, you should see what else I have in store for you,” Dan threatened as he held up a fist wreathed with green ectoplasmic flame.

“Oh butter biscuits, we’d been doing so well for a public outing,” Vlad sighed from down on the ground. As much as he felt great pleasure (and maybe pride?) upon hearing the unreasonable man squeal in terror and fright, he didn’t actually want the trouble of having Dan hurt the man. As much as he wished for the man to suffer pain for his stubborn attitude and refusal to help secure Dani’s dream tree, as a guardian he couldn’t actually let Dan hurt the man.

“Are you going to stop him?” Dani asked with a slight tremble in her voice. She must still remember the last time he had to stop Dan and took quite a beating in the process.

“Eventually,” Vlad sighed as he kept his eyes focused closely on Dan. “If he does anything that’s actually harmful I will of course rush in.” For now though, it seemed like Dan found satisfaction enough in terrifying the man, and judging by Brad’s high pitched squeals of “You can have the tree! You can have the tree!” he had a feeling the tactic worked.

“But first, let us rescue that tree, hmm?” Vlad suggested as he smiled down at his young charge.

Dani’s smile lit up her face as she reached over to give Vlad a hug from the side. He stiffened slightly in surprise only because he didn’t expect such a physically affectionate reaction, but it melted his heart all the same in a way he’d never felt before. He placed a hand on her back and gave it a comforting pat.

He looked back over at Dan who had moved on to threatening the man by slowly sinking him intangibly into the ground and he noticed the gleeful yet sinister smile on his face. Dan reacted so strongly to the potential for Danielle’s dream to be dashed, and he had even used the word family in his threats. He admitted they were a family. 

Somehow, in their own strange way, this trip had brought them closer as a unit and…yes as a family. This off-the-cuff idea that he stitched together with a feeling and a hope had actually proven to be a happy outing that he knew generated some formative memories for all involved. Maybe he had done it. Maybe he had created a new Christmas tradition for all of them. For his family. 

Their own family tradition.

Notes: I just wanted to make a note that I don't actually have anything against plastic trees. I myself have 3 plastic trees and have never had a live tree (I'm too paranoid about the fire risks). So that was all Vlad. But I do have a romanticized idea of what selecting a live tree would be like!

Also @northerngrail I hope you noticed the little nod to one of your other prompts in there!

This is also a first for me on a lot of levels. First time including Dani in a story. First time writing from Vlad's POV. First time writing anything post-AGIT. So hopefully I did it all justice!

I hope you enjoyed your gif!

[darthfrodophantom]

The Insomniac's Diner

Happy Truce @half-deadmagicperson! I've been working on this for a little bit - honestly my ideas started to get so big that I might even make it longer. Just wanted to give you this chapter and wishing you the best! Hope you like it.

The prompt I chose was: Mr. Lancer discovers Danny’s identity in the most random way.

When battling insomnia, the last thing he expected was to be sitting at his favourite grungy diner on the outskirts of Amity, drinking what he presumed was coffee.

William Lancer sighed, clicking his pen absently as he reread his manuscript for the third time that night. Green eyes swept the page, hoping for a spark of inspiration to send his whirling mind into a buzz, spilling the story onto the page. He took another sip, scrunching his nose in disgust at the burnt taste.

“Fresh Cup there Lance?”

He choked, coughing into the cup in surprise. The diner owner stood over him, a smirk across her round face as she waited for an answer. “No, probably for the best Gloria. It’s a school night after all.”

Gloria tutted, settling in across the man in his booth. “This is the third night this week dearie – anything the matter?”

Lancer sighed again. “Not sure – you know I’ve been dealing with this for years.”

“Well, yes, but it seems like it might be a little more regular now,” Gloria replied, humming slightly. “In all the years I’ve seen you William, this ranks top three. Is it the book again? The teens at the school? Don’t tell me it’s the g-“

“Shh!”

Gloria and Lancer turned to the wide-eyed cook behind the counter. “Don’t jinx it Gloria. He might show up again?”

Curiosity bubbled through Lancer. “He?” He queried.

Gloria shrugged. “It’s been a week, I doubt he’ll show up again. Besides, all he does is show the card anyway.”

Lancer frowned. “The card?”

Gloria pointed to the wall of frayed photos under a large sign labelled Friends of Dale. “The All-You-Can-Eat one. It’s the card where that person and anyone in their family can eat for free after completing the Dale’s challenge in one sitting.”

 “The one that’s everything on the menu topped with a fudge sundae?”

“That’s the one! It’s been 6 years since anyone even tried.” Gloria fidgeted with the menu on the table. ‘Anyway, this kid keeps showing up here at random hours of the morning and asks for the same thing: Three pancakes topped with whipped cream and a coffee with an expresso shot and 7 sugars.”

Lancer gagged. “7 sugars? At that point why drink coffee?”

“You’re missing the point Lance,” Gloria tapped the menu card, attempting to gain his attention. “This kid, he’s like…. I don’t know. But he’s high school aged.”

Lancer bristled. “One of my students?”

Gloria shook her head. “Don’t think so – unless you have a student with white hair who can fly.”

The pen dropped from Lancer’s hand as the man’s jaw dropped. “What?”

Gloria smiled mischievously. “You heard me.”

Lancer grabbed his pen, clicked it a few times then set it on the table. “How long does he stay?”

Gloria stood up, smoothing out the front of her uniform while she eyed the rest of the diner. “Depends on the day. Often, I hear him muttering about a curfew. If our parents made our curfew after 2am on a school night I’d question their sanity.” She frowned, nodding her head to the left. “Gotta jet. But you’re in for a treat.”

Puzzled, Lancer traced Gloria’s steps across the checkered floor.

“The usual?” Gloria asked warmly as she approached the booth furthest from the door.  

“Yeah – and if you have ice and a first aid kit, I’d appreciate it.”

Lancer’s blood ran cold as Phantom’s voice softly echoed through the diner. He peered subtly over his booth, barely making out the gray hoodie with a tuft of snow white hair poking out of it. Vaguely, he heard Gloria tell him she couldn’t fork over the first aid kit but took his order down. She walked back towards the counter, locking eyes with the teacher and mouthed what suspiciously looked like Told you in his direction.

Lancer stared back at his manuscript, mind reeling at this new development. Phantom here. How long? Have they every been here at the same time? Why?

“You look confused.”

Startled, Lancer jumped out of his seat, spilling coffee over the first page as the young ghost materialized across from him.

Danny Phantom winced, frowning at the mess. “Shoot, sorry.” The boy grabbed papers and suddenly the coffee fell through the table and onto the floor. Once the table was solid again, he picked up the manuscript, made them into a neat pile and handed them back to the man. “I should know better.”

Lancer stood, gaping at the boy now joining him at the booth. “It’s… alright…” He sat back down gingerly, eyeing him warily. The gray hoodie, he realized, was from an old spirit wear campaign from Casper High that was discontinued in the 80s; Lancer swore he saw them in a stock room in the basement a couple weeks back. Phantom’s gloved hands were in his sleeves, the left pressed down on his right. Green eyes stared back, confusion and a bit of concern shining back at him. “Long night?”

The spell was broken; the teen groaned loudly, shrinking into his seat. “It always is. Seriously, I thought I’d never get away from Technus’ babble. He’s almost as bad as T-a friend of mine.” Gloria came over, giving the boy his food, a bowl of ice and coffee and left the pair with a hint of smile. “What about you? Didn’t think teachers stayed up until 2am on a school night.”

 Lancer laughed. “Try being a teacher in America. Trust me, I’m not up because I want to.” He watched the boy take a piece of ice, wrapped it in a napkin before pressing down on his arm. Ignoring the action and the wince that followed, Lancer continued. “I’ve struggled with insomnia over the last 10 years, sometimes I can get through it, sometimes… I embrace it.”

“Some would say neglecting sleep is bad for you,” the boy quipped.

“Some haven’t had the nights I’ve had,” he retorted.

Phantom hummed, taking a bite out of the first pancake with his left hand. “Not like I can’t relate,” he muttered. The ghost’s eyes flickered to the stack of papers. “What’s that?”

A soft smile graced his lips. “Just a little bit of writing.”

Phantom hummed again, this time bringing his head to his hand thoughtfully. “Like a book?”

“Exactly that. I figured if I couldn’t sleep, I’d at least work on it a bit.”

“Did it help?”

Lancer laughed sardonically. “Nope.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “And I have to cover at least one extra period tomorrow. Any chance your escapades destroyed part of the school tonight?”

The boy flushed green. “Hey! I don’t intentionally destroy buildings! I can’t pick where I’m thrown!”

Lancer chuckled. “I was joking.” The pair sat in silence, Phantom continuing his meal while Lancer drank the rest of his burnt coffee. Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him. “How long have you been coming here?”

Phantom shrugged. “Apparently this place has a bunch of …. What did Frostbite call them…. Essentially faultlines,” He made a face. “Not quite that. Anyway, a bunch of these faultlines the run under this diner that deter ghosts from coming here. It’s like a ghost truce space – some of our powers don’t work. We’re hardwired to avoid it.”

Lancer’s face twitched. “So… like it’s haunted.”

Phantom smiled mischievously. “You get it.” He stretched, taking a sip of coffee before settling in again. “Anyway, found that out a couple months back and remembered that I had the card so I’ve been coming here when I need to fuel up.”

Lancer nodded, making a mental note to ask about it later. One never got this close to the ghost hero without a ghost fight, let alone know a bit about him. His curiosity was peaked, brimming with wanting to learn everything he could about the visitor. All the questions suddenly left him as he saw Phantom add more sugar to his coffee. “Eventually, that’ll stop being coffee.”

Phantom chuckled. “Good. It’s gross – I only use it for the caffeine anyway. I still have at least another hour to go before I can actually go home.”

Lancer glanced at his watch; 2:30am. “I don’t envy you,” he said softly.

The boy’s eyebrow quirked upward. “Who would?” he asked honestly.

Lancer frowned at the response but before he was able to think hard about it, a new bulletin flashed across the TV, completely stealing the boy’s attention to the conversation at hand.

“Shoot,” he said with a frown. He downed the coffee in one go and floated into the air. “Gotta run – maybe I’ll see you around sometime Mr. Lancer.” He flew up through the ceiling and then the diner was silent again.

Lancer barely managed to wave, frowning at the bizarre conversation.

“Harmless right?”

Lancer jumped out of his skin as Gloria snuck up behind him. “Hell House Gloria, anyone ever suggest you might be a ghost?”

Gloria chuckled, giving him the bill. “You know you love it.” She started to clean the table, frowning slightly. “Huh, poor thing must have been in a rush.”

“Seemed so – why?”

Gloria flashed the membership card his way. “He left this behind. I’ll just keep it until he shows up next.”

Lancer grew pale. “Gloria – are you sure that’s his card?”

Gloria’s eyes sparkled. “Yes – why?”

“Because I recognize that name,” he said softly.

Gloria smiled in understanding. “You teach those kids right? Little one should be high school bound by now.”

He nodded.

“Well it’s his card – no doubt about it. Not stolen either, I did the test and all. It’s him.” She shrugged, turning her back as she pocketed the evidence. “Don’t think too hard about it – it’ll keep you up at night.”

Lancer sat frozen, his curiosity wrapping around such an absurd theory that he couldn’t shake. There was no way. No possible way this could be true and yet –

The card said Fenton.

[darthfrodophantom]

My family put me in charge of decorating gingerbread cookies. I’m sure they’re regretting that now when they see what I’ve done.

Happy holidays everyone! 🎄

[darthfrodophantom]

Hi its me the Truce Gifter again. There has been. Several changes of plans (You gave too many good prompts I am having so many ideas that do not work together.) I wanted to just check and make sure that Post dissection is A-OK with you.

I am absolutely okay with post-dissection! Lab Rat was like a formative fic for me.

[darthfrodophantom]

They really know how to get my attention.

“And they aren’t talking” - how did you know I love this trope?

More please! ❤️

We are ineffably elated to confirm that Good Omens will return for a third season! This calls for a round of hot chocolate and sweet treats!

@neil-gaiman

[darthfrodophantom]

Howdy hey! I’m your gifter for the holiday truce and I just had a quick question for you; you gave a Danny and Valerie reveal for one of your prompts, and said you were ok with romantic undertones. I just wanted to ask if its ok if those undertones were a but more just. Regular tones. Overt tones, if you will. All good if not ofc, its why I’m checking, but I have an idea that would be easiest done with a slightly more overt vibe.

Hi! I’m so sorry for the delayed answer! This somehow got buried 😅 I’m fine with any of those tones! I left it kinda vague so it could be creator’s choice! So overt is totally fine with me ☺️

I’m so excited now! ❤️

[darthfrodophantom]

This is so appropriate because this man is literally our modern-day Wonka.