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inthememetime · 2 years

Note

An AU in which a young adult Danny inherits a branch of FentonWorks located on Gotham, he does some work as a Ghost hunter, as Phantom, and as the illusive Ghost King.

Then one day he get an odd request; He, Daniel Fenton, is hired to protect the hero Phantom, himself, from the evil ghost king, also himself, at the request of the Justice League.

🤣 I fucking love you, anon. I would credit you if I could. I'm calling this: Fenton, King of the Scams

Due to length, I'm splitting this bad boi in two.

Danny got into the 'family business' mostly due to a lack of other options. Anywhere that would do blood or physical tests would spot he wasn't completely human pretty quick. But, despite working in FentonWorks, he gained a reputation both from ghosts and humans as an extremely fair arbitrator.

He won't destroy your property- unless absolutely necessary- but he WILL sit down with you and the ghost bothering you and figure it out. 90% of the time, the ghost just can't get to the GZ, or needs to talk to a friend/family member one last time. Sure, you're out $25/hour, but the problems are almost always solved without bloodshed.

He's even worked with Constantine a few times! Nobody knows why, but ghosts really seem to respect him. And the JL respects him as well.

News, however, moves slowly in some parts and quickly in others from one side of the veil to the other. The JL knows, now, the Ghost King is up and around permanently. (True)

They know that, historically, the GK is evil. (True- with Pariah. Most of the others were good. There's a reason the former kings kept their names, and Pariah's was changed to...well...Pariah)

And they know Pariah Dark hates mediums and living humans. (True!)

They do not, however, know that the Ghost King has changed; The King of the Damned, Lord of Screams is an unknown, although he does admit- having his Title reflect his ghostly wail means it's a little bit ominous.

Phantom, meanwhile, is known as a superhero- albeit a dead one. He works with the Bats, the JL, and YJL willingly.

No one has, as of yet, connected patient (albeit snarky), careful Danny Fenton with aggressive, often asshole-ish Phantom. Fewer still- outside of Amity Park- have connected Phantom to the Ghost King of the Damned. Or, more commonly in Amity Park- King Phantom.

Danny found this out on a normal Tuesday evening.

"Phantom!" Batman called, and the ghost stopped to hover nearby.

"Hey tall, dark, and furry! What's shakin'?"

Batman scowled. (Victory!) "Phantom, the Justice League has a long-term contract for you."

"Ooh! What is it?"

Batman handed him a folder. "Let me know tomorrow night- same time and place- if you can take it."

"You got it, bats! Good night, sleep tight, don't let the dead bugs bite!" He cackled as he flew away. "Dead bugs. Ooh that was a good one."

When he returned- not home, he knew there was a tracker (it had become somewhat of a game between him and the batfam. Loser bought BatBurgers)- he looked through it. And promptly laughed until he nearly cried.

The next day, he- as Fenton- went to the JL's Gotham station. "Hi, Leslie, I'd like to speak with- Batman probably isn't in yet. Constantine? Or someone involved on order 7 GH-1800B?"

The receptionist looked through- she couldn't see any details past level 2, but she could see who to direct him to for questions. "You're in luck, Danny! Batman, Constantine, Superman, Green Lantern, and Green Arrow are all on it. Superman's up top, just take the blue elevator and push the top floor button."

"Thanks!" It said something that he was here often enough to be friends with the staff. He'd never get over the beauty of space. Every time, as Fenton or Phantom, it took his breath away. The way the stars wheeled, the way he could hear them thanks to his obsession.

"Still beautiful, isn't it?" A voice asked. He jolted, then grinned apologetically at Superman.

"Sorry. I was supposed to be finding you, but- every time, it gets more beautiful."

He nodded. "I can understand that. How can I help you, Mr. Fenton?"

"Danny, please. I actually had some questions on this order protecting me from the Ghost King?"

"Sure. I know Phantom's not the most discrete hero," fair, but ouch, "but his power set is best able to combat ghosts."

"Oh, I know that- we worked together a lot, back in Illinois. I guess the question is- why from the Ghost King? The current one isn't bad. I'd say he's pretty good, myself."

Superman smiled a little pityingly. "I know you think the best of ghosts- and usually, you're right! But this guy- we've been looking at historical records, and he's a real piece of work."

"Oh, you mean Pariah Dark," he said, now understanding. Easy mistake.

"Exactly. So until we get a few ways to combat him, we'd like to keep our Ghost Expert safe and sound." An alarm blared before he could correct the Man of Steel. "I've got to go- just stay safe, ok, Danny?"

"But Pariah Dark is- aaand you're gone. Ok then."

Maybe it was time to come clean to the JL. Memories of being on a dissection table at a GIW base, turned in by someone he'd trusted, flooded him and he winced. Or he could make easy money protecting himself.

Yeah. That sounded good.

"Did you really have to drop the trackers in a pile of bat droppings at the zoo?"

"You found them! Hey, at least we know it works even if you're-"

"Phantom," he warned.

"In deep-"

"Don't."

"In deep shit."

Batman sighed heavily.

"I'll take it, by the way. I talked to Fenton, we worked together a lot, he's cool with it."

Batman rubbed his temples. "Thank you."

"Sure! Hey, can you even feel yourself through that material? Whoa, that came out wrong. I meant can you feel your head- oh, that's not better."

"Have a good night, Phantom."

"You too! Sorry for the innuendo! It'll probably happen again."

"At least you recognize that." Was that a smile? Double score!

---

"So how's this look?"

"Good, but do we really want to summon the Ghost King?"

"That's the only way we'll find out if this works- it's been months. We need to know if the weapons we've altered with hurt him."

The summoning began. It was a long, tedious affair; generally, if one knew a spirit's title, they could do a summoning in just a few minutes. But something like this? Constantine and Zantana agreed, it was some of their best work. The King wouldn't be able to escape this, and more importantly, would be unable to attack them.

After nearly half an hour, the two magic users plopped on the ground, sweating and exhausted. "Is...something supposed to be happening?" Asked the Flash.

"It didn't work. HOW didn't it work?!"

Superman cleared his throat. "Would it still work if you had the wrong name?"

Slowly, both magic users turned to him. "Explain," the magician hissed, and Constantine pulled out a cigarette.

Superman cleared his throat. "Well. What if Pariah Dark isn't a title, but a name?"

Constantine closed his eyes. "Fuck this. Alright, Supes, what happened?"

"Well- Mr. Fen- ah, Danny came by to ask about the order of protection. He said the Ghost King was an okay guy, and then asked if I 'meant Pariah Dark'. So would that affect it?"

Constantine rose, left the room, and screamed. After a moment, he returned. "Somebody call Fenton, please. We need a nap."

"And a beer!"

"Two beers. Each."

"Oh, hey, Wonder Woman. How are you doing? Did your curator friend find another haunted artifact?"

"Well, thank you. And yourself?"

"Pretty good, thanks!"

She smiled. "Good. She does have a few leads, but nothing solid yet. I was wondering if you could tell me about a few ghosts?"

He nodded. "Sure, sure. Want something to drink?"

"Whatever you're having is fine," she replied easily, and sat on his creaky old couch.

He sat across from her and passed over a mug of hot cocoa. "So, who can I tell you about?"

"Let's start with Pariah Dark."

He made a curious noise. "You know, Supes asked me about him a few days ago, but ran off before I could say anything. Are you looking for his powers, history, or?"

"Is Pariah Dark a name or a title?" She asked.

"Bit of both. He became king a few thousand years ago, but was just the worst. When he was stopped the first time, ghosts stopped using his real name, and replaced anything with his name on it with Pariah. Dark was his real last name, though."

She frowned. "The first time? He is no longer the King?"

"About...eh, a thousand years ago, give or take a few centuries, the Ancients got together and sealed him to stop him from destroying the world. Nobody could win head-on, though, so he was king in name. Then, a few years back, he was released, and decided to do the whole destroy the world thing again," he said.

"But the current King didn't want the world to be destroyed, so he, Phantom, and other ghosts held him at bay long enough for him to challenge and win in single combat, then become king. Like I told Superman, though, he's a good guy."

"And do you know this new King's name?"

Oh. Shit. "We're allies, and it's incredibly unwise to share information like that about him," although technically, they already knew it, "but I can tell you that he's known as the King of the Damned, and he's very human friendly, minus a few crazies."

There. They'd be able to summon him with an incomplete title, but bindings wouldn't work without at least part of his name and his full title. It was why beings like Clockwork went by 'Master of Time', or Clockwork instead of their true name.

Wonder Woman's gaze sharpened- she'd caught onto the half truth. Luckily for him, her emergency communicator beeped before she could get out her lasso. Hooo boy. Maybe he needed to lay low in the GZ for a bit.

"Phantom, where is Fenton? The person you were asked to guard?" Batman asked.

The other side of the communicator was silent. "Phantom, respond." Silence. Batman turned to Constantine. "Any luck?"

He shook his head. "Turns out he didn't give us a true name. I keep getting images of his female counterpart in Illinois or a weird thermos, most of the time," he said. He sighed deeply. "The rest of the time, there's a ghost way scarier than Phantom in a crown."

"It's my fault," the Amazonian princess said quietly. "I kept pressing about Pariah Dark and the new King. Fenton warned me sharing information about the current Ghost King was unwise- I should've known even speaking about him could get Fenton in trouble. And if Phantom swore to you to protect Fenton, well."

"Hey, you didn't know the guy had a werewolf with portal powers that would just kidnap him," the Flash offered. "Who could? It's nuts."

"I think we only have one choice," Superman said warily, "and I don't like it." Superman had an understandable nervousness of ghosts- they were one of the only things that could reliably harm him without kryptonite.

"Neither do I. But l'll see if Zatanna is free."

In the secretary's desk, who'd had to leave early a week ago and was still in the hospital, was a note from one Daniel J. Fenton. It said, in general, that he was sorry he had to leave abruptly, but he would be perfectly safe with Phantom as an honored guest at the Ghost King's court for the next month.

The interim receptionist incorrectly noted this as junk mail, or perhaps a bit of fanfiction, and let it alone.

There was a painful tug in Danny's gut, and he groaned. "My liege?" Fright Knight asked.

"My apologies, I'm being summoned to the mortal realm," he said, then cocked his head to the side. "As King, not Phantom. Hmm. I'll see you all as soon as I can."

"We understand," said Queen Dora, and Danny took his true form.

Phantom looked like a young man, albeit with white hair, big eyes- basically, as friendly as he could while still being taken seriously. His true form was a little more...eldritch. He didn't actually have feet like this, just a long, black tail. His entire body, really, was that of a massive black serpent made out of static- if serpents had four arms with sharp claws, if their coils randomply dissipated into green and black smoke before remaking, and-

Ok. He looked...nothing like a serpent. Danny did, however, have to admit, the black crown, burning in ectoplasmic fire that matched the curling green horns and solid green eyes did make a pretty cool accessory for summonings.

Danny liked summonings- sometimes. More accurately, he liked fucking with people. And this would be a perfect- wait, was that Constantine?

At first, John thought it another dud. Nothing appeared in the circle. "Is it just me, or is the temp dropping in here?" The Flash asked.

Batman grunted- as good a yes as they'd get.

"King of the Damned, you have been summoned to this place. Show yourself!"

Constantine, a moment later, wished he hadn't spoken. It was impossible to keep track of the monster before them- its' body kept shifting and changing. One moment, static. The next, a clear view of the milky way. The next, stars he'd never seen before and that no mortal was meant to.

"Y̷o̵u̶'̸l̸l̴ ̴f̴i̴n̸d̶ ̵i̶t̴ ̸e̴a̵s̴i̸e̷r̷ ̵t̸o̶ ̷f̷o̶c̴u̷s̷ ̶o̵n̴ ̸m̶y̵ ̸f̴a̸c̶e̶,̵" said the King, kindly enough. Superman covered his ears and winced.

He- it? Danny'd always referred to it as a he. He was right. Somehow, the massive, green glowing maw filled with giant teeth and solid, unblinking eyes below fiery white hair and massive horns was easier to focus on. He hurriedly looked away from the horns, which were changing shape and size as quick as the rest of him.

"Right. We're looking for a missing persons- two, actually," he said. "Do you know where Danny Fenton and the spirit known as Phantom are?"

Did he know- Danny couldn't help the laugh. "O̷f̴ ̴c̷o̶u̴r̷s̶e̵!̷ ̷T̴h̴e̸y̷ ̴l̵e̵f̸t̴ ̴a̶ ̴n̷o̷t̷e̶ ̸f̷o̵r̴ ̸y̵o̸u̸,̸ ̶r̶e̴m̷e̶m̵b̵e̸r̴?̶"

Batman spoke. "We received no notes."

The King frowned. "L̵e̶s̵l̷i̴e̸ ̷d̵i̸d̸n̶'̶t̶ ̷g̵e̶t̶ ̵i̸t̷ ̶t̷o̴ ̷y̴o̵u̴?̷ ̶F̶e̶n̶t̴o̴n̶ ̸s̵a̷i̶d̵ ̶h̸e̸ ̸l̴e̶f̷t̷ ̷i̸t̴ ̵w̴i̴t̵h̵ ̵a̶ ̸m̵o̷r̸t̴a̴l̵ ̷b̸y̵ ̶t̴h̸a̶t̷ ̵n̶a̵m̷e̴.̶" He tacked on the 'mortal' at the last moment. Man, it was hard to be yourself while playing like you weren't yourself, while acting like you knew yourself a little.

Flash jumped up, and less than a second later, cleared his throat sheepishly. "So, uh. Honored guests at your court?"

He nodded.

"Can we talk to them? One or both?"

#inthememetime #danny phantom #danny phantom au #dp x dc #dpxdc #ghost king danny #john constantine #danny fenton #ask answered #fenton King of Scams #long post

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doctorshipper137 · 2 years

Text

Never Poke My Child

[Danny wants peace from Vlad's childish games and their fights.

Clockwork cannot always be there to save the day but he will do anything for Daniel and knows just a thing to make Vladimir stop his chase after Ghost child.

Walker owns him after all]

_______________________________

"Why that fruitloop…" Danny grits his teeth getting Ecto blast by Vlad Plasmius a.k.a Vlad Masters whose first Half Ghost and human just like him.

"Have you changed your mind, little badger?" Plasmius asks, floating above him. "You know I hate doing this to you"

"You know my answer will always be 'NO' to you" Danny replied, getting up from the ground and rubbing his shoulder where Vlad shot him. "Why are you so obsessed with me anyway? I thought you were after my mum? Even though I am glad you are no longer after her"

"As much as I love Maddie, which I still do! You are my top priority…"

"Great, I feel special"

Plasmius landed on the ground and grinned. "Does that mean you will be my son?"

Danny hums fake thinking and taps his foot. "Hm…how about…NOOO!!!" He shouts, scaring the shit out of the older ghost and blowing him away using a Ghostly wail.

They were fighting outside the Casper High school building, it was weird how no one had noticed them yet except Sam and Tucker who watched their fight and worried for their friend.

"We have to do something!"

"What can we do? If it was technology I would have been hacked and I can't call Police to help us, can we?"

Sam's eyes wide and look at Tucker. "That's it! Call Clockwork now!"

Tucker immediately pulls out his phone and calls Master of time.

The phone was specifically made by Technus that can help make a call in the Ghost Zone and the Human world with ease.

Danny and Sam find out Tucker was friends with Technus because of their shared love for Technology.

It didn't surprise them because Tucker never leaves his PDA like it's his baby and always plays with it.

"The number you try to reach is out of reach, please don't try later because I don't have time for the boy scouts, Good day" The call cut off before Tucker would speak and look at Sam with a dumbfounded expression.

"What did he say?"

"He…said hi?"

"Huh?"

_________________________

‘Honestly, what do they think I am? Knight in shining armor?’ Clockwork thought as he watched the mirror where Daniel and Vladimir were fighting with each other.

He cannot always interfere and saves the day.

Although he can bend rules and teach Vladimir a lesson that he will never forget.

Yes, maybe he should.

Nonetheless, he stays there and watches over the time stream. His time hasn’t come yet and he is always on time.

Clockwork adult form changes to child form and Old form. Ah, he sometimes can’t control his forms.

“Now…How should I approach this?” He mumbled to himself. “So many choices…”

_______________________

It has been 5 weeks since Danny fought with Vlad, He just hopes Vlad doesn’t decide to pop out of nowhere and attacks him again. His surprise visit always leaves him in buries and annoyance.

Currently, the group is visiting Nasty Burger after their Ghost hunt and avoiding Dash’s group who wants to bully Danny because it’s his fault he got a ‘C’ on his history test.

“I don’t even understand how that is my fault! I didn’t overshadow him and make him fail the test!” Danny says in frustration and anger.

“Did you?” Tucker and Sam ask at the same time looking at him.

“No! Why would I? I have a lot of work on my plate and fighting with ghosts…Plus ever since the Pointdexter accident I decided to never bully again…I almost became Dash in a way…” Danny replied.

“You learn the lesson”

“True, in a hard way…”

“Cheer up, Danny! One large meat in buns will clear all your troubles away! In fact, why don’t you come to my house? Mum will be making steak tonight”

Before Danny would say a word, his ghost sense went off, and groaned. “Great…Trouble”

All three look up at the sky where they see none other than Vlad in his Ghost form Plasmius flying and ready to fight.

Danny looks around to see no one and glares at the Halfa Ghost. “Don’t make me sue you, fruit loop! Attacking a minor and stalker is illegal!”

“It’s the Father’s job to look out for his children”

“NOT YOUR CHILD!!”

Plasmins shrugs. “Deny as much as you want”

Danny throws his bag at Tucker and takes a stance. “I am going Ghost!”

Plasmins smirks seeing the transformation and raises his hand ready to blast him. After Transformation Danny Fenton turns into Danny Phantom, he flies toward him in speed and dodges the Ecto-Blast then slams himself into Plasmins.

“I AM GONNA KICK YOUR BUTT, FRUIT LOOP!!”

“TRY IT, LITTLE BADGER!!”

“Gosh, they do fight like a father and son duo” Tucker commented dumbfounded.

“Don’t let Vlad hear you saying this…” Sam says already feeling tired and watching the fight. “I don’t get it…Why is he so obsessed with Danny? Why not go after his mother?”

Tucker funnily looked at her. “Do you want him to?”

Sam made a sick face and shook her head. “Nope”

Suddenly a portal opens, and Clockwork flies out of it in his child form and looks at the fight with an unreadable expression.

“Hey, it’s Clockwork!” Tucker exclaims in surprise and is startled.

Clockwork changes to his adult form and looks at the two children with a calm smile. “Hello Samantha and Tucker”

“Here to stop the fight?”

“In a way, yes”

“Dude, why did you ignore my call the first time?”

“I was busy” Clockwork lied easily. “Besides it isn’t my time”

Sam frowned. “What do you mean?”

They heard Danny scream and land on the ground beside them. Danny sat up and rubs his head. “A little help would be nice guys…” Danny says rubbing his head and his ghost senses went off. His eyes widen and see Clockwork floating on his side. Danny gets up and looks alert. “What are you doing here? Did something happen? Did Dan escape? Is there Timeline about to get destroyed because of me again!?”

Clockwork put his hand on his shoulder and shook his head. “I am here to give Vladimir a taste of his own medicine”

“Huh?” Danny looks confused. “What do you mean?”

“Give up already, little badger? I just-“ Plasminus froze seeing Clockwork and frowns. “What are you doing here?”

Clockwork adult form changes to old form and grins. “Duck”

Plasminus looked confused by that and yelped, getting hit from behind. Danny, Sam, and Tucker’s jaws drop seeing the attacker was none other than Walker himself along with some guards.

“Vlad Plasminus, you are under arrest!” Walker says proudly and arm crossed behind his back.

“For what?” Plasminus asks after he composes himself and looks at Wadern with a deadpan. “I didn’t do any crime!”

Walker pulls out a rule book and opens it. “Section -0991 Crime 69 ‘Assault the underage minor’ The sentence…” He shut the book and pointed his finger at him. “10,000 YEARS!!!!”

“WHAT!?!?”

Danny unconsciously turns back to his human form and looks at Clockwork. “Oh my god…you sue him for me? To Walker!?”

“I had a much more fitting lesson for him…But I found this situation very amusing besides Wadern owns me” Clockwork says grinning madly. “Now he won’t bother you for a while”

“Oh yeah…He can’t get out of Ghost Jail” Tucker said, finding this amusing as well.

“If he was in Human jail he could have gotten out easily but how will he get out of Ghost Jail…” Sam laughs. “Money won’t save him from Walker himself!”

Danny couldn’t hold himself back and hugged Clockwork. “THANK YOU!!!”

Clockwork hugs him back. “No one can touch you while I am around, Daniel”

“W-WAIT! THIS IS A MISTAKE! I AM NOT-“

“GET HIM, BOYS! DON’T LET HIM ESCAPE!”

“STOP IN THE NAME OF LAW!!”

Plasmins flies out of there like a rocket and Walker follows after him along with the squad while Danny, Clockwork, Sam, and Tucker laugh at Vlad’s dismay.

___________________________

#danny phantom #clockwork #danny #vlad plasmius #Danny is so done #Mentor Clockwork #Ghost #Walker #Vlad just loves messing with little badage #Fruitloop

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lexosaurus · 3 years

Text

Invisobang: Morge pt 2

It was a beautiful day outside. The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming...a corpse was found in the woods.

Or, Amity Park's local cadaver dog trainer was walking her dog in the woods when they discovered a little surprise waiting for them six feet under.

Pairings: none WC: 9886 read on: [ao3] part 2 of 2, read: [part 1]

---

some amazing accompanying art by @ghostkiin

---

“It’s like you’re not even trying!” Plasmius barked, throwing Danny an exaggerated yawn while blocking the ectoblasts thrown his way. “Really, Daniel, you were always woefully incapable compared to me, but this is just abysmal, even for you.”

Danny gritted his teeth and glared back, allowing his glowing eyes to glare to toxic levels. Plasmius picked the wrong week to try to steal blueprints from Fentonworks.

“What, are you going to hit me with a little ectoblast again?”

“Oh I’ll show you an ectoblast,” Danny growled, charging ectoplasm in his palms so concentrated that the green glowed a fierce white. He flung his hands out, releasing the energy with a venomous, “eat shit, Fruitloop!”

But just like the rest of his life, his attack was uncontrolled, wild. It flew several feet to Vlad’s side, nailing a road sign and burning it like acid until there was nothing left.

Plasmius grinned at its charred remains. “Was that supposed to hit me? My, Daniel, I’m quaking in my boots!”

Danny felt his aura increase.

This week had already been shitty enough, even without Vlad’s help. He felt like his brain was trapped in a hailstorm, with constant unavoidable attacks pelting him from all sides. His core was a ball of energy and anxiety, not allowing him to sleep or eat or even breathe without the constant fear about his body and how it was being messed with and he needed to protect it and how he’d failed so miserably at protecting it and now his secret was going to be revealed and he was screwed.

“Well? I’m waiting! Tick tock, Little Badger!”

Ancients, Vlad was such an asshole.

“Shut UP!” Danny yelled, releasing his ghostly wail.

Just as a pink blast slapped him across the face, sending him flying into a brick building.

Plasmius tisked, flying nonchalantly towards him. “We can’t have you using that particular power, now can we? Not while you’re so obviously in control of yourself.”

“Fuck off.”

The older ghost smirked and brushed dust off his red and white cape. “Teenagers. Always so hormonal. What, did a girl at school reject you?”

“What are you talking about?” Danny launched himself back in the air and powered an ice blast. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t care what you have to say.”

“No, I’m sure you don’t,” Vlad said, releasing a plasmius blast just before Danny released his own. The pink blast travelled across the air like a bullet, punching Danny in the gut and sending him crashing back into the building.

Meanwhile, Danny’s ice blast flew a foot above Vlad’s head, webbing itself into a tree and coating the branches with thick icicles.

Danny tried to push himself back onto his shaky feet, only to be pushed back down yet again by another plasmius blast.

Brick tumbled onto his head, coating his vision with dust. His body ached, and his neck was sore from the whiplash.

From his clouded vision, a glowing white figure with red eyes and gaudy horn-like spikes for hair hovered closer to him.

“My, my. You really are out of sorts today,” Plasmius said. “This is almost too easy. I could just take you out right here and go take your parents’ entire spectre speeder straight from your lab.

“What do you even need a spectre speeder for? You can fly,” Danny asked, rubbing a lump from his skull.

“A simple minded teenager such as yourself couldn’t possibly understand my reasons.”

Anger flared through Danny. He gripped some wreckage next to him and forced himself back onto his feet. His legs shook and he felt something wet drip down his calf.

Great, he was bleeding. Just add that to the list of reasons as to why this week was the worst.

“Shut up. I won’t let you do that.”

“Oh?” Plasmius powered a pink blast in each hand. “Then prove it.”

Danny tried, but with each attempted blast, kick, or punch, it seemed like Plasmius was one step ahead of him.

And worse, it felt like he was reveling in the power trip.

A burn here, a kick there—everywhere Danny looked, there was Vlad, glowing fist at the ready. It reminded him of the first time he’d encountered Vlad, back at the mansion. Having Vlad so openly destroy him had been shameful.

Danny collapsed onto the pavement, heaving, his entire body searing in pain.

Plasmius paused to survey him up and down with suspicious eyes. Finally, just as Danny was one breath away from turning invisible out of sheer discomfort, did the ghost finally open his mouth. “Alright, spit it out.”

Anxiety gripped Danny’s stomach. “What are you talking about?”

“Something’s troubling you enough to make you pathetically weak. It’s honestly embarrassing. I can’t stand here watching my future ward make a fool of himself any longer.”

“I’m not moving in with you, creep,” Danny bit back.

“That’s what you think. No matter, tell your dear old uncle what’s troubling you.”

“Go play in traffic.”

Plasmius’ eyes narrowed. “I’d nearly forgotten what a brat you are. Now tell me before I take methods into my own hands.”

Danny sighed, and attempted to stand. But the moment his foot touched the ground, a sharp pain shot up his shin. He hissed, and lowered himself back to the pavement.

“Well? I don’t have all day.”

“It’s nothing,” Danny grumbled, glaring at the pavement. He felt small under Plasmius’ critical gaze. “Nothing at all.”

“It’s obviously something,” Plasmius said, landing in front of Danny. “Now quit wasting my time and tell me what it is before I—”

“Then why don’t you leave? If I’m just wasting your precious time, then go home! It’s not like you even care about me anyways.”

Vlad leaned in, flaring his aura. “In case it’s not clear to your simple teenage brain, your actions represent the both of us. You fuck up, I have to pay the consequences.”

“Who says this is even about ghost stuff?” Danny hissed. “For all you know, I got in a fight with Jazz.”

Vlad scoffed. “Do you seriously believe me to be that stupid? Of course it’s about your identity! Why else would your core be acting so wildly if its Obsession weren’t at stake?”

Danny flinched.

“You did something, and I want to know what it is so I can determine if I need to run damage control on you or not before you blow this for all of us.”

“It’s...” Danny felt his aura pull back. “It’s about...you know…”

“I can assure you I do not know.”

“I...I might have…the police may have found...it…’

Plasmius sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand. “What did they find?”

“My—my, uh...body?”

“You mean your identity?” Plasmius’ eyes widened.

“Not exactly.” Danny felt his face burn. “You know...the body I left when I...after the accident.”

Plasmius reacted instantly. He shot up, glancing around, before grabbing Danny and pulling him through a hastily erected portal.

Danny felt his body squeeze through the portal and then seconds later, he was in Vlad’s study. The ghost threw Danny on his loveseat and heightened his aura. His brows creased, and his eyes glowed a dangerous shade of red. “What exactly do you mean when you say the police found your deceased body? How did this happen? What the hell did you do?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Danny cried indignantly. “They found it with their freakish police dog! I swear I buried it deep in the ground.”

“Well not deep enough, apparently!” Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Of all the stupid, childish things you could do!”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

Vlad ripped his hands away from his face, his eyes snapping back to Danny. He took a step closer to the teen, his eyes narrowing until a red glow peaked underneath. “Then whose fault would it be exactly, hmm? What, is this yet another piece of blame you’re going to cast upon my shoulders? Me, the halfa who has managed to keep this a well kept secret for over twenty years when you apparently can’t even manage to keep it to yourself for one?”

Danny let his own ghostly strength shine through his eyes. “Quit acting like I invited them all over. I didn’t, it was a coincidence. A mistake.”

“Oh, goodness me!” Vlad let out a sardonic laugh. “I guess when the Ghost Investigative Ward appear at my doorstep in a month, I’ll just tell them it was all a mistake. That’s sure to turn them right around!”

“Shut up.”

“No I will not.” Vlad’s face set back into a scowl. “You have proven yourself to be a liability again and again, and every single time it’s me who has to clean up your little messes. Messes that you don’t seem to realize could be the end of our kind!”

Anxiety shot through Danny’s stomach. He gripped the arm rests of the chair, squeezing them so tightly he heard the faint sounds of cracking in the wood.

“And now you mean to tell me that the police have your rotting, ectoplasm-drenched inhuman corpse in their possession?” Vlad yelled. “And you’re really trying to argue with me that it was just a simple mistake?”

Danny’s shaking hand slipped, tearing off a chunk of the armchair. It clattering to the floor. “I don’t—I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t…”

Vlad closed his eyes, but Danny could still see the wisps of red shimmering through his eyelids. “No, of course you didn’t. But that doesn’t mean we can let them keep it.”

“I’ve tried.” His voice cracked. “I keep trying to convince them to stop, but they won’t—”

“What, you actually thought they’d listen to you? A ghost? My boy, I know you were dim, but this is truly extraordinary.”

Danny sniffed, keeping his head down. He felt like an egg boiling over, the yolk just one jolt away from breaking.

“No…” Plasmius hummed. “What we need is to take it back by force.”

“We can’t, they have the whole morgue under a shield. We can get in as ghosts, and it’d look too suspicious if we showed up as humans.”

“Unfortunately, you may be right about us appearing as humans. We can’t do that. But,” Plasmius’ tone shifted, “one thing we can do is break the shield.”

Danny froze. He gazed questioningly up at the older ghost, who was facing the window with a renewed sense of determination. “Break the shield? How? We can’t touch it!”

“No, but the shield doesn’t exist on its own. It has to be generated from somewhere, doesn’t it? Do you see? We break the device, we break the shield.”

Danny wasn’t following, and he was sure his face betrayed that much.

“Listen, Little Badger. Ghosts cannot touch the shield or the device, but who says—oh I don’t know—maybe a collapsed ceiling might do the trick? Some torn cables, perhaps? After all, with no energy supply, how could it possibly generate the power necessary to produce a shield?”

Danny felt his eyes widen. Something icy settled in his gut. When he spoke, his voice was hollow. “You want to destroy the building.”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t be so crude, but perhaps a few colleagues of mine might be swayed—”

“No.” Danny stood automatically.

Vlad’s head snapped over to him. “No?”

He could feel Vlad’s confusion, and it blended with his own. Deep down, he knew he needed to stop at nothing to get his body back, but collapsing the building? Putting others in danger?

Putting his remains in danger of ruin?

What if something happened? What if a brick fell on his skull? What if a spike tore his abdomen in half?

No, he couldn’t do it. It wasn’t worth the risk.

This was wrong.

“We can’t,” Danny choked out. “You’ll hurt it.”

“I don’t think you understand, Little Badger,” Vlad hissed, leaning down.

Danny could feel the heat of his red eyes on his skull.

“With the position you’ve put us both in? You don’t get to decide what happens to your corpse now.”

“No, Vlad. I’m serious. You can’t—”

“And so am I.” Plasmius straightened, and his aura tinted to a dangerous pink. “You’ve put us at risk one time too many. Now I’m taking things into my own hands. And no amount of scary eyes is going to sway me.”

In one motion, Vlad ripped open a portal and pushed Danny through. Before he could blink, he was back in the damp alley they’d just been in.

“Good day, Danny Phantom.”

Plasmius shut the portal, and Danny was alone.

---

“Thank you for taking the time to come talk to us about this,” Mark said, opening the conference room door for the consultant before him. “This case is unfortunately a bit out of my expertise, and the lab results are even more perplexing. Hopefully you’ll be able to parse through the documents much easier than I.”

Dr. Maddie Fenton, dressed in her typical turquoise lab attire, stepped through the door and took a seat at the table. “Of course, I’m always happy to help Amity’s law enforcement protect its citizens against ghosts.”

“Well,” Mark pulled out a chair for himself, placing the manila folders against the table. “This is actually a bit more complex.”

“Oh?” Dr. Fenton reached for the folders.

“To bring you up to speed, I mentioned on the phone that we needed your assistance with a murder case involving a ghost. But there’s a bit more to it.”

She opened the folder and leafed through the files.

“The truth is the body we uncovered we believe to be Phantom’s body.”

Dr. Fenton paused, her eyebrows shooting up. She glanced up at Mark. “That’s a rather serious case. What evidence do you have to support that?”

“Well…” Mark started. “When we uncovered the body, Phantom appeared above it, and was acting rather erratically. Like a cornered animal, almost.”

“He felt threatened.”

“Right.” He nodded. “But it’s more than that. When we ran forensics on the body, we found that all our lab results were corrupted with ectoplasm. Ectoplasm that when we ran the ectosignature for, turned out to be Phantom’s.”

Dr. Fenton looked back down at the files. “That’s highly unusual.”

“Well we were hoping you’d be able to piece this all together.” Mark gestured to the files.

“I see…” Dr. Fenton’s voice trailed off. Her eyes scanned the page, hungrily soaking up each word. The silence stretched on for a few minutes as Mark awaited her opinion.

Contacting the Fentons had been something Mark had been pushing off for as long as possible. The Fentons were loud, boisterous, and not at all known for their professionalism nor tact.

But it was either they contact the Fentons or the Ghost Investigation Ward. And despite Phantom’s cold demeanor towards the detectives, Mark still had hope that perhaps he could gain the teen ghost’s trust. And to do that, the GiW could not be anywhere near the station.

Of the duo, Maddie Fenton seemed the most level-headed. And it had just been Mark’s luck that of the pair, she was the one with a doctorate in ectobiology. Which meant that it was perfectly understandable when Mark had requested that she alone come into the station to review the files.

“We’re trying to keep this on the down-low. If Phantom feels like we’re going to turn him over to the government, he’ll clam up. As it stands we’re only barely getting information out of him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t trust anything he says anyway,” she said, not looking up from the paper. “He’ll do whatever possible to keep himself safe. Ghosts are products of their Obsessions, and Phantom is no different. If he feels like this investigation is going to come in the way of him being able to feed into his Obsession, then he’ll do anything to stop that from happening. No matter who he hurts in the process.”

Mark felt a shudder creep up his spine. “Do you think he could be lying about this being his body? Maybe he could have been the one to kill this boy and is trying to cover it up?”

“Hmm…no, that doesn’t seem likely given the labs. And besides, it would be highly unusual for Phantom to be summoned to a body that wasn’t his. Although…” Dr. Fenton mused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this before.”

“Like what?”

“Well, when an animal dies near a cluster of ambient ectoplasm, their body runs the risk of forming a ghost. However, there must be a significant final moment for the neural pathways in the brain to bond with the ectoplasm. That moment translates into an Obsession, which forms the core that the ghost then forms around. If a human dies peacefully, there’s nothing to work with. But if the human dies violently, or if they die with unfinished business, that gives the ambient ectoplasm something to charge with.”

Mark nodded politely, not seeing where this was going. This was all common knowledge for the people of Amity, and Mark had certainly seen enough of the Fentons’ public speeches to understand these basics.

“The ambient ectoplasm comes from the electrical connections in the brain, unrelated to what’s happening in the body. It’s why a human can be paralyzed from the waist-down, but still form a ghost with functioning legs. Do you see what I’m saying?”

Mark nodded, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not seeing how this relates to Phantom specifically?”

“There’s no real reason that Phantom’s human body should have been corrupted by ectoplasm. In fact, there’s never been a case of a human body with an ectosignature embedded in its cells. It’s virtually impossible, in fact. Living cells are completely incompatible with ectoplasm.”

Mark stared down at his own copy of the reports, his mind reeling. “You’ve never seen this before?”

“Not in my twenty years in this field.”

“Do you have any idea what could have caused this?”

Dr. Fenton pursed her lips. “There’s one...it would explain a lot about him actually. Human experimentation.”

Oh.

Shit.

“You don’t think…” Mark’s voice trailed off, his tongue incapable of finishing the sentence. To think that some sick individual would even attempt such a thing.

“It’s the only logical explanation here.” Dr. Fenton gestured at her folder. “Or at least, the only one I can piece together given this information. Phantom would have had to have died after interacting with an intense amount of ecto-technology. Technology with the power to chemically alter every cell in his living body just before finishing him off with electrocution. Of course, it’s just a theory. Only Phantom knows the truth.”

“Right.” He could hardly process what was being said. “But he won’t tell us the truth.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. Ghosts run a different social hierarchy than humans, theirs is far more simple. It’s entirely based on strength. The stronger the ghost, the better they protect their haunt, the more respect they’re given within ghost culture. If Phantom shows weakness, then the other ghosts can use that to dethrone him as the human world’s great protector.”

“But we’re not ghosts.”

“But he is.” Dr. Fenton cocked her head. “This explains other things too. Like the fact that Phantom, a relatively new ghost, is already a level seven on the ectoplasm power scale.”

“I assume that’s unusual.”

“Quite. It would have had to require an extremely intense death at the very least. But human experimentation with ectoplasm, feelling your body reject itself from the inside out, every strand of DNA being corrupted by the essence of death—that’s not an end I’d wish on my worst enemies.”

“And now we have his corpse. Phantom’s going to feel incredibly threatened. He’s bound to lash out.”

Dr. Fenton nodded gravely. “Then you better wrap this investigation up quickly, because Phantom is still a young ghost. He’s impatient, like a child. The longer you take to solve this case, the more unstable he’ll get. And I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end when he finally snaps.”

---

A dull unease panged at Danny’s core. It was calling to him, trying to goad him to his corpse.

Trouble, trouble, trouble, it seemed to whisper.

But he ignored it, just like he’d been ignoring it all this time. Because no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get past the shields, he couldn’t get back to his corpse.

He was powerless. Alone.

Scared.

He tried to focus on his math worksheet, but the numbers blurred together and he couldn’t remember what eight times seven was. He had a calculator, but it was in his bag and he couldn’t remember what pocket he’d shoved it into, or even if he’d remembered to put it in his bag last night after staring blankly at the homework assignment for an hour without lifting his pencil even once.

No, his calculator was probably still on his desk at home.

Trouble, trouble, trouble.

The voices were louder now, and the pull was more desperate.

His throat hurt, and for a moment he was convinced his lungs were collapsing before he remembered that he’d forgotten to release the air trapped in his lungs and he couldn’t remember when he’d stopped breathing.

“Danny?” Mr. Falluca said from the front of the room. “Is everything alright?”

He commanded his head to nod, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. Maybe he did. He couldn’t check, he couldn’t lift his eyes from the desk.

The voices were too loud.

The dull pang wasn’t so dull anymore.

Trouble, trouble, go now, go now.

The pang was solidifying, taking shape. It was becoming sharper, more urgent.

Go now, go now, go now.

The pokes turned into pricks, threatening to rupture his organs, sending needles down the nerves in his arms and legs. A headache sparked before his eyes and his vision swam.

The voices attacked him from all angles, and fingers brushed against his skin, tugging the sleeves of his shirt towards the window, the ceiling, the wall, the door— anywhere so long as it was away from here. Outside. To the morgue.

Go to the morgue.

Ignore it, be strong. Just ignore it and it’ll go away.

Go now.

No.

Go now, go now, GO NOW.

No, he couldn’t.

The pinpricks finally morphed into one sharp, icy cold knife.

It stabbed his core.

Go now.

He stood from his chair, knocking it back.

Vaguely, he could hear the alarmed cries of his classmates, but he ignored them.

The only thing that mattered was his body. His corpse.

Protect.

A hand grabbed his arm, yanking him back, but he could feel the warmth of the human blood running under its veins and he couldn’t be bothered with human problems right now. Not when he was in danger.

He phased through the grip, and ran out of the classroom. He sprinted down the hall, tearing open the familiar looking door and transforming and taking off into the sky nearly as soon as the sun brushed his skin.

This was different than all the other times his core had tried to coax him to his corpse. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong. His body was in danger, and he needed to save it.

He heard an explosion in the distance, and he increased his speed, feeling his eyes sting as the cool air slapped against his corneas. The world blurred, but it was okay. His core was guiding him now, not his eyes. He didn’t need to see, he just needed to close off and follow his ghostly instincts.

“That’s right!” A deep voice yelled from across the way.

Danny pulled to a halt, blinking the sting from his vision.

Then a boulder flew past his body, hitting the wall of a disturbingly familiar building.

His core yelled in protest. The body was in danger. His body.

“You thought a pesky shield could keep me out? Me, Skulker, the Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter? I’ll show you!”

Ice filled his veins, freezing his aura and building in power around his hands.

Skulker hoisted a parked motorcycle from the edge of the street into the air. “Take this!” he yelled, hurling it into the air.

It was heading straight for the door. It was going to break it, it might break the window, it could damage the body.

An icicle stabbed his core, and before Danny could blink, his hands were raised and jagged blue ice was shooting from his palms, catching the motorcycle in midair and pinning it to the street.

“What is the meaning of this?” Skulker roared, whipping around. His eyes locked on Danny and his confusion melted from this face only to be replaced by a triumphant smirk. “Well hello there, ghost child.”

Danny’s palms burned an even brighter blue. “ Leave,” he hissed, the Ghost Speak slipping off his tongue like butter.

Skulker’s grin widened. “It seems I’ve touched a nerve. Fear not, child, I’m just here to procure your pelt. Well, your other pelt.”

He flashed his aura in a showcase of power that would send most ghosts running for the hills. “Leave.”

A look of contempt replaced the humor on Skulker’s face. His eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered. “I don’t take orders from you, child.”

There was a natural balancing act between his human brain and ghost core, one that ensured that neither half of him was in full control one hundred percent of the time. No matter how human he was, his core still lingered in the background, and no matter how ghost he was, his human brain still kept tabs on his movements.

But now, as Danny watched Skulker rip a slab of concrete from the ground, he felt something snap inside of him.

“Then I have no choice.”

Green overtook his vision, and Danny Fenton simply disappeared.

Time passed—or it didn’t—in swirls of blue and green. If he looked out, he could see the power released from his gloves, he could see the mix of ectoplasm and ice that he was hurling at Skulker, to protect the building, to protect his body, to protect himself from Plasmius.

That vindictive, lonely asshole.

Who was Plasmius to encroach on what was his?

There were flashing lights around him, but Danny paid them no mind. The only thing that mattered was protecting his body.

Protect his haunt.

Protect his people.

Protect.

He could feel the newly pointed teeth pinch his gums, and the ghostly wisps of his hair fizzle around him. But oddly these changes didn’t worry him, instead they made him feel safe, secure. Like a child clinging onto their blanket.

He launched another barrage of attacks at Skulker, tearing holes through his armor. Panic struck Skulker’s features, and all Danny could think of was, ‘good.’ If Skulker wanted to try to claim dominance over his body, then he would suffer tenfold.

And just before he was about to launch a blast at Skulker that was sure to disintegrate his armor, an amplified voice behind him called out, “PHANTOM!”

Danny flinched, his power leaking out of its concentrated ball.

Weak.

“Phantom, stand down!”

Not a chance.

“We have the area surrounded. Stand down or we’ll be forced to shoot.”

“Better listen to your human puppets,” Skulker said, his voice too shaken to sound mocking. “I know when I’ve been bested.”

It took everything in Danny’s power to not launch himself over to Skulker and tear off his head. “You tried to steal my body.”

“That’s a fight between you and Plasmius.”

“Don’t try to get out of this.”

“Phantom,” Detective Johnson said. “Final warning. Stand down.”

Ectoplasm surged throughout his body. “Make me.”

Multiple events happened at once. Skulker motioned to leave just as Danny raised his arms, blistering white light moments away from release. Then, pain seared through his torso.

Danny yelped, jerking his hand back and releasing the ectoblast somewhere off into the sky. He fell back and hit the ecto-shield, sending electrical warnings through his bones.

Memories of the portal, of the thousands of volts of electricity, of the feeling of his bones and muscles and tissues and cells being ripped apart and stitched back together flashed before his eyes. It was too much, all too much too soon too present. He tried blasting the portal but his gloves were splattered with green and oh no, not good, not good.

He was dying, wasn’t he?

Again.

Would he have a second body?

His vision tilted, and finally he managed to rip himself away from the shield. He collapsed onto the cement and stared up at the sky, chest heaving.

He was paralyzed. He knew he had fingers, toes, arms, legs—but they didn’t work. He couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t fly.

He was dying.

“Phantom?” Johnson’s cautious voice sounded from somewhere off to the side. “Sit up, let’s talk through this.”

There was a pregnant pause, and then Danny finally managed to blink. The world snapped back into focus, and his surroundings came with it. He looked down at his torso to see a little hole in his side of his suit surrounded by a trickle of green.

“What—?” Danny gasped.

“I’m gonna put the gun down, okay?” Johnson said. “I just wanna talk.”

“No.” Danny slowly pushed himself up. He surveyed the damage along the walls, the falling bricks on the sidewalk, the shattered windows and bent door. “No, no, no.”

His body wasn’t safe. Not anymore.

“Phantom, come on. Work with me here.”

But he couldn’t. That detective and his partner were just human, they didn’t understand. This was his body and Vlad knew about it and was trying to take matters into his own hands no matter the cost to Danny.

This was a disaster. He shouldn’t have told Vlad anything. He was so stupid for thinking Vlad could help him. He should have known, should have known.

“Phantom.”

“No.”

The cloak of invisibility covered his body, and he shot up into the sky.

Towards the city.

He needed to end this.

---

Sarah felt the chill first.

“You have to stop,” Phantom’s voice echoed behind her.

She sighed and put down her pencil. “Phantom, I thought I explained this already. The police can’t—”

“I don’t care about the police!”

The room grew cold.

“I don’t...ugh!” Phantom floated around her desk, clutching his forehead with one hand and his chest with the other. Mark had just called her with a warning, saying that Phantom was unstable. Looking at the ghost now, Sarah had to agree.

Phantom looked awful.

Dark circles pooled under his eyes, his hair stuck up in all directions, and his face lacked the green blush that normally sat below his skin. His jumpsuit was burned and dried ectoplasm crusted around the torn edges. He looked every bit the image of someone quickly coming undone.

Except this wasn’t just some random person, this was a powerful ghost. This was someone who could easily kill anyone who wronged him.

Or who he felt wronged him.

Deep down, Sarah knew Phantom wasn’t a violent ghost. It didn’t line up with his ghostly Obsession, or the theorized one anyway. But this was his corpse they were dealing with, it was an extension of himself.

Sarah had never confronted a ghost who had lost possession of their corpse. She’d never dealt with a ghost who willingly protected the shield that kept him away from his body if only to make sure it stayed safe. She’d never seen Phantom look so rattled.

At this point, there was no telling what he was capable of.

“Phantom,” she tried cautiously. “You need to calm down.”

“No, you need to tell your buddies to call off this investigation!”

“You know I can’t do that. I have no control over the department, and even if I did, we need to follow the law.”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “Why, because I’m a ghost? Because my words mean nothing because I’m not human? I’m telling you that I don’t want to press any charges, I don’t get why that’s not good enough!”

The room grew even colder.

“We’ve been over this. Please, Phantom, sit down—”

“No!” he snapped. “I’ve been telling you guys since the beginning that this was a bad idea, that people are going to get hurt! And no, nobody listened to me because I’m a fucking ghost! And now look, the building was attacked! My body was attacked! Do you—” his voice cracked, and the glow on his eyes wobbled. He drifted closer to her. “Do you even understand? Do you get how dangerous this is? Do you understand the people you guys have pissed off? Who you’re playing with now?”

Sarah took a deep breath. Even as a human, the power Phantom was emitting was palpable. “What people? You mean the ghost who attacked the morgue?”

“Not him. He—he’s just a lacky. Just following orders.” He let out a bitter laugh, running his hand over his forehead and smearing green across his skin. “You guys have no idea, you really don’t…”

Dread crept up Sarah’s spine. If what Mark was saying was true, then this could run deeper than they thought. “Explain it to me.”

“I’m…” He glanced up, looking ill. “I’m not…normal. For a ghost, I mean. I can’t explain it. I really can’t. But the other ghosts...they consider me a liability. And now that you guys have my—my body, they’re afraid.”

“Why are they afraid?”

“Because…” His brow furrowed. “I can’t—I can’t…”

She tilted her head, watching the ghost choke on his words. “Can’t, or won’t?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll stop at nothing till they get my body back. They’ll kill everyone in that building if it means nobody finds out my secret.”

What secret? Sarah wanted to scream, but she held back.

“Phantom,” Sarah lowered her tone. “Are they the reason you’ve been so afraid of us finding out the truth? Have they threatened you in any way?”

“No!” He backed up in shock. “I—I mean, sort of? Listen, it’s not because of him—them, I promise. It’s more complicated than that. He’s just protecting me, you know? If my secret gets out, that would put them all in danger, but it would put me in even more danger. I wouldn’t...I’d have to leave. I’d be on the run.”

“Why?”

“It’s so messed up.”

“Then tell me.”

She already knew. She just needed him to confirm it for her.

He looked to her, his bright green eyes seemingly desperate for help. But he shook his head. “I can’t do this.”

“Wait—”

But he was already gone.

---

“I’ve never seen him look so scared,” Abrams said.

“So you think he’s right.” Crowley took a long swig of his coffee, “Course you do.”

“It makes sense,” Abrams insisted. “Why else would Phantom be so terrified of people finding the truth?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know, maybe it’s because he’s a teen who was playing with electrical equipment he wasn’t supposed to be near and even in death doesn’t want to get in trouble for it!”

“Yes but how would that explain all the ectoplasm in his DNA? That doesn’t come from just any electric shock.”

“Who knows,” Crowley said. “The Fentons have always been crackpots. Always have had ludicrous theories. Now suddenly when it’s convenient, you’re all running to their side?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “We’re not running to their side.”

“Then what do you call this?” Crowley gestured to the duo. “Sure looks like it to me.”

“You have to admit that it makes sense,” Mark said. “I mean, get real. Doesn’t any of this smell fishy to you?”

Crowley slapped his empty coffee mug on the table. “You know what smells fishy to me? The Fentons are the only known ecto-scientists in this whole damn city, the only people who have lab-grade ecto-equipment in Amity Park, and suddenly right when they were getting into some financial trouble, Phantom appears out of nowhere from a death that reeks of forced ecto-contamination. That smells fishy to me.”

Mark paused, but then shook his head. “If that were true, then why would Dr. Fenton even offer human experimentation as a possibility?”

“To gloat? Gain our trust? Test our intelligence?” Crowley threw his hands up. “Who knows? They’re crazy!”

“So you think we need to investigate them?” Mark asked.

“I’d be a damn shit detective if I didn’t. They have the means and motive to create a ghost like Phantom. It’s just like Maddie said.”

“I think he’s right,” Abrams said, nibbling on her bagel. “If this is actually a case of ecto-experimentation, then the Fentons should be on the list of suspects.”

“Finally, some common sense around here. Just about the only case of common sense these days…” Crowley grumbled.

Mark chose to ignore that comment, instead checking his phone. No notifications, damn. The entire department had been on high alert for Phantom ever since the attack on the morgue. Mark was just relieved that the new and improved ecto-guns had finally been issued that morning. If not for the updated technology, that incident likely would have ended far less smoothly.

Not that it really ended smoothly. Phantom had yet again escaped Mark’s clutches, free to run off and break into Sarah’s home.

Guilt clawed at Mark’s stomach, but he pushed it back. Phantom was a slippery ghost, one that had escaped all levels of ghost hunters from the Fentons, to the Ghost Investigation Ward. Mark knew it would take a lot more than a few words of peace and one ecto-gun to stop that kind of raw power.

“What do we even know about the Fentons?” Abrams asked.

“They’re ghost hunters and mostly make weapons now, but before that they dabbled in all sorts of ecto-based technology. The husband, Jack, is the engineer and the wife, Maddie, is the biologist. They have two kids, Jasmine and Daniel. Jasmine, or ‘Jazz’ is supposedly top of her class, likely to graduate valedictorian, while Daniel’s something else. Bad grades, skips class, all around a bit of a loner,” Crowley said, regurgitating information like he was reading a case file.

Mark glanced at his colleague, giving him an impressed smirk. “Did your homework early, eh?”

“I told you, something aint right here,” Crowley said.

“And? What do you think?” Mark asked.

“What I think is that I’m shocked their house is even coded to have a lab inside. I’d like to know whose ass they kissed to give them that permit.”

Abrams snorted. “Jesus, Jacob.”

“What? I’m right!”

“Fine, whatever,” Mark stood, collecting his empty coffee cup and paper plate. “I godda head home, my sister’s visiting this weekend.”

“Alright, tell Susan I said hello. And say hi to her little demon child too.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “She’s four.”

“What, four year olds can’t be demons? I should know, I had two of them.”

Abrams swiped her empty wrapper and tossed it in the trash. “Yeah, I have to feed Atlas. I’ll see you both next week.”

“Take care!”

---

“Well at least we know Phantom didn’t change anything about his facial structure when he became a ghost.” Crowley’s small eyes swiveled between the photo of Phantom in one hand and the new sketch rendition of his human identity.

Mark grunted and stared at his own copy of the photo.

The corpse had been too decomposed to be able to distinguish a face, and ghosts often change their appearance in death. Sure, Phantom looked like a regular human, but it was impossible to know that for a fact.

Fortunately, modern research and re-composition was advanced enough that they didn’t have to wonder for long. Especially with this being such a high-profile case for the city.

And as it turned out, aside from the hair, Phantom really didn’t look all too different when he was alive. He had the same sharp nose, the same angular chin, the same boyish face. The only thing that was different was his hair and presumably his eye color, although that was still a mystery due to the corrupted DNA.

Even though there was little change to Phantom’s appearance, seeing the black haired, brown eyed human boy staring back at Mark was rather shocking, if he were being honest. There was something off putting about seeing this enigma quite literally brought back to life. It took away that edge of lore that the heroic town enigma had.

Now Phantom wasn’t some wild mystery. He was just...a kid.

“This really is something,” Crowley said. “Guess we should put it to good use.”

Mark sighed, turning his attention back to his desktop. Sifting through missing person’s reports was never exactly a fun way to start the morning.

“You think you can handle it, rookie?” Crowley asked.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting.”

Crowley let the photographs drop to his side. “Alright, I’m going to continue doing some digging on our suspects.”

“Good luck.”

“And you.”

The work was tedious and depressing. Face after face of missing minors flickered across his screen. It was almost too hard to believe that Phantom was a part of this list.

Caucasian. Black hair. Eye color unknown. Five foot five.

That was all they had on Phantom. For all they knew, he could have been from another city entirely.

But hopefully Mark would find a hit, at least one kid from Amity who fit the profile.

And in fact, there were a few...sort of. Four teens who had black hair and were about five foot five. But none of them looked quite like Phantom.

Which meant Mark had to widen his search.

How wonderful.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out wide. It was nearly lunchtime now and he felt like he’d gotten no further than where he was before. Mark stood from his chair, feeling a bit defeated. Hopefully Crowley would’ve had better luck on the suspect list than Mark.

He strolled over to Crowley’s desk, only to find the desk empty. Crowley had likely already left for lunch, the bastard hadn’t even bothered to grab Mark on the way.

Not that Mark could really blame him. He doubted Crowley wanted to use his lunch break to talk about the case after the tedious research they both had spent their mornings doing.

Mark dug his phone out of his pocket, intent on sending the older detective an update, when he stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, a familiar face stared up at him.

Mark slowly lowered the device and crept toward the desk, as if his mere presence would disintegrate the paper on his desk.

Inside Fentonworks: the Fenton family’s home-grown anti-ghost business!

It was an article printed from some online magazine that Mark didn’t recognize. Slapped on the cover of the page, just under the title, was a photo of a family of four beaming, waving at the camera. One of the members was a young boy—about Phantom’s age—with black hair in almost the same haircut as Phantom, with that crooked smile that Phantom had been caught adorning all too many times.

Waving at the camera.

Skinny, short for a boy, son to two ecto-science parents who fill their basement with dangerous high-voltage and easily combustible ecto-technology.

His name was listed as Daniel.

Mark glanced at the two images in his hand, and then looked at the article below him.

Holy shit.

No. There was no way. Crowley had been suspicious of them, and he had good reason to include them on his suspect list, but this kid was alive. He wasn’t missing, he wasn’t dead, he was standing right there.

It just wasn’t possible.

His apple watch pinged, alerting him of a ghost attack nearby.

Mark hurried back to his desk, swiping his coat off his chair.

This was impossible.

The police sketch and the copy of the article pressed against his fist.

Phantom was a ghost. Ghosts will do anything to protect themselves. They would lie, cheat, and manipulate humans in order to stay on top.

Mark was just seeing things.

There was no way that this was him.

He beelined for the door, tucking the papers into his pants pocket.

It wasn’t possible.

The drive there was short, and the fight even shorter. It had just been the Box Ghost, so nothing that Phantom couldn’t handle. The ghost gave his little song and dance, captured the ghost, and waved brightly to the crowd. But Mark could see right through it, right past all the cracks in his façade.

Phantom was losing it.

And Mark could end this.

“Phantom!” Mark called out through his cupped hands.

The ghost flinched, his cheery face replaced with a scowl instantly.

“Another time,” he said.

But Mark didn’t have another time. He needed to know now.

Because Phantom could end this insane proposition. He could laugh heartlessly at the mere mention that he was this random living child. He was Phantom, protector of Amity Park, not some human experiment.

Not some impossibility.

Not some kid who’s been dead for a year and only pretending to be human for his family.

Not the greatest act of manipulation from a ghost that Mark had ever seen.

Mark yanked the papers from his pocket and unfolded them with shaking fingers. He held them up hastily, knowing that they were too far away for normal human eyes.

But this was Phantom. He wasn’t human.

Mark saw the exact moment that Phantom recognized the photos. The ghost’s eyes widened, his face paled, his aura dimmed. Then, in the blink of an eye, the ghost vanished.

Mark was right.

---

The air was thick, tense. Phantom slumped in his armchair, his body the equivalent of a white flag. Even so, his eyes were bright, charged with nervous energy.

He was terrified.

Atlas must have sensed this, because the dog had decided to break away from being Sarah’s shadow to lay against the ghost’s feet.

“I don’t know where to start,” Phantom admitted after a few tense beats of silence.

“The beginning, maybe,” Jacob said.

Phantom looked sick at the suggestion, but relented. “You’re right. Yeah...I…” he glanced up at the two detectives and Sarah seated across the coffee table on her dull green couch. Phantom had appeared in her kitchen not even an hour ago, looking like he’d just seen the personification of death itself.

And instantly, Sarah knew.

She’d tried to coax him to let her bring him to the station so he could come clean there, but he refused. He said the information was too sensitive and he didn’t trust the station to not have cameras recording every angle of every room.

And so they settled on her living room instead. Mark and Jacob arrived, seeming none too surprised by the arrangement, and more than willing to follow Phantom’s direction if it meant they would finally get the truth.

Which Phantom didn’t seem remotely ready to give.

“I guess…” He tried again, closing his eyes. There was another tense moment of silence before a pair of white rings appeared around Phantom’s waist, traveling up his body and leaving behind a skinny black haired teenager.

Phantom cautiously opened his eyes. And, to Sarah’s surprise, they were blue.

“You’re Daniel Fenton,” Mark said.

She heard Jacob suck in a breath.

“Yes. I’m Danny Fenton.” Without the echo, his voice sounded much closer, much more down to earth than Phantom’s. “And a year ago, I was in an accident.”

His voice, like the rest of him, seemed softer without the powerful aura of Phantom behind it. If Sarah had passed him on the street, she wouldn’t have blinked twice. Gone was the cocky personality, the perfect posture, the floating white hair, the bright, determined expression. Gone was the jumpsuit, the logo, the strong voice that seemed like it could project for a mile, the banter, the confidence.

It was just a kid. A kid with baggy jeans, dirty shoes, and a plain shirt. He didn’t seem lithe, he looked weak. The green undertone to his skin was replaced with red, and his shoulders hunched in a way Sarah had never seen on Phantom before.

“What happened?” Mark asked.

“When my parents first completed their interdimensional ghost portal, it didn’t work. I decided to—it was my fault. I just decided to go in it. I don’t know why.” He looked up to the ceiling. “It was a stupid idea. The portal was plugged in, but there was a switch inside that wasn’t turned on, and I tripped over a wire and turned it on. From the inside.”

Sarah felt a pang in her chest. “That’s horrible.”

“Yeah. It was,” Phantom agreed. “And then I guess the portal stabilized the connection between Amity Park and the Ghost Zone, because ghosts started appearing in town. So I decided that if it was my fault that they were here, I was going to protect the town. And that’s what I’ve done.”

That’s his Obsession, Sarah realized. It’s protection.

“Why not come out with it?” Jacob asked. “Why bury your body? Why still try to pass as a human?”

Phantom’s head fell into his hands. “I didn’t know what else to do! It—I...you have to understand, my parents would never understand. They think all ghosts are evil. I couldn’t just come out and tell them what happened, they’d kill me!”

“So you decided it was safer to play human,” Jacob said.

“Yeah. I guess I did. Especially since...I sort of still am?” He lifted his head and stuck out his wrist. “I still have a pulse.”

No one moved.

“You’re shitting me,” Jacob guffawed.

“No, I’m being serious. The portal killed me, but then it brought me back to life. Except by then my body was already altered from the ecto-electricity, so the working theory is that I exist in this sort of limbo state between dead and alive. Hence why…” He transformed into Phantom and then back to Fenton. “Hence why I have two forms.”

“And the body,” Mark said. “The coroner report said it only weighed a little over half the weight of a normal body due to all the ectoplasm. But if you’re half alive, how would you have a body?”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know? To be honest, that day was such a nightmare that I’ve mostly blocked it out.”

Mark finally reached over and took the boy’s wrist. He pressed two fingers against the skin and waited.

“Damn.” His eyes widened. “It’s actually there.”

“No way,” Jacob said, leaning over to take Phantom’s wrist. A few seconds passed before he was joining Mark’s reaction. “It is there.”

“I know.” Phantom tucked his arm back to his chest. “I don’t understand it. I have a heart and also a ghost core. I can feel it all the time, even as a human. I have human thoughts and feelings and ghostly instincts playing constantly.”

As confusing and morbid as this was, it made sense in a sort of twisted way that Sarah only reserved for the rambling logic of her paranoid, senior grandmother. It explained why Phantom, a ghost, would willingly risk himself day in and day out over the safety of humans. Phantom was a ghost who was driven to protect his home, and he was also a human who wanted to look after those he loved.

He was truly Schrödinger’s cat. Dead and alive inside his little box, his little town, with no one able to measure him.

“That’s the thing that sets you apart from the ghosts,” Sarah said, tapping her knee with her finger. “That day when you came to my house saying that you were different, this is what you were talking about. You also said it would be dangerous if this information got out.”

The question was implied, and Phantom seemed to pick up on it, judging by his grimace.

“You weren’t talking about your parents.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“So then who is it? Who was trying to destroy the morgue? Who are you hiding from?”

Danny crossed his arms and glared at the floor. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said bitterly. “The government. GiW, all of them. Think of what they’d do if they knew someone could be both dead and alive at the same time.”

“Well fuck the lot of them,” Jacob said.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed.

“And the ghost who was trying to take down the morgue?” Mark pressed.

“I…” Danny’s eyes shifted. “I can’t say. It’s a ghost thing. All the ghosts in the Zone know about me, they call me a halfa. Half alive, half dead. Honestly, I don’t think it took much convincing for them to want to protect me.”

“But you were fighting against them,” Jacob countered. “If they were really trying to protect you, then why not go along with them?”

Danny opened and closed his mouth, the words seemingly stuck in his throat. Words from Maddie’s ecto-biology papers fluttered across Sarah’s eyes, about how ghosts were evil, they were liars, they’d say and do anything to keep themselves safe.

But as Danny let out a defeated sigh, his arms uncrossing to dangle at his side, Sarah couldn’t help but see the face of a scared teen who was just doing his best.

“It’s a ghost thing,” he finally said. “I didn’t like what they were doing because...because I needed to protect my body. If the building collapsed, it would have gotten damaged.”

Sarah blinked, and her and Mark exchanged a glance.

“I see,” Mark said carefully. “So if there was a plan to recover your...body...safely, you would have gone along with it?”

“I don’t know. Ghosts are weird, they all have their own agenda. I’d rather if it were just...left alone. In the ground. Untouched. Like it had been.”

They were silent for a moment, and Sarah watched as Jacob and Mark stared at each other in silent conversation. One that only partners could properly understand.

Finally, Jacob relented. “Okay, here’s the deal. Say I go talk with Chief Davis and he agrees to keep your identity secret. In exchange, all you’d have to do for us is tell your parents.”

For a moment, Sarah thought Phantom was going to bolt out of the armchair.

“Why?”

“Because you’re screwing around putting your life in danger every day, kid,” Jacob said. “Not to mention, your parents’ house is a walking minefield for you. You godda protect yourself.”

“I protect myself just fine.”

“Doesn’t dismiss the fact that you’re running off getting in fights every day with ghosts, and then coming home to a house littered with ecto-weapons that could kill you. You know, all the way.”

“My parents will kill me if they find out though,” Danny said darkly. “You don’t know them.”

“Which is why you won’t be alone. Crowley and I will be there with you. And I know a woman in CPS who can keep this on the down low too. We won’t let anything happen, promise,” Mark said.

Phantom glanced between them, his wide blue eyes betraying just how fearful he was. “You promise?”

“Yeah kid, we got your back.”

---

“It’s going way better than I thought,” Danny said, throwing the stick up the path.

Atlas didn’t hesitate, bounding after the object with an enthusiasm rivaled by no one.

“I’m glad,” Sarah said. “You deserve a safe place to go home to.”

Danny cocked his head. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Getting to know Danny these past few weeks was surreal. For a year now, Sarah had a set mental image of who Phantom was. The hero, the great protector, the thrill-seeker.

But now, as she got to know the quiet yet snarky kid who went to school and stressed over his math exams just like any other teen would, she’d gotten to appreciate the person that Danny truly was, the person he became when he wasn’t trying to hide his ghostly persona or playing the larger-than-life character.

Atlas pranced back, the stick held high like an Olympic medal.

“Good boy!” Danny praised.

At Sarah’s nonverbal command, Atlas dropped the stick in front of Danny, who was more than happy to pick it up and hurl ahead of the dirt path again.

“It’s weird. It’s almost like...I don’t know, it’s just kind of relieving? To not need to hide? Like don’t get me wrong, my parents are still kinda weird about it. I still don’t really use any of my powers at home because I just don’t think I’m ready. But the other day I used intangibility to get a cup out of the cabinet instead of just opening the cabinet door, and my mom didn’t even say anything. I remember back when I first got my powers and I couldn't figure out how to work them. I spent so long trying to hide any weirdness, and to think that now I can just do stuff and nobody cares.” A blissful smile dressed Danny’s lips. “It’s just nice, is all.”

“I bet,” Sarah said. “Must be a huge weight off your shoulders. And your sister’s okay with it?”

“Oh yeah. My sister actually already knew about it.”

“You’re kidding. Really?”

Danny threw the stick again. “Yeah, but I already knew about that. She told me a few months ago. But she’s been really helpful at home with trying to get everyone on the same page.”

“That’s good.”

“And my dad’s already been begging to take me out to the field with him.”

“Have you taken him up on it?”

“No. Not yet.”

Sarah peered cautiously over to him. “Why not?”

“I dunno.” Danny’s eyes tracked Atlas’ triumphant return from the woods. “It just seems a bit weird still. And besides, it would be kinda odd if my parents went from trying to kill me to suddenly Phantom’s new best friend overnight. For now they’ve agreed to a public truce.”

Ah yes, the truce. That had been all over the news when the Fenton’s announced it, citing new research into ghost psychology that showed instances of benevolent ghosts. The news had rocked the city, some calling the duo crazy, while others praising them for their growth.

Even though Phantom and the Fenton couple were still in the growing pains of their new truce, no one could deny how much more smoothly ghost fights had gotten since it began. There was less property damage, less citizen’s hurt, and overall the process seemed far more professional than it ever had.

“I’ve noticed a change,” Sarah said. “I really think it’s for the best.”

“So do I. Even though it’s still kinda weird.”

“It’ll get easier, just give it time.”

Atlas dropped the stick, apparently distracted by some scent on a bush. He stopped to sniff the plant before wandering behind it, his nose glued to the ground.

“Wait, Atlas—” Danny started, watching as Atlas disappeared into the foliage.

Hearing his name, the dog leapt back onto the trail and over to Danny, who paused to scratch him behind his ear. “Good boy.”

Sarah grinned down at the duo.

Who knew a cadaver dog and a half dead kid could make such a good pair?

---

Thanks for reading!

#danny phantom #my writing #morge #invisobang #invisobang 2021

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goldenchan-fx2thepeacock · 3 years

Text

Don’t Go Running Off Into Danger, Even If I Do pt 2

So, I have no clue what a publishing schedule is. So here, have more of this dumb fic at 11 pm. FUCK SLEEP! SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK!

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Chapter 2

Danny and Jazz managed to finish just in time to put everything away before their parents got home. He’d actually managed to have a ghost free night. But the peace wasn’t going to last. And this wasn’t about ghosts. He got slammed into his locker. “Hey look, it’s Fenturd. What’s with the dumb picture of Phantom? You’ll never be on his level,” Dash said and laughter broke out. Danny groaned. At least they didn’t know he was trans. He’d be beaten twice as much if they knew. The locker door closed and locked. “Seriously Dash? I have to get to class!” He yelled through the metal. “Whatever Fentina. No one cares! Oh hey, it’s fresh meat!” Dash went away from Danny’s locker. Danny had found out a way to make it so he could open his locker from the inside without it being outerwardly compromised. He jumped out. It was those kids from last night. “Leave them alone Dash. They haven’t even been here for a day yet. The rules are that newbies get a probation period,” Danny crossed his arms. “I don’t know Fentoenail. Would you like to take their beating?” Dash mocked him. Danny sighed. He’d have to do this. “Any day,”

Danny regretted everything. Dash had hit him twice as hard as normal and his locker trick wasn’t working. Everything hurt. He was going to miss Lancer’s class. At least his ghost sense wasn’t going off or something. Lancer wouldn’t miss him. Suddenly, his locker opened and he tumbled out. He yelped. “Are you okay?” The girl twin said. “No worse than what I’m used to,” Danny brushed himself off. “You didn’t have to do that,” The boy twin told Danny. “Yeah, I kinda did. The probation period is sacred. Dash knows that,” “Probation period?” The boy said. “A rule we made up last year. If Dash really wants to break it, I take the beating instead. Fenton gets to take the beating so the new kids don’t have to,” “That’s not fair. You should report him,” “Nah, he threw like four perfect throws last night and is exempt from punishment,” “Football?” The boy gave Danny a knowing look. “Danielle- I mean Daniel Fenton to the main office,” The loud speaker said. “Oh come on! At least it was probably just a misread,” Danny was fuming. The beating plus being deadnamed was getting on his nerves. “We have to head there too,” The girl said. Danny shrugged and let them follow him.

Lancer called them all in at once. “Sup Lancer. Can I help you?” Danny leaned against the wall. “Mr Fenton. You and I both know that you need to show me more respect. W-what happened to you?” Lancer looked up from his papers. “Just a certain football star. Nothing I can’t handle. He broke the probation period,” “That’s a rule between students. I have no need to enforce it,” Lancer sighed. “I have no clue why you of all people were chosen for this, but you are too be Mr and Ms Pines guide around the school,” “Jazz not good enough for you? Had to pick the ‘slacker’ Fenton?” “Daniel, mind your tone. Jazz is our top student,” “We all know I’m destined to fail in life. Can I get their timetables?” “Yes of course. Listen Danny, both you and I know you’re capable of better grades. I don’t understand why you don’t try,” Danny wasn’t in the mood for Lancer’s pep talks. “I’ve got more important things to worry about,” Danny grabbed the papers and stalked off with the Pines Twins on his heels. “Why didn’t he do anything about Dash?” the boy asked. “He has no reason to. Not like I’m about to ask,” Danny handed them their timetables. He’d seen that the girl was named Mabel and the boy Mason. “We’ll start with your classes Mason,” “I prefer Dipper,” “I’m not calling you by a dumb nickname. Let’s go,” Danny growled.

Just as he was about to lead Mason to his first class, a royal pain in his ass showed up. “Daniel! I require your assistance, little badger,” “It’s bound to be another plan to get in my mom’s pants. Go away,” “Now, don’t be like that. I’m the mayor after all. You should be honored,” “Plasmius, shut your goddamn mouth. I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck,” Danny said so that only Vlad could hear. “Well, something’s got you in a tizzy. I’ll ask later. I should tell you though, it’s about Danielle,” “What did you do to Dani?” Fury. Wait, he had to get the kids to class. “Nothing. It wasn’t me. You should ask your ghost hunter girlfriend,” Vlad grinned. Fucking Valerie. “Come on kids. You’ve got to get to class,” Danny ignored Plasmius. Valerie was going to die.

At lunch, he purposefully turned into Phantom and waited for Valerie on top of the school. She took no time at all. “What. Did. You. Do. To. Dani,” He glared at her. “I didn’t do anything to her! You’re going down ghost!” “Am I really?” Danny was pissed. She wasn’t getting any mercy today. He teleported behind her. “What the... HOW?” “Where is she?!” He growled. “What do you care? She’s always off on her own,” “Does it look like I care Valerie?!” “How did you know?!” “I know more than you seem to think. Tell me where Dani is. NOW!” He froze her feet. She looked terrified. “What’s wrong with you!? Why do you care so much about her? Ghosts don’t have feelings,” Danny lost it at that point. The laughter was dark. Hollow. Horrible. Val’s terror was visible. “Don’t have feelings? DON’T HAVE FEELINGS? FUCK YOU! I’M SO TIRED OF ALL THIS!” “Phantom, calm down,” Val was terrified. Danny wasn’t done. The rings were threatening to come down and expose him to her. “So you admit this is real? Would you like to know how it feels to die Val? How it feels to live on the line between life and death? Wait, I can’t do that! You don’t have a deactivated portal in your basement that I can make you turn on while your inside. I don’t have a stupid jumpsuit with your dad’s face on it so I can take off the that sticker. You don’t have parents that threaten to rip you apart molecule by molecule for just exsisting! You don’t have to see a future where you become evil because you cheated on one test and your family all died! Can you even begin to comprehend what I go through? Ever been cloned? And forced to do something incredibly painful so that one clone can get fixed and watch another get lied too? And that’s just the brunt of it Valerie. Keep telling me how I don’t feel. How I’m nothing!” Danny screamed at ice engulfed their feet. Val’s eyes went wide. “D-Danny?” She said quietly. “Congratulations! You aren’t as niave as the rest of Amity Park! How does it feel?” He’d snapped. “Calm down! I’ll tell you where Dani is!” She shrieked. That hollow laugh came back. But instead of an angry rant afterwards, he just sunk to his knees and screamed. It wasn’t a wail. It was a scream of pain. Of being done with the world. “I can’t do this anymore,” He sobbed and the rings went down. All that was left now was a beaten, broken Danny Fenton. “You should change back. I’ll take you to Dani,” Danny nodded and followed her. “Sorry I broke down. I’m just sick of people telling me that I can’t feel. That all ghosts can’t feel. You don’t even bother talking to us, ya know?” “Ghosts lie,” “And so do people! I’ve talked to the ghosts. Listened to them. Heard their stories. I protect people, but I protect them too!” “How do you know those aren’t just acts?” “Cause they make sense. I’d have the same response if it was me. If my parents burned down the place I was in because I got caught being gay,” “I’m confused,” “Ember. I told her I wouldn’t tell anyone. But you need to know that they all have reasons for being the way they are. Skulker’s family was hunted, so now he hunts to prove his strength,” “Maybe we should talk to you more,” “Maybe you should. No one asks to die,” “But your parents say that ghosts don’t remember their lives. They’re the leading experts,” “That’s like putting a ten year old in a room of babies. They’re the expert by default in that situation, but an adult would be the expert the moment they walked in,” “Why don’t we know about that,” “Dying is traumatizing. Even half dying is traumatizing. It’s taboo to mention it unless you’re told. No one explains it until they’re ready. And talking about a life before that is almost wrong,” “How did you learn?” “Skulker told me during the Christmas Truce. Ember told me one day when she just wanted to be left alone, but I did too. I guess things end up working out in weird ways,” “The Christmas Truce?” “On Christmas Eve and Christmas, ghosts have a truce. No one is allowed to fight anyone that day. The Ghost Writer broke the truce and Walker got to haul him off in just means,” “We really know nothing about ghosts, do we?” “No, you don’t. They even have a party. I got invited last year. Skulker let me make the star! It took me weeks to get it right,” Danny smiled at the memory. He’d made a scale model of a blue giant that went through it’s life stages. “So there’s a whole society?” “A government. Systems. Main rules. Taboos. Just cause we’re ghosts, doesn’t mean we don’t have a system,” “I’m sorry,” “What?” Danny nearly froze. “I’m sorry that I made so many assumptions. I never should’ve chased you or any ghost like that,” “Keep them out of Amity Park and send them back to the Zone. Most ghosts forget that living is dangerous, so they just rampage. I keep trying to talk sense into them, but they’re pretty stubborn,” “What about the dog?” “Dog? You mean Cujo? I was trying to stop him from trashing Axiom. He was trying to get a toy. I’m sorry that recked your life Val,” “My life? Wrecked? When compared to you, my life is a dream. It’s not like I died,” “I guess you’ve got a point,”

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Thanks for reading. I just like fics where Val finds out, and this one seemed like an okay place to stick it. Dani is fine. I’ll fill you in on that next chapter, but I should get some sleep.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #trans!danny #trans!dipper #danielle (dani) phantom #valerie gray #mr lancer #red huntress #cujo #skulker #ember #ghost writer #christmas truce #gravity falls #dipper pines #mabel pines #I know Dipper's real name because I learned about the series through journal three #ocs

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datawyrms · 4 years

Text

A Victory

Dannymay 2020 13: Regret With the fifth crackling whine of the ghost shield repelling an attacker, the half-ghost finally admitted he was not going to get any sleep without dealing with the determined intruder. He had hoped the ghost would have gotten bored by now, but a glimpse out of the window confirmed the circling specter was just looking to make yet another attempt.

He rubbed at his temples, letting out a long sigh. Three nights of this, as if the first had not been enough. The ghost’s near feral dedication in trying to get past something they knew couldn’t be breached made a hint of guilt scrabble at his spine. Perhaps they were so angry they’d forgotten that fact.

He stepped out into the cold night air, waiting for the ghost to notice he was no longer in the building. The shrieking electrical howl of the shield thirty seconds later confirmed he had the furious spirit’s attention. He frowned at it as it panted in mid air, eyes furiously fixed on him.

“Daniel. You need to stop this. All you are doing is being an annoyance.” Vlad’s frown deepened as the ghost simply snarled at him. Surely he couldn’t have degraded that badly, even from a severe emotional shock. “Get a hold of yourself! What do you mean to accomplish with this?”

Green eyes flared with a hatred he had not seen in years. The snarling made more sense as the ghost opened its mouth, ectoplasm running down it’s face, teeth a foul shade of green. “You’ll. Regret this.” it spat, raspy and weak.

It was hard to keep down a grimace. “You are the one who’s damaged yourself with mindless wailing. Go home.”

The gurgling sputtering wheeze of a laugh would likely make a lesser man vomit. “Where’s that?”

He could not actually tell if the white haired ghost was joking or not. Playing dumb was certainly the teenager’s natural state, but slamming yourself into an electrified brick wall could have taken him to Jack levels of dimness. “You know where you live, you’ve watched too many horror movies.”

Danny cocked his head at an unsettling angle, scowl returning. “Don’t live anywhere.” He paused to slam a gloved hand into the ghost shield, ignoring the shriek until the stench of burning ectoplasm forced him backwards. “Your fault.”

“You decided to get in the way. Not that it did you any good, you foolish boy.” he scowled back at the petulant ghost, trying to ignore the pang of regret that moment had caused. Danny had been human at the time, he shouldn’t have had the energy or time to block the lethal blow meant for Jack. Yet the insufferable boy managed it.

The ghost preferred to growl in answer this time, not interested in hearing the truth.

“Your idiot father didn’t even die. Just go away Daniel. Seeing you like this is pathetic.”

That prompted another slam, fury almost audible in the savagery of the hit. The ghost skidded across the grass when thrown back this time, laying in an angry leaking lump for several minutes before managing to get up again.

So much for possibly getting him to be sensible. Death had only made the boy more emotional instead of less. Not caring that it was the middle of the night, he dialed a number.

The voice that answered was hoarse and filled with vitriol. “What do you want.”

“Jazz, if you could be so kind to keep your brother from splattering himself all over my lawn, it would be appreciated.”

“There’s no point. He’ll just go back.” The hatred was still there, but there was a heavy pain too.

“I wouldn’t expect you of all people to give up on him so quickly. Surely you can redirect him to coming home.” Vlad fiddled with a sleeve, one eye on what used to be the only other half ghost around.

“Dad didn’t make it.” her voice hitched, trying desperately not to let this murderer hear her cry. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.” She hung up quickly, leaving him to wrestle with the emotions that news caused. His gambit had worked, Jack may have survived the attack, but apparently it had been a temporary reprieve.

He’d won, and accomplished his long standing goal despite Daniel’s meddling. There should be pride, some joy, anything but this emptiness.

Jack was dead, and what did he have? Daniel, a full ghost who had learned his final sacrifice had been meaningless, driven into a near feral quest for vengeance. The love of his life aware of what Daniel had been, considering how his ghost crawled out of his corpse. Likely Jazz would tell her exactly who had killed both of them, now that Daniel’s secret was meaningless.

For an absolute victory, it certainly tasted like regret.

(edit: one should totally check the art here by cardcaptorkatara)

#dannymay2020 #Danny Phantom #vlad plasmius #my stuff #its regret of course its angst #do i need to warn for death #cus yes it is mentioned #last afternoon me was 'oh ok vlad regrets and maybe repents'#6am me went DEATH #6am me won as it was 6am

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monsterheartshq · 4 years

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THE GHOST.

“ tormented, insecure, intuitive, fickle. the ghost is all about channeling past trauma, seeing people’s true selves, and having spooky powers. ”

biography.

name. letty hollister age. twenty one occupation. waitress at abigail’s diner sexuality. demisexual, demiromantic gender. cisfemale faceclaim. danielle campbell monster. ghost

origin.

she was born colette elizabeth vogel to two middle-class german-american parents on july 6th, 1933 in camden, maine. she grew up in a quaint suburb, ate family dinners at six sharp, listened to war reports on the radio, was the type of girl who was always gifted an extra soda or an extra candy bar by adults. boys chased her from the age of fourteen but the one she ended up with was a boy she used to chase, a childhood friend born two years before her. they were really, truly, happy for a few years, for a little while. one december, on the way home from an office party, another car struck hers. she’d been twenty-one.

but that was all over now. that had been her life, and all she had before her was an afterlife. it wasn’t much for a long time, little more than despair given form, drowning in anger and confusion and longing for what she saw in her memories. thankfully, there were other ghosts out there to guide her out of her worst fate, and she made her way back to reality and society. she learned she could sense others’ emotions, could gather strength from the negative ones. she learned how to use her energy to communicate with the living and got quite good at it, haunting her family and hometown long enough to fear too much attention. one day, jostling through a box of mementos from her human life stored in the attic, she touched her favorite string of pearls and suddenly felt more solid than she had since she died. she was gaunt and uncanny even to herself, but it was so much like being a human that she decided to stay that way for as long as she could.

with her mementos anchoring her to the living and her innate empathy helping her partially overcome the overall unease she gave off enough to have distant acquaintances, she lived amongst humans for decades. sometimes, however, one painful flashback would be too much for or she would get too caught up in who and why and she’d be plummeted into timeless despair once more, only guided back to the present by other spirits or great displays of emotion. it’s best for her to keep going through the motions; stick around for as long as you can and keep your head down. help humans when you can, avoid trouble when you can’t, and don’t think about things you’re better off not thinking about. it gets easier all the while, but sometimes it just hits you and you’re plunged into complete sorrow all over again.

currently, she goes by letty hollister and is in her third year at byrne university after first coming to cinderbrush as a supposed freshman majoring in psychology. normally, she would’ve avoided a town like cinderbrush like the plague, with its haunted waters and haunted forest and haunted lake, but whatever drew so many tormented spirits to cinderbrush drew her, too. she didn’t completely understand how, but it made her stronger, closer to humanity than ever. between cinderbrush and her trinkets, being almost human was as easy as a ghost could ever hope. if only she wasn’t so obviously inhuman beneath her girlish features, with skin that got paler, hair that got lanker, and eye circles that got darker with each passing day between feedings. those that were sensitive to the supernatural often were able to guise what she had looked like upon her death–blood blooming on her chest, face cut up, lips deathly blue–which meant that nearly all animals avoided her, several people as well, and even an untrained eye could sometimes catch how letty never seemed to breathe or never looked any different one day to the next. it certainly didn’t hurt that she knew herself to be about sixty years older than the students around her and never went much out of her way to behave any differently. what was the point? she would have to leave in a few years anyways and it seemed awfully dishonest to lie to others anymore than her body already did.

letty longed for some kind of emotional anchor to the living nonetheless, and tried to make up for it by being overtly helpful, always swooping in to solve someone’s problem, offering a shoulder to cry on, uncannily hospitable but altogether still very distant. she was surprised to find anything of the sort in cinderbrush. she’d found and revealed herself to the gorgon, who needed letty just as much as letty needed them. then there was the ghoul, figuring out their place in the afterlife much like letty had, but different somehow, held here by something other than trauma and rage. they might need her. and if she was needed, she wouldn’t go anywhere.

look.

unnerving eyes. dubious smile. classic red lip. old hollywood waves. dark hair, white face. a perfume that doesn’t exist anymore. a dress just like one your grandma wore in a picture you have. a record player skipping. cool to the touch. encyclopedic knowledge. feeling helpful. being helpless. out of place, out of time. eerie. yearning. unchanging. faded. repressed. empty. lights flickering. glass shattering. doors slamming. barely-there fingerprints. a mixture of snow and rain. a woman’s wail on the wind.

moves.

unresolved trauma. you project the blame and trauma of your death onto your current situation.

creep. when you secretly witness someone in their most intimate moments, perhaps showering or sleeping, you learn a secret about them. the mun chooses how big of a secret it is that you learn about their character.

hungry ghost. you find sustenance in sadness. others feel compelled to dump their emotional problems on you,

social circle.

the disciple: there is something off about the disciple. they have a smile on their face that just doesn’t reach their eyes, and it seems like no one has noticed it yet. that is, no one except the ghost. the ghost doesn’t trust them. they spend enough time observing people around them to know when someone is up to something, and the disciple is definitely up to someone. so the ghost has made a point to watch them. and most often they happens at night, when the disciple is alone in their room, sleeping. at their most vulnerable. but the ghost knows something is up, and they’re going to figure out what it is... and then figure out how to warn someone.

the ghoul: being a ghost is… strange. time doesn’t move the same way as it did when you’re alive. it happens all at once, and you’re just… stuck. witnessing it all move around you. and sometimes you can control where you go, sometimes you can’t. but moments of intense emotion, you get pulled there. that’s what happened when the ghoul died. the ghost was taken there, and witnessed the entire thing. they also witness the ghoul being resurrected. the ghost is unsure how to approach the situation. they’re not sure how memory works for the ghoul, and if they have any memories of before now. but the ghost feels compelled to share what they know about the ghoul. about how they died. they just aren’t sure how the ghoul will take it, which is what has stopped them from saying anything thus far.

the gorgon: there is comfort the gorgon gets from being around the ghost. you see, the ghost is already dead, so nothing the gorgon does to them could damage them further. talking with the ghost its freeing, and one of the only times the gorgon doesn’t have to shield their gaze. they can laugh and sing and find that human connection they so desperately crave. and what does the ghost get out of all of this? they get a friend. someone who will treat them as if everything is normal. thats what they give each other. a sense of normalcy.

this character skin is TAKEN

#the ghost #taken

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ghostly-doctor · 5 years

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Unique Name / Phantom Menace

Name: Dr. Isaac Daniels

Age: 25

Height: 6’1”

Birthplace: Saint Croix, U.S. Virgin Islands

Birthdate: April 13, 1994

Alias/Nickname: Phantom Menace

Sexuality: Straight

Likes: Music, Art, books, Astronomy, and dive bars.

Hobbies: Writing stories about the unknown, driving, singing and researching a cure for Uniques.

Dislikes: Any type of seafood due to an allergy he had gotten when he was in middle school. The allergy is so severe that it could kill him if he invested any type of seafood.

History: Issac was born to a long line of great doctors, trailing back to the 1920’s and it was ideal for him to become a doctor but he had taken a sharp interest in writing. Becoming so good that some of the greatest writers even called him the modern Eresnst Hemingway. After graduating from high school, his mother began to suffer from Alzheimer’s and it gradually got worse in a short amount of time. His father tried to help in every way he could but he soon became overworked and sleep deprived. Issac saw this which was coupled with his mother’s recent disease and switched majors to become a doctor. Locking himself in the study of his family's home the summer between his sophomore and junior year, he gained the knowledge of all the doctors in his family which gave him an advantage. His father soon gave up when Issac earned his doctorate at 23 and where his father gave up, Issac stepped in. He worked everyday, his personal and material goals left him and he was close to finding a cure. Though.. It was too late. His mother's mind has left her and she soon died which left Issac with no purpose anymore. A year had passed and he soon began to work again, locally at a hospital as the resident doctor in Saint Croix. Until one night, a call came in from New York about a hospital that had been taking in patients that special abilities which was what Issac wrote his dissertation on. The dissertation was only a theory that humankind could evolve once more in the form of powers but seeing his work come to life was an opportunity of a lifetime. Moving to New York and getting the hospital, he began to research the patients and see some of these abilities in action. The government began to fund these projects to make the patients weapons to be used in wars but Issac had fallen in love with one of them. When D-Day came and it was time to ship off the battle ready patients, Issac attempted to take away the one he had fallen in love with but his plan failed due to circumstances revolving her hiding her abilities. Leaving Issac alone in life once again. During this time, an ill-intended militia found out about the hospital and raided it to sell the patients on the black market. The government attempted to hold them off but were unsuccessful as they entered deeper into the facility, then opening fire on the doctors. Issac was shot twice in the arm but managed to get out of the building and to the seaport that was connected to the hospital. Two men found him and prepared to open fire as he looked out on the setting sun as the men shot and killed Issac. A few moments later, Issac got up fully healed and threw two green balls of ectoplasm at the men, knocking them out. He did not really remember what happened but had a rough idea. It was then that he realized that he was what the doctors and news called the patients, a Unique. That was his 25th birthday. A few months later, he began to train while still being a doctor but at a normal hospital.

Description: Issac has gained abandonment issues and a very clear depression that is easily sunken into when things happen in his life. His usual masks are throwing himself into his work or the quips he makes. When the world becomes too much, he shuts down quite often. Not speaking and brooding and sometimes even just disappearing. His mother is a very sensitive topic of discussion and is hard for him to even begin to talk about. He believes that love is a laserquest and that true love is a myth. It is a perfect dichotomy. In some ways, Issac has been called the most human of humans because of how careful he is as a doctor. But then he can sink through the floor and hurl balls of ectoplasm at people and it is hard to not think of him as something more.

Love Interests:

Daphne Smoke

His first girlfriend and a brief one. They met in college and it seemed like they were going to get married until Issac threw himself into researching a cure for Alzheimer’s. She couldn’t handle it and left him short after.

Jasmine Maroon

The pair met at a dive bar in Saint Croix and struck up a conversation. It turned out to be a one night stand and that one night stand turned into a few more nights and soon enough, they were dating. It ended abruptly when she vanished one day.

Katherine Diamond

This one was a mistake for Issac. They met when he first came to New York since she was his neighbor and the duo began to date. She would randomly stand him up on dates and every time he tried to get out of the relationship, she would seduce him and get him to stay. They no longer date but she ossacionsally comes to his place for some… R&R. She is the most recurring of the four and the one that causes him the most depression because at one point, he did love her.

Quinn Monday

She was the Unique that Issac was overseeing and over time, they fell in love with each other. He brought her gifts and things from the outside world like a record player and a few vinyls. Kept her updated on TV shows and even somehow got her outside when it snowed. The government took her away to be used for Black Ops for her ability to turn invisible and he hasn’t seen her since.

Family Relationships:

Jeffrey Daniels

His father was a caring man and although he was richer than God, he didn’t act like it nor did he dress like it. He was approachable and did a lot of charity work. Though, as most men do, he had a dark side to him. Locked away in the basement of the house was body parts and whole bodies of Uniques that he was studying for the United States. When Issac was 5, Jeffery developed a serum that could grant people powers but kept it hidden away from the U.S and injected the serum into his son, making him a dormant Unique. When his wife became ill, he stopped his research on Uniques to focus on her condition. He is currently 78.

Rebecca Michael-Daniels

The loving mother of Issac and wife of Jeffrey. She was beautiful and so kind, Jeffrey even described her as a “beautiful angel that had slithered from Eden.” She was the CEO of Gram Industries which was a global marketing firm. He spent a lot of time with his mother and didn’t take her death very well. She was 75 when she died.

Unique Power:

Ectoplasm Manipulation

After his unofficial death, Issac’s spirit rejected the offer to enter Heaven due to him believing that he was not done with what he had to do on Earth. This inturn made him a Unique. Literally, he has one foot in the grave and one foot out but more specifically, he can use what he calls the, “Ghost’s Arena” to fuel his abilities. He has shown to be able to harness ectoplasm into harmful blasts that harm both humans and spirits.

Developed Powers:

Ghost Walk

He has shown the ability to walk through almost any surface and even have body parts go through surfaces. It has become his signature technique and is used quite often. In the beginning, he would have to concentrate in order to do it and has gotten stuck a few times but now, he is able to do it without even thinking about it. The only surfaces he cannot go through is surfaces that have been blessed like Churches and homes of devout Christians.

Ghostly Possession

This power was activated accidentally when he was… intimate with Katherine a few weeks after becoming a Unique. He can body jump into another person and take them over, forcing their subconscious down. The limit so far has been 5 minutes per body and 3 bodies before he becomes too exhausted. The further capabilities of this power is unknown because Issac doesn’t like to use it. He claims that it freaks him out when he does it.

Wailing Medium

Since he has one foot in, one foot out, he has the uncanny ability to speak with spirits. He ignores them but has often been overloaded by the multiple spirits. It does come with an interesting ability. He can bring spirits into the land of the living and bring people into the land of the dead which makes him a medium.

Brainstorm

His body has gained an early warning system but it is not consistent. What happens is that his head slowly starts to hurt when the danger is close and it turns into a full migraine when the danger is attacking. Though, he has had migraines when danger wasn’t there but a few days away and sometimes when danger had already hurt him. This leads him to believe that it might be precognitive but this has yet to be explored.

Trivia:

He sings very well.

Knows how to play the guitar and piano.

Whenever he is not being a doctor, he is often found writing.

He has written and published exactly 5 books. Most of which are Sci-Fi.

His favorite tv shows are Breaking Bad, Twilight Zone and Glee.

His favorite movie is Drive.

He has a strange addiction to 90’s movies.

Does smoke cigarettes occasionally.

His parents were originally going to name him Jack Daniels but settled for Issac because they realized that naming a child after a whiskey was… “tacky”.

He drinks often. Maybe too often.

He’s a sweetheart and a weakness for women with short hair.

His favorite decade is the 2000’s.

FC: Ian Somerhandler

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shinobicyrus · 6 years

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“Familiar Face”

My submission for Phanniemay Day 8: Clones. Surprising myself, instead of Danielle I decided to write a short with my oc Samuel, loosely inspired by kikaiz’s Reverse Trio AU.

Those first fleeting moments of consciousness as she was spilled out on a cold floor felt less like being born and more like falling into a drugged sleep. A brief moment of lucidity for a life more felt than half-remembered. Crowded halls lined with locker banks, homework, tests, the pressure to fit in and failing, hormones and a quiet heartache. A boy with glasses, a NASA cap, and a goofy-shy smile like a-

She grasped for it and failed, floating through the lab in a fog of numb unreality. Sterile walls, chemical smells in her nose and soakinghher hair, too-bright light blurring away details in a wash of intense white. White walls. White floors. The thin white rubber mat that was her bed. The white leotard that left the pale, white skin of her arms and legs bared and accessible for masked figures in white surgical garb.

Strapped to an examination table. To a chair that reminded her of the dentist (what does it mean if you dream about going to the dentist? Jaz...someone she knew dabbled in those stupid dream interpretation books)

The inquiries of metal. Little prods and cuts. Needles slipping in and watching her own blood fill a glass syringe; sometimes ruby red, other times viscous and glowing witchlight green.

The tests hurt. She knew that intellectually, but not in that bone-deep, animal panic way. She was numb to it but still hoped it would clear the fog and wake her, but they didn't dig deep enough. She suspected in some back corner of her brain that it had something to do with the things they kept injecting into her, burning numbness through her veins and ink biting into her wrist. The side of her head (shaved recently, but she can’t remember when). Two blocky, jet black digits etched to partner with the crisscrossing red lines on the white canvas of her limbs.

Mom always said she’d kill me if I got a tatto-

She never felt tired but slept when they told her to- a hope somewhere at the bottom of this well of drugged haze that if she did, she would finally wake up in a home she’d nearly forgotten, back in her room, going downstairs to a cooked breakfast and leaving the dream of the lab on her pillow to dissolve like a broken cobweb.

Sleeping in too late. They were waiting for her. The one with dark dreadlocks and the other with a smile that lit up when he saw the stars.

Danny?

“Sir, I’m reading unusual theta-wave fluctuations.”

“Adjust the dosage.”

They made their voices clear through the fog with punctuation of scalpel and shocks. She obeyed because the metal was the only time things felt real.

“Float one meter above the deck. Now, point-five more.”

“Phase your hand through this wall- hold it there. Push it further in.”

“Hold your invisibility and remain perfectly still during the scan.”

“Fire at those targets. Good. Control: increase their speed by thirty percent. I want faster acquisition.”

They were testing her limits. Training her for something. Like in the basement of her mom and dad’s labr-

“Transform.”

“I said do it, Four. Comply.”

I’m...going...ghostly?

(Tucker’s laugh. Maybe we should work on that, Sam.)

Tucker?

“Up the dosage. Twenty milligrams. Just do it.”

Tucker?

A few times she caught sight of a boy she didn’t know in the polished metal of an instrument tray, or in the glass of a window. Young. Short haired. A backwards number four inked into the side of his head. The face floated, ghostlike and unseen, between two men watching her in the window. One in a pristine white white white always white I’m drowning in white suit and dark sunglasses with another man in green fatigues and a chest crowded with ribbons.

“My God, I have a son that age.”

“Respectfully Colonel, you don’t. Four was decanted less than four months ago. Don’t let it fool you into thinking it’s human.”

“But the briefing said it’s...a hybrid? Half ectoplasm and half human DNA?”

“Humans share seventy percent of their genes with slugs. Mathematically, the menu at a French restaurant is more human than that thing.”

(”Not human, not ghost...” Spectra crooned.)

“Uncle Sam isn’t paying you a hundred million dollars for escargot, Director.”

“No he is not, Colonel. Control: release the specimens.”

A section of the plain white wall slides open and a pack of three creatures float out, swimming in empty air and bombing with swishing tendrils and demented smiles. A lesson enforced at the end of a needle: Class One Malefactors “Oh come on Sam, ectopusses is the perfect name for th-”, circling around the room with the aimlessness of animals set loose in a space larger than they’d been held in.

The intercom crackles. “Four: You are cleared to engage.”

The fight felt so familiar, a moment of lucidity in the violence cutting through the perpetual fog. She flew towards one faster than it expected and punched it hard into the wall, another roared a challenge and charged at her. Instead of dodging she willed herself intangible and let it fly through her, going solid just as it passed so she can grab a bundle of its tentacles, swing it around, and slam it into the third.

They crashed in a confused tangle of babbling shrieks and too-many limbs. She raised a hand a fired a bolt of raw power- splattering the pair into a steaming mess of green goo over the white walls. The first she’d hit launches off the wall towards her, and her intangible feet slipped down through the floor, still leaving of her top-half solid enough to grab the ectopuss Malefactor and slam it on the floor once, twice, and the third time bursting it into a steaming mess.

The streaks of green ruining the sterile white is satisfying in a way she could not articulate. She thought it was the first time she remembers smiling ever in a long time.

“Well I’ll be damned. That’s one scrappy little slug.”

The intercom again. “Release Subject Two.”

A new section of wall opens behind her. This time with the suggestion of something wrapped in glowing blue chains and a white tarp. A buzzing, electronic click powers down the chains, and the medical tarp reserved for cadavers was shredded by a glowing green skeleton, everything below the ribs missing, save for a pair of upsettingly familiar eyes crammed into two sockets.

“Two. Four. You are cleared to engage.”

They both look at the spot on the wall where the voice came from, then each other. The skeleton moves first, faster without the extra mass slowing it down and more comfortable in the air. It’s voice is a wail echoing in empty bones, slashing wildly with bony talons.

One slashed across her side, tearing the leotard. Her blood is green today, leftovers glistening on the skeleton's clawtips. It cut through the fog, and she laughed as she dodged the follow-up strikes.

“Come on, dazzle me!”

It’s fast but reckless, vicious but too simplistic. It’s easy as learning combos in Immortal Kombat, her boys groaning as she performs yet another fatality to learn its patterns, catch it by the wrist in the middle of a wide slash, and tear the bony arm out of its socket.

The bone of its skull had a 02 etched into it in the same font as her tattoo. She learned this because she saw it before her boot crushed it like a piece of old pottery.

“Sir, I think we should halt the test here. We’re showing elevated-”

“If it can’t handle the stress here, it’s not good to us in the field. Release Subject Three.”

At first she’s not sure what she’s seeing. A darting green light that could fit in her palm, darting in erratic patterns that leave little neon trails in the air. It doesn’t wait for an order to attack- she saw nothing but the afterimage of a streak and is hit with a fastball, dense like a dwarf star

“Red dwarfs make up most of the stars in the galaxy” he’d said, laying down on the ground next to her and pointed at the sky. “It’s actually pretty amazing just how rare our sun i-...”

Another hit in the solar plexus drove the wind out of her, it blinks like a firefly, bobbing away lighting-fast and going for her head.

She lifted her hand and fired a burst of green, wide and imprecise but enough to stun it, she backhands it and it scatters into a dim green mist.

At first she thought it was over, but the mist still hungin the air, swirling and collecting itself until it formed the shape of a young girl in a lime-green jumpsuit, white haired, green eyed and-

That. That face.

She knew that face.

The girl in the mist wavered like a mirage, her face distorted like a funhouse mirror. It hissed wordlessly at her with bulging, mismatched eyes, face sloughing like runny paint.

There’s no strategy, no clever follow-up. She roared and tackled Three, driving it into the ground with an inhuman shriek.

Whatever flimsy consistency held it together collapses under his fists. Ectoplasm singed his knuckles, each blow molding the creature’s into something blissfully unrecognizable until the shifting, bubbling mass of green- began to reshape itself back into-

“STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!”

Straddling on top of it, holding it down and phasing with it whenever it tried to slip away, she kept pounding the notmenotmenotme until the mist condenses into the consistency of abused wax, a vaguely human-shaped puddle of bubbling green.

“Four! Stand down! That’s an order, Four!”

She shoved away the melted arm that tried to reach for her and saw something in the puddle. Another person looking at her, in the reflection of the puddle of what used to be Three.

That boy again. Young. Too young. Hair chopped short for the backwards tattoo on the side of his head. His face contorted into disgust and horror and fury.

She punches it again. “YOU.”

Again. “AREN’T.”

“ME.”

Pain explodes in Samuel’s fist and he tumbles backwards, clutching it close and biting back a scream in his teeth even as he lands badly. Blind and in the dark.

A light clicks on and he winces, squinting. Legs kicking, trying to push himself upright with only his feet and elbows.

“Sammy! Sammy!”

A pair of hands on his shoulders, steadying him. His eyes adjust enough to see Danny, looking strange and bare without his glasses. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe.”

He does his best to follow the advice. He looks around, everything coming back as the last of the haze clears. He’s on the floor in Tucker’s room. It was...it was just a guys’ night: pizza and video games and bad sci-fi movies and talking about thoughts and fears in the safety of the dark.

Tucker’s standing next to his desk lamp in boxer shorts with cute Lovecraftian monsters on them, blinking owlishly without his contacts. “What’s going on?”

“I...” Samuel looks up and sees a massive crack in the mirror above Tucker’s dresser. A fractured, spiderweb pattern with flecks of green in the center. “I think I was sleepwalking.”

“More like nightmare-punching.” Danny holds out his hand, palm up. “Show me.”

Samuel agrees without thinking, taken off balance by his sudden assertiveness. Danny’s in pajama pants and a hole-ridden Star Trek t-shirt that probably should have been thrown out two years ago. His injured hand is an imitation of a dead spider- curled and twitching. He tries not to jump when Danny’s warm hands take his and turns it over.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I’ll be fine. I heal fast.”

“You should still put it in like...ice or something,” his brow furrows with worry. “Does it hurt?”

“I’ve had worse.” He says, and doesn’t miss the way Danny is looking at the scars on his arm.

Tucker crouches next to them. Samuel is so crowded by well-meaning concern he is simultaneously chafing under it and willing to do anything to keep them from leaving. “I’m sorry about your mirror.”

He shrugs. “It’ll probably be weeks before either of my parents notice. If they ask I’ll just say I did in like, a fit of hardcore protest against our bullshit appearance-obsessed culture, or something.”

“Does this mean you won’t be wearing make-up, then?” Samuel asks.

Tucker rolls his eyes and pulls out a black compact from somewhere, which is a feat because he’s still only wearing boxers and it is distracting.”My makeup isn’t to look pretty it’s to rage against the Man, Sammy. Huge dif.”

“Sam?”

Amazingly, Samuel doesn’t wince. “Yeah?”

Danny is still cradling his hurt hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

From his angle on the floor the mirror is just showing a fractured, broken image of Tucker’s room all thrown in lamplight and midnight shadows. He’s not entirely sure what he’d see if he stood up and looked into it- but he’s grateful that if he had to have a horrible nightmarish flashback, he didn’t do it someplace where the first thing he’d see when he woke up was Samantha’s face.

“Can we just...stay up for the rest of the night? I don’t really think I can manage sleeping, anymore.”

“Yeah, sure.” Danny smiles at him. “Of course. Anything you want.”

Tucker puts a reassuring hand on Samuel’s shoulder...and using it so he can push himself up and announces. “Welp. In that case, I should probably put on some pants.”

#phanniemay #phanniemay18 #danny phantom #samuel manson #reverse trio au #tucker foley #danny fenton #clones #bones #sparks #guys in white #warnings for ghost goop #and violence i guess?#not sure where this came from but i have been neglecting my son #so i'm just glad that i actually wrote *anything* at this point #my writing #my fanfiction

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not-just-any-fangirl · 7 years

Text

The Culling

A/N; Hey y’all and hapy October! So for Halloween this year @rivendell101 and I decided to do a collab! It should run from October to sometime in November/Decemeber depending on how long it goes! I’ll be posting on tumblr and Alisha will be posting on ffnet!

Let us know what you think of the opening :D

Hargeon is a safe place. That's what Detective Natsu Dragneel likes to believe. But as more and more cases pile up on his desk it seems like things that were once nightmares might have been more than just a horrible dream.

Detective!AU.

Pairing: Nalu, Fairy Tail

Words: 3100

Rating: M for gore/language/maybe smut

Part: Prolouge

Hargeon is a safe place, that’s what they all grew up being told. Though, those stories seem more like lies the older he gets. Hargeon is no different from the other cities in Fiore. Crocus, Magnolia, Hargeon, they’re all the same. Crime is rampant in the darkest corners of the city, in the alleys where no one dares to look. Arguably, Hargeon is worse, with its Seven Horrors held up like some vile badge of honor, as if their haunted tales of murder and monsters are nothing more than a joke.

He’s never believed the stories himself, them being nothing more than silly tales to keep children from running off into the night. There are no ghostly wails from the ports, widow wraiths walking the docks and waiting for men who will never return home. Hargeon has ghosts, but there’s nothing fantastical about them. The Seven Horrors are little more than ghost stories told at parties, passed around in the firelight to scare each other.

Only a few months ago there was something published in the paper about them, an article he vaguely recalls. Some woman investigated all of them, finding the sources of the tales, gruesome things. Hargeon has a dark history, terrible things have happened at the pier before, fires, deaths, murder, unimaginable things. The adults don’t talk about it much, but the kids?

They always love bloody endings.

Michael kicks a can as he slips into the alleyway, too tall to be young but still an awkward mess of long limbs that he needs more time to grow into, a hunch in his back from trying to make himself take up less room- not timid, but more tired. After his mother left them, he ended up taking on a role much too large for his small frame. His dad was haggard in those early years, a single father of three struggling to take care of them all. Michael is the oldest of three siblings, Emily only fourteen and Daniel turning nine in two weeks.

His fingers slip into the pockets of his jacket, a size too big, though he hopes to grow into it more. His second growth-spurt should be coming soon, his final year of high school beginning in only a week. Michael’s palm finds the thin, wrapped box in his jacket, the wrapping paper showing through a hole in the fabric. The box rattles with every step he takes, sounds muffled, and he hopes Daniel doesn’t find it before his birthday. His brother has been wanting this specific present for a while now, and Michael was lucky enough to find one at the nearest store. It was the last they had, and Yajima was kind enough to wrap it for him.

Michael has no talent for wrapping himself, always making a mess of things. He never cuts the paper evenly and underestimates how much he needs. Emily is far better at wrapping things than him, but she also has the tongue of the devil, never able to keep a secret for more than an hour or two, no matter how hard she tries.

The sound of metal clacking against stone echoes through the narrow passage, eerie if not for the loud bass thrumming from his headphones, heavy drums pounding in his ears. Michael glances around the alley warily, eyeing the worn brick walls and the trash scattered throughout the dingy alley, the sight practically branded into his thoughts.

Shadows dance along the walls towering over him, apartments on either side of the alley, cheap college housing. His gaze flicks skyward, the stars hidden both by the lattices of metal stairs winding along the length of the building and the overcast night sky, the dark clouds promising a storm.

He quickens his pace, yanking his hood over his head and cursing to himself when he feels the first patter of raindrops against his dark hair, freezing cold because of the early September air. It’s always colder near the coast, and with Hargeon resting towards the center of Kioni Bay the air has always been chilly, icy enough to freeze his fingers and toes during the coldest parts of winter.

Michael takes another step into the alley, a path he walks every Thursday after his shift at the grocery market. He’s sure his steps have worn a path with how often he passes through the grime and dirt of the forgotten corners of the city, finding it easier to travel through the less populace streets. It’s quieter there, almost peaceful compared to the rest of the city. Haregon may be a bustling trade port, famed for seafood and pearl farming, but that doesn’t mean all the wealth is shared equally across its inhabitants. Theft is a major problem in Hargeon, mostly petty crimes, vandalism and things easily forgotten. They rarely escalate to murder, but it isn’t unheard of. There have been more and more deaths in the city in the last few years, muggings gone wrong typically, but occasionally he’s heard stories of more sinister things happening.

Those stories were never comforting to him.

His lip curls, pushing away the darker thoughts as he kicks a piece of cardboard out of his way, thinking of the acceptance letter on his desk and his lack of funds to follow through. Crocus’s private academy has been his dream since he was younger, his parents always urging him to follow his dreams and go to college, try his hardest to be the best person he can, but his job at the market simply isn’t enough. Minimum wage won’t get him into school, and he hasn’t been accepted into any scholarship programs yet.

He almost wishes he was never accepted into the academy at all. That would have been easier to explain.

Michael’s scowl softens to a frown as he watches a large, mangy rat scurry away from where he aimed the piece of moldy box. While disgusting, he didn’t mean to scare the dumb thing.

A shadow heavier and thicker than the others flits over him, twisting as if alive, and Michael pauses mid-step, spine stiffening and breath catching. He glances back over his shoulder, frowning and looking around. He sees nothing, the alley empty and quiet, almost too quiet as he pauses the song playing. The rat is gone, and there’s something heavy in the air. A brewing thunderstorm, he guesses.

Snorting, Michael shakes his head, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he turns back the way he was headed, chuckling to himself at his own paranoia. He knows better than to overthink these things. It’s only the darkness playing tricks on him. Only the shadows dancing on the walls. It’s a silly thing to fear. Shadows are nothing more than shadows.

Despite not knowing why, Michael picks up his speed, hurrying through the unfamiliar shadows around him and turning up his music louder, letting the heavy sound of drums drown out his senses in one hazy rhythm. His heart pounds in time with the beat, drums and bass booming. His footsteps thud against the ground, one after another as he speeds through the alley.

A shadow moves against the brick walls, and again he raises the volume on his music, hoping to drown out everything else. After all, if he can’t hear anything, then nothing is chasing him. It’s kind of like when he was a child and his father would be out working his third job, and the apartment around him would creak and draw images from all of his favourite movies back to the front of his mind: long limbs reaching for him from the shadows, sharp teeth and too many eyes waiting to eat his toes, only stopped by the thin barrier of his blanket.

It was silly of him, to think a thin curtain of wool could protect him from the monsters under his bed.

He sighs, bathed in the harsh and cheap light of the streetlamps above, sidewalk broken by thin cracks, grass and dying weeds winding like spiderwebs through his path. A pebble clatters across the concrete, Michael amusing himself as he kicks it along his path, watching as it rolls and bouncing down the alleyway, disappearing into a dark shadow beside a garbage drum. A putrid smell comes from the container, something rotten, and his nose wrinkles as he takes a step nearer to it.

A second pebble skips down the path, clicking innocently against the pavement as it rolls to a stop only a few paces in front of him. Michael pauses again, standing between the large circles of light surrounding two lampposts, one at each mouth of the alley. He swallows, willing his legs to walk, run, anything so long as he moves. He thinks back to all the lessons he gave to his siblings about to how to handle themselves when walking outside by alone. How to keep their heads down, stay out of trouble. He told them if they ever saw something strange they should wait until they were a safe distance away to call for the police. He told them, if they ever felt even a little scared, to run, no matter how stupid they thought they’d look for running from nothing. And here he is, not doing any of that, instead standing frozen as the lampost behind him flickers once, twice, a third time, before falling into darkness.

Michael feels pieces of something bounce of his leg gently, the glass catching on the light of the still working lampost in front of him as it scatters alongside the pebble, the rest sprinkling across the ground somewhere behind him. A blown fuse.

Streetlights go out all the time in Hargeon, the city too lazy to replace them regularly. It isn’t uncommon for them to blow or go out in the middle of the night. Hell, he has a burned out lightbulb in his bathroom from a year ago, forgetting to change it. It’s nothing. Just those scary movies making his brain whirl like when he was a kid. There was absolutely nothing waiting for him in the shadows. He’s alone in the alley, just as he always is at this time of night, Michael reminds himself. Except...

The second stone came from behind him.

Michael rips his headphones from his ears with a garbled shout, his loud music suddenly replaced with ear-shattering static. It leaves his ears ringing even as he watches the black and red headphones bounce on the concrete. The static blares from his phone until Michael manages to pause his music, cutting off the horrible screech: glaring and loud and painful, like that of a radio tuned the wrong way. Discomfort crawls beneath his skin as he hears the noise echo in his head, despite the fact that he was listening to a playlist his sister made for him.

Michael glares down at his phone in confusion, hand shaking as he holds the device into the dim light, checking for anything strange. Maybe it was only a prank by Emily. She’s become something of a demon lately, playing jokes at the worst times, trying to scare him, hoping it’ll make him stay next fall.

Shaking his head, he searches for his headphones, frowning when he sees where they’ve landed. They lay surrounding the second rock that rolled into his path, right between the large black speakers. He turns back to his phone, pressing the play button slowly, preparing for the mind-numbing static.

His music resumes as if nothing happened.

Crack.

Michael stiffens as a strange sound splits the air, sharp and gruesome. It makes his skin crawl, a sick feeling twisting in his gut. Vomit rises in his throat as he inhales too sharply through his nose, the rotten smell from the garbage invading his senses. Michael never knew what breaking bones sounded like. He’s never broken one before, never witnessed such a thing. He wouldn’t recognize the sound even if he heard it, but he always imagined that it would be something like a quick snap, like a twig breaking underfoot.

He imagines it would sound like what he just heard.

Crack.

Michael doesn’t whimper as the harsh and grinding sound approaches from behind him. He can hardly breathe as the sounds come closer, creeping along the walls slowly, edging closer with every rapid thump of his heart against his rib cage. The street goes silent around him, so still he’s not sure he even heard the sound of bones grinding together until they broke. It’s all in his head. That’s it. His dad always said his mother was a little off, talking nonsense and hearing things he couldn’t. He always said Michael was just like her.

CRACK.

Michael lunges forward, feet pounding across the pavement for two steps before something wraps around his chest, three long and thin bands squeezing around him, something sharp digging into his sides and making him cry out both in pain and sheer terror. It yanks him back, his feet ripped out from underneath him as he’s dragged across the concrete. The rubber of his boots squeal against the ground as he flails wildly, finding his sense a moment too late. He squeezes his fingers between his body and one long, thing appendage, nails clawing at whatever’s wrapped around him. His fingertips dig into the porous, brittle material that’s crushing the air from his lungs. It’s rough beneath his fingers, spindly, and he claws at it madly, choking on a sob.

His screams ring through the night, mixing with the heavy sound of the rain hitting the buildings and cracked sidewalk, blanketing his calls for help like a fog hides the road in the earliest hours of morning. A piece of whatever is holding him breaks off under his nail, freezing liquid spilling from it, thick and sticking to him, making it harder for his hands to pull away from it. The thing yowls, dropping him onto the sidewalk. His ankle cracks under his weight, snapping painful and searing his senses as he feels something shift in ways it shouldn’t.

He wheezes for breath, whimpering, and scuttles across the ground, slipping and rolling onto his back to see what grabbed him. His breath catches in his throat when he finally looks at it, a strangled sound tearing from his chest.

A monster, he thinks absently, staring in terror at the creature looming only a dozen steps away. His eyes trace along the spindly form, the hazy figure rising near nine feet tall, perhaps more. Rain drips into his eyes, and the light from his phone cuts through the darkness as he shines it towards the figure, scrambling for purchase. It hides in the darkness, but the clouds and shadows do nothing to hide the stark, sickly pale creature from sight.

It looks wrong, grotesque in the way it tilts its head to look at him. Michael’s heart skips as he stares at the thing. Thinner than any human should be, his skin crawls when he sees the legs bent backwards and half folded under itself, animalistic. Long arms dangle a foot above the ground, too long to be human, thin tendons bulging beneath its skin, making the flesh ripple as it moves. Its stomach curls inwards, up and under its ribs, half-starved with no organs hidden in the hollow space.

What makes Michael freeze in terror isn’t it’s harshly coloured body or the subtle wrongness in it’s features, inhuman. The backwards joints crackle as it shifts its weight, the skin bulging when it moves, and Michael is struck with the horrific notion that its bones are breaking as it moves. The fingers curl as it watches Michael, long and thin and too many for him to count in the darkness.

No, what makes Michael stay in his spot despite RUNRUNRUNRUN thrumming in his bones, his blood rushing through his ears in a desperate whine is its grotesque face.

An oval head stares back at him, long and smooth aside for slits where a nose should be, neck precariously thin. There are no indentations where its features should be, no eyes or mouth marring the sickly pale skin that covers the rest of it. They stare at one another, silent as the rain grows heavier around them, lightning flashing above.

The first boom of thunder echoes hollowly in his ears.

Black oozes along one of the three talons on its right hand, Michael feeling sick as he realizes that was what held him seconds ago. It sticks to the things skin, bringing out the divots and contours hidden by its colourless skin. As the first drop mixes with the rain puddling under them the thing roars, its face splitting open where a mouth should be. Where the skin was seamless before, a gaping maw now stares back at him.

Michael’s body finally responded to his mental pleas, adrenaline ripping through his veins. His hands grow bloody as he scrambles backwards, trying to force himself onto his knees. His ankle gives beneath him, crackling under his weight. His teeth grind together as he ignores the pain and pushes himself forward into the light and away from the monster. His backpack falls from his shoulders into a puddle. His phone slips from his hand, glass shattering against the pavement.

The cracking sound returns, louder and harsher than before, clear through the rain, a knife inside his mind. Michael’s screams slip into choked sobs as the thing lands in front of him, dropping from the sky and appearing in front of him with inhuman speed, silent as it lands aside from the grinding of its joints. They pop and split and squeal beneath its weight and Michael can’t find the sense to breathe.

Michael stumbles over his tongue, mouth dry and tongue thick in his mouth, a strange crackle leaving him when he tries to speak. His whole body shakes in fear, his hood falling back from his face. The rain leaks under his jacket, water leaving freezing trails down his back and soaking his shirt so it sticks to his skin. It towers over him, mouth open, pointed teeth as white as its skin, blood dripping from its mouth and between its rows of sharp fangs.

Michael takes a step back, crying out as his ankle snaps and he topples to the wet ground. Gravel digs into his palms, stinging despite the numbness of his hands.

The thing above him remains motionless, large mouth twisting into some semblance of a twisted smile, bloody gums and stark fangs glinting in the flickering streetlight.

A bolt of lightning illuminates them from overhead, catching in the drops of rain as they fall, making the blood dripping down its chin shine sickeningly.

It lunges at him, long clawed and knobby fingers reaching for his face.

The thunder swallows his scream.

#ftfanfics #fairy tail #just any writing #the culling #not101 collab #murder tw #blood tw #oooooooo #poor michael #our little oc #halloween fic #modern au #detective au

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ladylynse · 7 years

Text

Danny Phantom: Dani’s Return

Essentially, another short (2K) snippet, just because I can.

“Can you get that, sweetie?”

Danny, who had just gotten to the top of the stairs, groaned and turned around to answer the door. He’d spend an exhausting day chasing around Cujo (to no avail) and trying not to fail his classes or get the entire school destroyed. Sam and Tucker had even cancelled their plans so he could get some shuteye, meaning he was home before supper. For once.

And still, no peace.

The knock came again, followed by a heavier thud. Danny hoped that didn’t mean it was a delivery, although if it was, maybe he could blast whatever it was to smithereens before his parents realized that particular gear or whatever it was they needed for their newest weapon had already arrived.. “Coming!” He heard a few all-too-familiar yelps and was suddenly really glad his mom had asked him to get the door. He shot a quick look into the kitchen, but from what he could see, Maddie was leaning over something on the counter which may or may not be alive, so she should be suitably busy while he dealt with Cujo.

Again.

Although walls—even the ones in his house—hadn’t stopped Cujo from practically bowling him over before.

Danny opened the door, and then he realized what he’d heard. Eyes wide, he dropped into a crouch. “Dani?”

Cujo stood over her, whimpering. She looked about as good as she had when she’d been destabilizing, and he hoped this wasn’t some sort of relapse. “Hey, cuz,” she said weakly. She tried to smile, but he wasn’t buying it. Black strands of hair stuck to flushed skin, and her clothes were pretty much soaked through. It looked like she’d been dropped into a swimming pool, but more likely, Cujo had carried her here and she was covered in dog slobber. More worryingly, she was still covered in dog slobber. He turned her intangible to get it off before putting an arm around her and helping her to her feet.

“Dani, what happened?” he whispered, resisting the urge to throw another glance over his shoulder. His mom wasn’t likely to notice anything was amiss yet, but….

“S’nothing. Jus’…jus’ comin’ to visit.”

“You’re burning up!”

Dani mumbled something in response, but all Danny really caught was fire. He formed a small piece of ice in his palm and held it out. “Suck on this. Try to get your temperature down. When was the last time you had something to drink?” This time, he didn’t even get a reply. Not from Dani, anyway. Cujo was still whining at his feet, so he dropped the ice and let the dog slurp it up. “Cujo, go fetch Jazz,” he ordered. “She’s at the library, but I’m gonna need help.”

Cujo began to pant and cocked his head.

“Jazz,” Danny repeated. “Get Jazz. Go on. Fetch!” He pointed in the appropriate direction and zapped a quick ectoblast, hoping Cujo would get the idea. Danny wasn’t sure how much the ghost dog understood, but he yipped and took off in the right direction, so that was something.

“Who’s at the door, honey?”

Crud.

Danny turned in time to see Maddie stop in her tracks. Her jumpsuit was covered in bright green splatters, but her hood was off and her goggles up, so he saw her eyes widen. “Um….” He had no idea how to explain this.

Where was Jazz when he needed her?

“Bring her inside,” Maddie ordered, but she was already moving to take Dani into her arms. She carried the now-limp girl in her arms and lay her down on the couch. “Get me a damp cloth,” she ordered, pulling first aid supplies from somewhere on her person. (Danny was not about to ask.)

The next few minutes where a whirlwind of fetching this and that while trying to avoid answering any of his mother’s questions. Unfortunately, she cornered him on his last run for some aspirin. “Do you know her, Danny?”

“Uh….”

“This is important. I need to know everything I can if I’m going to help her. Why didn’t she go to the hospital?”

What was he supposed to say? Because she was half ghost? Because she didn’t really have a home or parents who looked after her? Because she wouldn’t have enough money to pay her bills when she barely got by doing whatever it was she did while travelling? (Magic tricks, if he had to guess. Tucker kept trying to put him up to it.)

“I think she’s a friend of Valerie’s,” he said carefully. “I’ve seen her around. She doesn’t live here.”

“Danny.”

“Her name’s Danielle, but she goes by Dani, too.”

Maddie crossed her arms, clearly not buying his innocence. “Explain.”

Danny tried to remember how much his parents knew. Would Damon have told his parents about his daughter’s extracurricular activities in case she tried to get weaponry from them or did he keep quiet on that front on the assumption that any interest Valerie expressed would be immediately seized upon by Jack Fenton? Or was there a timeline where they had found out that hadn’t later been rewritten?

“Well, Valerie’s kinda…interested in ghost hunting.” She could skin him alive later as long as she didn’t figure out his secret right now. He could at least claim Danny Phantom had told him if he needed to. “So’s Dani. Maybe she, uh, got into something.”

“And you think that’s why she came here.”

“It makes sense,” he offered. It wasn’t true, not entirely, but it did make sense, and it was built on truth, kinda, so it was definitely the best he was going to be able to do right now.

Maddie sighed. “Phone Valerie to see if she knows anything. Better yet, have her come over. At the very least, I’d like to know if she this Dannielle is allergic to anything.” A sheepish look crossed Maddie’s face as she added, “Valerie can stay for supper, but we’ll have to order in.”

Danny blinked. “Um, maybe that’s not the best idea.”

“I don’t intend for this to become a repeat of last Thanksgiving, sweetie. I just want to help your friend. Talk to Valerie. I’m going to take Danielle down to the lab and—”

“No!”

“It’s just going to be a few routine tests, I promise. I want to rule out ecto-contamination.”

“You can’t!”

“It’s for the best, honey.”

She turned, and Danny reached out to grab her arm. “Mom, please, no, Dani hates labs.”

“It’s sound like you know more about her than you want to admit.”

Danny swallowed. “No, I just, uh, remembered that from what Val said once.”

Maddie ruffled his hair. “It won’t take long. I should be done before she wakes up. Go phone Valerie, and if she knows anything, let me know immediately. I may not need to run through everything.”

“But….” How was he supposed to stop his mother from doing what she did best: taking care of people who’d had a nasty run-in with something in her field of supposed expertise? He should be thankful she hadn’t quarantined them all on the spot.

But she already had Dani in her arms again and was heading for the basement, and he didn’t know what to say to make her stop.

Why couldn’t Jazz have been home?

Even if she didn’t know the whole story, she’d see his face and just know to say something, and it would be the right thing.

But if he said something, it would as good as confirm that he knew more than he was saying, and his mother would prod and ask question after question. He wasn’t so good at dodging questions, especially with his mom. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up saying something about Dani’s past, and from there….

No. He had to try. Dani would definitely show up as heavily contaminated if he wasn’t there to doctor her results.

Danny ran for the stairs, reaching the top as his mother got to the bottom. He took them two at a time, but he was still only halfway down when Maddie laid Dani on the cool metal table, and he wasn’t quite at the bottom before Dani’s eyes flickered open and she shrieked. “Get away!”

She went from horizontal to vertical faster than Danny had expected, coiling up and practically springing from the table. She landed farther away than she should have, and her eyes were flaring green. She was looking at them—at him—as if she didn’t recognize him, and then the next moment, she was closing her eyes as if not seeing them would mean they wouldn’t be able to see her. “Get away, get away, get awaaaaaaay!”

Maddie jerked back, and Danny half jumped, half fell to the bottom of the stairs. The glassware and sterile tools began to rattle on the shelves and benchtops, and Danny realized what this was: a weak version of his—their—Ghostly Wail.

“Dani! Dani, it’s me!”

Yelling didn’t seem to get her attention, especially over the sound of breaking glass, but after a few long seconds, her wail cut off abruptly and ended in a sob. She slumped to the floor, eyes blinking back to blue, and hugged her knees. He knew how exhausted she must be—he had never attempted the Ghostly Wail in human form before, but he knew how much it had taken out of him in the beginning—but she was more wary than she was weary; she didn’t take her eyes off them.

“Dani,” he tried again, starting forward.

This time, Maddie caught his arm. “Don’t. It’s not safe.”

“No, it’s fine. She’s just confused.” He tried to get out of Maddie’s grip, but she tightened it, and he wouldn’t be able to break it without phasing, which was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

“It’s not your friend, Danny. No human is capable of what it just did.”

His insides turned to ice, and he stopped struggling. “Mom—”

“Go up to your room, Danny.”

She hadn’t ordered him out of the lab in ages. “Mom—?”

“You don’t need to see this.”

Oh, no. “Mom, whatever you’re thinking—”

She tightened her grip once more in warning before releasing him, giving him a push toward the stairs. “Go, Danny.”

“No, I—”

“Now.”

He planted his feet. She was refusing to take her eyes off Dani and could only really see him with her peripheral vision. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be enough to fight him. “She’s my friend, Mom.”

“No, it’s not. Do I need to prove it to you?” She pulled out the FentonWorks weapon she’d had on her the time they got stuck in the woods courtesy of Vlad. The blast wasn’t enough to really hurt a human, hardly more than strong shock from static electricity, but a ghost, even a halfa in human form….

“No, look, I think…. I think there’s something I need to tell you about Dani.” About me, he added silently. But he didn’t know if the conversation would get there. “She’s had it rough, but she’s still just a girl, I swear. She was experimented on.” That sounded infinitely better than she was an experiment. “That’s why she hates labs. And that’s why she’s, um, got powers. She’s a girl, not a ghost.”

Well, she was a ghost girl, but if he could convince his mom without her realizing that Dani was as much ghost as girl, then that was a bonus. Maybe phoning Valerie wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. She’d helped Dani before. It would invite all kinds of impossible questions from her, but as long as he could help Dani….

Maddie didn’t put away her weapon but instead reached for one of their net guns, and Danny knew he was fighting a losing battle. He turned and practically flew up the stairs instead. There wouldn’t be time for Valerie. It was risky, especially when Jazz wasn’t home, but he’d have to save Dani himself. He reached the kitchen, made sure his dad hadn’t come home yet, either, and transformed before diving—invisible and intangible—back into the basement.

He was halfway to Dani when he realized his mom hadn’t been going for a net gun but the alarm.

“FentonWorks Anti-Creep Mode activated,” Jack Fenton’s recorded voice exclaimed over the blaring alarms. “Our special today is fudge! I mean, pain!”

Weaponry sprang out of hidden compartments in the walls, swivelling to point at both Danny and Dani. Before he could close the distance between them, the world filled with blinding light, crackling electricity, and screams.

(see more fics)

#phanfiction #phanfic #dp fanfiction #danny phantom #fanfiction #dani phantom #danny fenton #maddie fenton #dani #my writing #ladylynse #dp snippet #snippets #miraculous ladybug is on a necessary blackout so....#text

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thebootybitchdragon · 7 years

Text

Here you go my pretties, here are some random Daniel Masters ideas I have.

Things I Like:

His name is Daniel, and he always refers to himself as such. He never uses any nicknames or variations of it, mostly to keep things from getting confusing since we now have Danny, Dani, Dan and Daniel.

I doubt Vlad's entire motivation for cloning Daniel is to just have a son. I think he either wanted to have him take Danny's place while Danny himself was gotten rid of, or, again, use him as a weapon against Danny. Or for some schemes. A particularly strong idea is sending Daniel, under Danny's guise, into the Fenton Family and having him cause utter havoc to rip it apart.

His human form eyes are a darker blue than Danny's, closer to Vlad's shade. His ghost form's eyes are pink, simply due to the fact that Vlad has red eyes and red eyes for evil or dark 'twin' versions of a character is so overused. Pink is close enough to red to still tie in to the opposite color scheme of Danny's green, like Vlad's red does, and it could also count as a another trait from Vlad since his ectoplasm is mostly pink. His skin is the same tone in both forms as Danny's.

He has a short ponytail. I will fight all of you on this; he needs an evil badass ponytail. The ponytail itself is completely black, bc this child has enough anime hair with his fringe. Overall, his hair is wavier than Danny's.

Daniel is able to take on an appearance identical to Danny's, with very minor differences. The main one is the faint marks where the cloning machine was attached to him. He doesn't like attention drawn to them or people asking about them, even in his true form. The second way is his glowing eye color (which is pink). He is also constantly releasing ectoenergy to maintain the illusion, so he is also able to be detected with any ghost sensor easily.

Daniel initially believes Vlad is infallible, that he is always right, and that his word is law. This is of coarse what Vlad has intentionally taught him. However, as time goes on and he has multiple encounters with Danny and the others, his views begin to get less black and white and he starts seeing problems with what Vlad tells him and does. The first time he questions Vlad, Vlad responds with anger and threats to punish him for 'disobeying'. This causes even more doubt, and starts him questioning just what, exactly, Vlad truly cares about.

He is prone to temper tantrums when he doesn't get what he wants, due to Vlad's spoiling. Danny finds this irritating and complains about it. It occasionally gets them into arguments when they try to work together, because Daniel sometimes has a hard time fallowing Danny's orders even if he realizes its the better plan.

Daniel is a smudge taller than Danny, something he tends to like to flaunt even though its not that big of a difference to warrant it. Mostly it's just because he stands up straight while Danny slumps.

Daniel's ghost half doesn't have the Phantom logo on it. It has the Vladco. logo on the back, between the shoulders.

He is most likely home-schooled, tutored, or otherwise privately educated. Possibly by ghosts. Vlad himself does train him how to use his ghost powers, and it makes a difference bc he quickly becomes a formidable opponent to Danny. Vlad has taught him how to do several select moves that Danny himself has been unable to learn, like proper duplication and ectoenergy redirection.

As a counterbalance to all of the Vlad influence, Daniel has lost the Ghost Wail. It is one of the few advantages Danny has over him.

Speaking of Danny, he never calls Daniel by his name. Ever. He cannot stand to, he is vehemently against it. Daniel is his name. He always refers to Daniel as some kind of rude nickname. As their encounters go on, it becomes a little bit like a game for Danny, to find new things to call him in an attempt to piss Daniel off.

Daniel often dresses, acts, and speaks like a rich spoiled brat because he is one. Vlad will literally get him anything he asks for, something he learned incredibly quickly. As such, he began to ask for incredibly ridiculous things just to see if he'd get them. Thus far, he owns a submarine with an entirely pink inside, a castle made of glass, a tree house palace in his own forest, his own “miniature” jet, three cruise ships, and has an island being made for him, on which he wants to build and upside down tower. Danny has criticized all of this, but Daniel's response is simply “I have an island and you don't, stop being so jealous.”

In the same vein, Daniel always refers to Vlad as “father”, except when hes angry and attempting to be scathing. Whenever he uses the term “Dad”, its a sign that a line has been crossed, and he is very livid. It is also commonly used as an accusation or in that kind of a tone.

He always wear high end fashion, often tailored suits like Vlad. When forced to wear some of Danny's clothing, he complained, “I look so pedestrian.” and “People are going to think I live in the sewer, this is so embarrassing.”

Also: “Move, peasants, your future Prince of Evil is walking here.”

Daniel tends to behave like a more sarcastic, dry-humored rude bratty version of Danny with skewed morals, however he silently suffers from a lack of self image and insecurity. He is constantly worried about his identity, because he can't figure out just who he's supposed to be. He attempts to ignore it, but at night when he can't sleep, it haunts him. He knows he's not normal, not truly human nor ghost in any sense. He sometimes feels fake, like a cheap copy, because he knows he's not his own individual. Its part of the reason he starts mimicking Vlad's over-the-top behavior, to hide his insecurity and lack of identity with fake confidence and narcissism. The more exaggerated he behaves, the worse he feels inside. This is noticed by Vlad, who doesn't notice the underlying problems, and encourages the behavior. Danny notices the change, however he only criticizes it. Jazz is the one to see the cracks in the facade, and the one to shatter it. This confrontation is the first time Danny sees Daniel as an individual like Dani instead of a copy that looks and speaks like him. Danny hadn't considered the clone truly has its own personality, and neither did Vlad.

This is loosely based on the theory presented in the game SOMA: That when you have copies made of you, you are only identical up until the split is made. You then become two different versions of yourself, each believing they're the “true” you. In the game, the people who are being scanned to have a digital copy of themselves put into a computer ark to be sent into space often killed themselves after the scan was complete so that only one of themselves—the scan—would continue to exist. By doing so, they believed they were “continuing” their true existence, when really they were just murdering the biological version of themselves. The conflict of being presented with copies of yourself and of copying yourself is prevalent in the entire game, and it constantly begs the question of “If I'm only a copy, and I still really me?” The game handles it quite intelligently and its a game I cannot recommend enough.

Speaking of insecurity and a lack of identity, Jazz is the one to help Danny cope. This takes precedence over her absolute ire towards Vlad, as she was going to go kick his ass for cloning him yet again. Later, Daniel has a few conversations with Jazz about his own thoughts and issues.

Daniel doesn't understand love. He attempts to “love” Vlad, because sons are supposed to love their fathers, but he doesn't understand it. This is due to a general lack of experience with true care and love, because for all Vlad thinks he's loving and care, it's not quite right. The lack of genuine kindness and empathy is the main issue. The first time he encounters a caring person with those qualities, it is Jazz.

He has an irrational fear of caves and dark holes.

He is a pun master. Some things are just too ingrained in someone to get rid of.

Possible Ideas I'm not sure about:

I am contemplating the loss of the Ice Core, but there are pros and cons to each side. Removing it makes Daniel too different from Danny, as he's supposed to be a clone, however changing it to something else allows for the possibility of a better dynamic; ie: if Daniel had a fire core, that would make him more difficult to fight for Danny, yet also uncomfortable for him as they'd be opposites. As of right now, I've no intentions of changing his core type. I did have an idea where Daniel has an Ice core, however its “tainted”. It's darker and a more prone to forming in jagged, broken ways with dark blues and purple discolorations like bruises. Another idea had been the Icefire core, however I felt that, combined with the already suggested things, was too much Vlad influence, especially for such a large part of his design and character.

Daniel envies those around him who had/have mothers. He finds the concept abstract and foreign, and he wants it. He over-idolizes it, due to inexperience and his own yearning, holding mothers and the concept of motherhood in an almost deity-like regard that's oddly childish. “A mother is the person who can take away any and all pain with her love, who can fix things with a few soft words.” He keeps this fascination/desire/envy a secret, entirely due to Vlad's repeated statement that he was the parental figure. This causes him to become incredibly curious about Maddie, which is exactly as awkward as you'd expect. He never reveals himself, however, and after his existence is revealed, he avoids her specifically as he doesn't know how to interact with her.

He adopted Vlad's swearing habits, however its rare and he uses household objects or small items instead of sweets. He also tends to use them more as insulting nicknames directed towards someone or something: “You absolute moronic table leg!” “Get back here, you insufferable ping pong ball!” “Wel you're a freakin wet paper towel!” -muttering under his breath- “Pens in a basket...”

A minor gripe with the concept Butch did was that he stated Vlad put on a few pounds. Which I legitimately cannot see. Vlad is a wine glass, he cannot be anything else. Even when he did get more muscled as the seasons went on, it was all in his chest, the man does not have a stomach. You can pry my big tiddy'd wine glass mile long legged Vlad from my cold dead hands. (I did like that is seemed like some of his ghost half was starting to leak over into his human form, with the hair shape. Vlad's finally got his devil horns.)

#Danny Phantom #Vlad Masters #Daniel Masters #Clone Danny #vox'slittleheadcanons #Someday i'll get to drawing him #that day is not today.

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katlivesinthewoods · 4 years

Text

What I Never Knew I Needed | Dan X Andy

A short ILITW re-write shipping Dan and Andy, or Dandy!

Time Taken: ~3 hours

Word Count: 2644

---

A brief "good game" in the high school locker room after gym class. A meager conversation during a group assignment. A polite "hello" in the local coffee shop.

I'd never spoken much to Daniel Pierce since our falling out as kids. Well, it wasn't just /our/ falling out. The whole group had dispersed after The Accident of 2007, each member taking a small part of me with it, but I think losing touch with Dan is what hurt me the most.

Despite the nine of us being thick as thieves, there had been little subgroups within us. Devon Destefano had always been closest with the twins, Noah, and... and Jane Marshall. Stacy Green and Ava Cunningham may have been polar opposites, but with Stacy's mom as mayor and Ava's dad as the head of the Westchester police department, they'd been inseparable for years. Lily Ortiz and Lucas Thomas were the smarties of the group and we all knew it. And then there was me and Dan, both kind of left out but brought together by that factor. My parents had teasingly asked me several times - as had my best friend since diapers, Tomoichi "Tom" Sato - if Dan and I were more than just friends, but I was seven and shooed them off with the typical "ew, boys have cooties!" comment you'd expect from someone who was barely eight. Looking back, I was clearly in denial.

I'd always known something was different with me, deep down. I think The Accident was the inciting incident that really brought everything to light. And after I came out, I realized that I had never changed - not internally, at least.

When I'd first cut my hair short, nearly a year after The Accident, nearly every boy in school laughed at me. Lucas had never been the bullying sort, but he didn't try to stop me from getting beaten up almost regularly. Noah refrained from helping, too, though after The Accident, I think he refrained from doing pretty much anything. It was Dan who finally stood up for me - he had somehow managed to worm his way into the popular crowd and he decided to help me when by all means he could've joined in. When he saw some kids wailing on me one recess, he told them to step off, helped me up, then said that my new hair looked "very me."

I'd received my first binder as a birthday present from my parents the summer before high school. I think that was what gave me the confidence to finally try out for the basketball team. Tom and I had scrimmaged in my backyard relentlessly for years - I'd always loved basketball, but I really threw myself into it when I realized it was like a coping mechanism for me. My raison d'etre, if you will.

And yet love was never enough, was it? No matter how much love I had for basketball, it didn't fill that small part of me still missing from my childhood. And it definitely didn't mean I would be getting onto the basketball team. I was scrawny and a major minority in more than one sense, not to mention still broken, incomplete after my world had shattered as a kid.

But I didn't care, so I worked hard. And I think Tom cared even less, so he worked hard with me. Throughout our first three years of high school, we sat as close to the basketball team's table as possible at lunch. It was close as well to the football team's, and every so often Dan and I would meet eyes and he'd offer me a small smile, as if he still cared, just a little.

As odd as it is to admit it, I think those brief exchanges were all that got me through some days. Tom and my parents had always been supportive, but when you've known someone all your life, their support comes off as more obligational than sincere. I think having someone outside my little bubble of constant and unwavering support acknowledge me, even for a second, made me realize that support could come from anywhere.

And then the spring before my senior year, after three years of the most intense workout regimen either of us had used, Tom and I were told we made the team. We started sitting at the basketball team's table at lunch and every so often I'd still meet Dan's gaze from the next table over. I was by no means any cooler than I had been before I was on the team, but seeing Dan's small smile made me feel like I'd finally made it, just like in all the high school rom coms we'd watched as kids. He may have been a hardass quarterback, but I could tell in his eyes that even almost ten years down the line, he was a softie inside.

Even after I'd gotten everything I thought I wanted, there was still that small piece of me missing. In fact, it seemed to be growing a little every day. It took me a little while to realize, but it seemed that every time I would meet Dan's ever-soft gaze, I'd feel a little more fixed, but as soon as either of us would look away that little bit of fullness would be taken away, stealing away more of me with it.

There had always been something deeper in Dan's eyes, an unintelligible something I just couldn't place. I thought at the time he had a little piece of him missing, too, and I figured I would never know the answer. I figured my senior year would pass just like the first three years of high school and I'd never talk to Dan again.

And then, the night before the first day of senior year, I received a text from him.

He sounded so sure of himself in his messages, but I had a feeling in my gut that his texts were coming from a place of deep-seated fear. He'd returned to the woods, the site of The Accident, and claimed that the nightmares our group had dreamed up as kids were real. I told him he was crazy, turned off my phone, and went back to sleep. I wish I hadn't.

The next day, Dan wasn't at school. I didn't have to wait until lunch to know it, either. I had a gut feeling as soon as I walked through the door, and that feeling was confirmed by the faint voice that seemed to rise from the grave of my childhood over the gymnasium, interrupting the pep rally and letting me and my long lost group of friends know that our past was not yet finished with us, and that Dan, the least deserving of the remaining eight of us, was in danger.

It was Devon who rallied us together after school, and as much as I tried to deny it, deep down I knew that what had happened at the pep rally was no prank, and that those bruises on Devon's neck weren't just a hickey gone wrong. I think the main signifier of this was the fact that that hole inside of me started to fill up again. It was Devon as well who insisted we go into the woods in search of Dan, and despite my better judgement and the knowledge that I'd have to be up early for basketball practice, I agreed to come along. To my surprise, Noah did the same.

I nearly cried when we found Dan, half alive, later that night, and I didn't know why. At least, I didn't at the time. He'd been bait, no doubt. Just a way to lure the rest of us back into the woods and finish the sick game we'd started ten years prior. That infuriated me. The game always went a little too far, the instigator always played a little too rough, and somehow, after all it had taken from the eight of us, it still wanted more. Well, I wasn't about to let that be Dan.

He was comatose before he'd reached the hospital. It was a week before they let anyone aside from his family in to see him, but you could bet I was there the moment they opened visiting hours. That was when, after ten long years of keeping everything inside, I finally spilled all the tears my body would allow. I didn't know why, but seeing Dan so lifeless felt like a personal blow, like that lingering remnant of hope from outside my bubble of obligatory support had been crushed. I think that was when the missing part of me was at it's largest, like a black hole, threatening to eat up any positive feeling it thought I didn't deserve.

Despite Tom's ever-comforting presence, the one thing I felt like I needed after Ben was attacked by a bear was one of Dan's smiles. Just a small sign that I could keep going. But it never came. He just laid there. I waited for what felt like hours - hell, I even held his hand. There had been a brief second of hope when I thought I felt Dan squeeze my hand, but the nurse had told me a few visits ago that it was common for comatose patients to have small "reactions" like those, even to nothing. Eventually Tom had to take me gently by the elbow and guide me from the room. In all honesty, I was glad for it. I might have stayed until they kicked me out, otherwise.

After the bear attack I made a name for myself: "King Kang." The feeling of immense pride still dimmed, however, when I realized that Dan wasn't cheering along with the crowd. I shunned the increasingly frequent thought that maybe he never would. As much as I hated to think it, Dan, to whom I owed so much of my thanks for his silent support, may never see me revel in the glory he helped lead me to. Even so, I visited him the next day to tell him about my victory. I was a little started - and a little nostalgia-struck - when one of the nurses commented that he was lucky to have a boyfriend like me. I felt that missing part of me grow a little bigger when I replied that I was just an old friend.

Seeing Dan just a few days before I went with the whole group, officially reunited after ten years, must have helped me in some way, as I was able to keep it together even when he was possessed by the literal ghost of our past. It was as though even just being around him made me feel stronger, just as those small smiles he would gift me had done throughout the years.

Days later, just after we performed the ritual to lock away our childhood nightmares once and for all, I rushed to the hospital to see Dan, hopeful that just by defeating the monster that had put him in his comatose state he would be instantly better. I was disappointed when they informed me that visiting hours were closed by the time I arrived, and even moreso when I arrived to his room to see him just as vegetative as the last time I'd visited, just two days before.

And then came homecoming, the night I wouldn't forget for the rest of my life. I'd been crowned Homecoming King, though the victory felt as empty as I did without Dan there to share it. As if nothing was right without Dan, the whole night descended to hell in an instant when the school came under attack by Redfield's army of zombie dogs. The ritual had failed. Just when I thought things couldn't possibly get worse, I couldn't hold off one of my zombie attackers and was met with a broken leg and a long trip to the woods.

I was hit on the head so many times as I was dragged to the house where it all started that I began fading in and out of consciousness. I longed desperately for my friends to come save me and even tried texting them, but sometime during the trip I'd lost my phone. I was almost tempted to burn the thing by the time I got it back, but I'd learned to appreciate my belongings over the years.

Tears came to my eyes when my friends finally found me, not because I was in immense pain or because I was glad help had finally come, but because among their number was a fully-functional Daniel Pierce. His name was the first thing I said, but it came out choked. Instead of lingering on it - after all, all our "conversations" had been painfully one-sided and I was sure he remembered none of it - I addressed the whole group.

And then came Tom, possessed and ready to kill. But I met Dan's eyes, and he gave me a small smile - different from before, but still familiar - and I knew then that I had the strength to talk Tom out of Redfield's control. As cliché as it was, I could only describe it as the power of friendship.

But Tom was the least of our problems. Noah, traitorous snake as he was, lured us into Redfield's trap, and it was then that he revealed it wasn't Redfield who had done all this, but Jane. She hadn't fully died in The Accident of 2007. Her soul had become what Redfield's was - a corrupted mass of dark power, wishing only for first companionship, then death. And the only way to get what she wanted - her freedom - was to replay the very game that trapped her in the first place.

It was once again a small smile from Dan, despite all the hell-worthy goings on around us, that helped me power through the pain of my broken leg and the torture of spiders crawling up my body. Even despite that and Noah's betrayal and Jane's mocking voice, I was strong.

I was strong enough to power through the pain. I was strong enough to ignore the jabs Jane directed at me - that I wanted Ben to be hurt, that I wanted to be the best, but that it would still never be good enough for /him/. For /Dan/. I was strong enough to say the three words that would finally set me free from that hell: I wasn't scared.

It was Dan who helped me be strong. Not because he gave his quiet strength to me, but because he helped me realize that I had always been that strong, ever since we were kids. And so help me, God, I was strong enough to decide that if we both survived this, I would tell him I loved him. As I was pulled back into the darkness of the basement, the setting of the nightmares of my childhood, I heard Dan scream my name, and something in his voice told me he loved me, too.

As my friends appeared, joining me and a hysterical Ava outside the ruins of Redfield's old house, I waited impatiently for Dan to come out as well. And he did. And as soon as I set my eyes on him, the adrenaline coursing through my veins gave me just enough extra strength to make my way into his embrace before my broken leg completely gave out.

It was then that I realized what I never knew I needed in order to fill that void inside me. It was him. It had always been him. And as our lips met for the very first time - but certainly not the last - that gaping hole inside my chest was finally filled.

#choices #play choices #choices it lives in the woods #it lives in the woods #ilitw #ilitw andy #ilitw dan #andy kang #dan pierce

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dp-pastandpresent · 5 years

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Past and Present: Chapter 34

Danny and Sam were sitting on Clockwork's couch, staring up at the Observant before them, waiting for answers.

"Will you PLEASE just tell us what is happening here?" Sam asked again, as the Observant paced in front of the large screen.

"My dear. What you ask is much harder to answer than you would believe. The story of Clockwork, it dates back eons and would take far too long to tell."

"We have a right to know!" Sam shouted. "We WERE the ones who defeated him, you know!"

The Observant huffed at this. "Only because it has been planned that way since the day Clockwork took his job."

Sam raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, still not willing to give up.

"You mean, EONS AGO, someone decided that Clockwork would control time and that WE would be the ones to end it eventually?"

She looked at Danny, trying to get him to speak up, but he was still a bit shocked to even be in this position.

'Danny, help me here…'

"Well, actually, just him," the Observant said as he pointed to Danny, who was taken aback by the sudden acknowledgement.

"Me? It's always been… me?"

'Something still doesn't add up. How could anyone know so far back that one boy would save them all?'

"Yes and no."

"Which is it?" Sam demanded.

Sensing that he was not going to win the argument with this girl, the ghost in front of them let out a sigh and answered with as little emotion as possible.

"When the Ghost Zone came into existence, shortly after the creation of Earth, we Observants formed a council. Many of us came into being with the vast knowledge of our whole existence. We knew we had to pass on this information, and so we created books upon books of knowledge, many that exist in this realm even today.

"As we were creating these books, the knowledge poured out, some of it coming to us as we wrote. The prophecies were some of these things.

"Yes, there is more than one, please do not ask me to elaborate. For the one that is of importance right now is the one that pertains young Daniel.

"It stated, 'One day there will come a being strong enough to wield the power of both realms. Upon the removal of the cursed Amulet of Aragon, this being will take its true place amongst both humans and ghosts, freeing the Ghost Zone of the dark power that lingers over it, and taking its place as the protector of both realms.'

"At the time of its creation, we did not behold the true meaning, or what that darkness would be, however, we always knew it would be a human who would in some way share powers with ghosts. At what point in time this would happen stayed obscured from us though.

"It wasn't until we stumbled upon a young ghost, one that showed real potential as our protector, that we began to put the pieces together."

"Clockwork…" Danny nearly whispered as the ghost before him paused.

"Yes…"

"You knew he would be the one to…"

"Create the savior? Precisely. But we were still unsure how. All we knew at the time was that this young ghost, wandering through the still very empty zone, unable to control the changes he found himself going through, was the one we needed to watch over the timelines and make sure things played out the way they were supposed to."

"Because that clearly worked," Sam snarked, still frustrated with the role she and Danny been made to play.

"PLEASE GIRL, let me finish!" The Observant was at the end of his wits with Sam, ready to just disappear back to his realm and leave the two of them to figure things out on their own.

"Sam… let him explain… please," Danny muttered, a hard look on his face.

"Fine… continue."

"So, we took him in. Told him it was his destiny to watch over both realms and help those who had passed move onto a world beyond the Ghost Zone. After all, this world was not created to house the dead forever.

"We gave him what he needed: this realm, the screens, the Graveyard, and of course his staff. We trained him to use his powers and to be what he became, passing on as much knowledge as we could and then, when the time was right, allowing him to freely do his job.

"For centuries, he worked without complaint. Helping those who needed it pass onto their next life, all the while watching over the timelines. But we knew it wouldn't last

"When we entrusted him with this realm, we had also included the library, which, at first, he did not know contained his true destiny. It wasn't until things began slowing down that he found the time to look through the books, and in so doing discover the prophecy.

"We knew the prophecy couldn't unfold until he discovered it, but what we didn't know was how obsessed he would become. Soon he lost all interest in helping those in need, instead allowing them to run amuck in the Zone. The screens he had once used to watch over the timelines became nothing more than a device for him to stare at aimlessly, always searching for the ONE.

"It was then that we realized, by creating this being who could control time and allow the prophecy to come true, that we had also created the darkness that same prophecy referred to."

It was Danny's turn to speak up now.

"And you didn't do anything?" He got up from his seat and floated closer to the ghost. "Clearly you have power over him! You couldn't have just ended it then and there?"

"It is more than that. This prophecy was created when our world was born. We couldn't risk not allowing it to play out. We had to keep going, knowing that one day he would discover the savior the prophecy spoke of, and in doing so, end his own reign."

"It just doesn't seem right, allowing someone to take control like that and not giving them any repercussions for their actions."

And now it was Sam's turn to be the voice of reason, for after hearing the full story, she had begun to do some rethinking.

"Danny. I get that you're mad. I was too. But all the graphic novels and legends I've read about in Skulk and Lurk say the same thing: you have to let these prophecies play out, otherwise there are dire consequences."

Danny looked back at Sam, trying to figure out why she was suddenly having a change of heart.

"Besides, if they hadn't done all this, you wouldn't be here and I wouldn't have met you and well…" She blushed.

Danny sighed.

"Ok, I get it. You had to let him reign. But now that reign is over. Does that mean the prophecy is fulfilled?" He looked back to the remaining Observant.

The Observant let out a low chuckle as he watched Danny fall back to his seat.

"Ha! Nary. You see, you may have been able to control your powers when Clockwork needed defeating, but you still have a long way to go, young man."

Danny raised an eyebrow at this.

Seeing the couple's frustration, the Observant turned to face the screens again, willing the largest to turn on before turning back to them with a sigh.

"If you must know, Daniel, there is more to this story than defeating Clockwork."

Danny flies through the air at top speed, chasing after something as he emits green rays from his hands. The subject in question, as it turns out, is the same ghost he had met in the Zone on his way to Clockwork. But this time he's shooting rays at Danny, trying everything to win this battle.

"Welp. You must know how much your pelt is worth! I will get you eventually!"

The screen changed.

Danny is again battling a ghost, this time standing on the ground and watching as the trees around him come to life, the genie ghost behind them growing larger by the second.

"Who the heck wished for evil plants!"

The screen changed.

Amity Park, overgrown with vines, weeds, and flowers, as Danny blasts root after root to defeat their source.

"STOP IT!"

The boy's voice brought them all back to reality as the observant paused the screen on a scene of Danny captured in a thorny vine.

"Had enough yet?" the Observant asked, his robotic voice showing a hint of amusement.

"What does any of this mean?" Danny asked, although he had a feeling he knew the answer.

"This, young man, is your destiny. Don't you see? Your future is more that eating ice cream on a doorstep with the girl. It's protecting your city, those you love. Learning to control your powers and using them for the greater good."

"I've already done that! Stopped fires, caught criminals, done things the police can't," Danny said in a frustrated voice as he got up from his seat. "And what good did it do me?"

"Yes, you did help the local law enforcement. And yes, they expected it and got lethargic BUT you know what else you did? You stopped ghosts. You used those powers that you were given to keep the harmful ones at bay. And now that the portal has been opened, and there is no one to help them move on, they will KEEP COMING."

"And someone has to stop them," Sam whispered.

" The girl is correct!"

Danny looked down at Sam.

"But Sam, you saw the powers I have, what I had to do to defeat HIM. What if I have to do that again and someone gets hurt?"

Before Sam could answer, the Observant spoke up again.

"Yes, someone could get hurt. But that is why you must trust your instincts. When you needed to defeat Clockwork, and your mouth shot out that…"

"Wail. The huge ghostly wail. I didn't even have to think, I just…"

"You just knew. And you will always know. Now that you've found a way to transform at will, your instincts can take control and you'll know what to do," Sam interjected. "And I will be here, to make sure that you don't harm anyone you aren't supposed to."

Danny looked lovingly at Sam, truly realizing how lucky he was to have found her. The way she was willing to stand up for him, throw herself in harm's way. That's what he loved. More than her sense of humor. More than her beauty. More than those deep purple eyes…

"Eyes…" he muttered, rising up again.

"Hmmm?" she questioned.

"You, Mr. Ummmm?"

"Just call me an Observant," the ghost said, a bit of amusement in his voice.

"Ok, Mr. Observant. Can you show me the human world in real time?" Danny asked, urgency in his voice.

"Danny? What's…?" Sam asked.

"I forgot about the Sarah! Tucker! The Fentons!"

Sam slapped her forehead.

"Crap!"

The Observant turned to the screen, allowing it to change again, this time showing the Fentons' living room. Both Danny and Sam let out gasps as they realized how urgently they needed to get back home.

The Fentons were standing, looking down at the ground and the figure below them.

Sarah was on the ground, scooter on the floor behind them.

Just from looking, the group could tell that Sarah wasn't breathing. It wasn't until Tucker ran in that they got confirmation on the situation.

"The ER are on their way, but they don't seem to think they can do anything if her heart has already stopped," Tucker said, nearly breathless.

"She was fine this morning, energetic even. I can't believe she'd just pass out dead like this!" Maddie tried to reason.

"Given everything else we've been through, I'm wondering if this is related," Tucker added.

"You mean she died because something else happened!?" Jack scratched his head in thought.

"Well, she is sort of linked to Danny and Sam. Maybe something happened in there…"

The screen went fuzzy, not allowing the group to see more.

"That's my Grandma! Turn it back on!" Sam demanded, jumping up and almost attacking the Observant.

"I can't dear. Those screens are not designed to show unsure futures."

"Well then, take us home! Let us find a way to save her."

Danny got up as he spoke, finally beginning to realize that his story was indeed not over.

"Easier said than done young man, I can't just open a portal and send you home. I'll have to let you navigate yourself back…"

The couple drooped their heads at this. MORE traveling? Why couldn't they just return to the human realm the easy way?

"All the power in the world and you can't just send us home?" Danny asked, almost pleading.

The head Observant blinked down at the two, who still had pleading looks in their eyes.

"Well…"

The two perked up.

"I cannot send you to another realm. That is a power that no ghost has. BUT I believe I can open a portal near the opening to your world. I have never tried sending a human through though…"

Danny turned to Sam.

"Potentially get lost for eons trying to find a way home, or take the risk and let him send us through his?"

"Gee, what great options," Sam said sarcastically. "When you put it that way, I've taken so many risks already, might as well take more."

They both turned back to the Observant, who turned around and lifted his arms, green light coming from within to create a swirling vortex.

"Make it quick, and Daniel, hold her hand to be safe."

'I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise.'

Danny grabbed Sam's hand and floated them to the front of the vortex. He quickly turned his head to the ghost.

"Thank you. For everything."

"Daniel, as I said, you are far from finished. I am sure we will meet again."

As if pushed by a gust of wind, the two figures felt themselves falling into the abyss of green light.

"After all, there are more prophecies."

A green burst of energy exploded through the air, sending the young woman flying back. Brushing off her skirt, she regained her composure only to see the energy gone and two figures standing where there'd been no one before. The female figure was bent over, almost out of breath, black hair in her face. The male was holding on tight, making sure she was ok. When he finally looked up, the young woman gasped.

"You! I have been waiting by this portal for a long time to talk to you."

Danny flinched, taken unawares by the woman's presence. But upon his own closer inspection he realized that he recognized this woman.

"The dragon…" he muttered quietly, but she still heard him.

"Not anymore, oh great one. For I have not witnessed that part of me since your removal of my amulet. And for that, I am here to thank you."

Sam turned to Danny, who in turn raised an eyebrow, trying to remember all he had done for the woman.

"Ummm, you're welcome?"

"No! Don't you see! You told me to free myself, to confess about our powers. And when I finally did, well…my brother was finally put in his place."

"His place?"

"The dungeons to be exact. He abused his powers. Lost all those he loved and even his reign. You are looking at the new Queen of Eragon." She puffed herself up a bit at this, proud of what she had become.

"So thank you, great one. Our kingdom is forever in your debt."

"Again… you're welcome," he replied, looking around, hoping to spot the portal home.

Sam could sense the awkwardness and decided she should try and help.

"Danny. You saved her realm. YOU. You did something GOOD. Don't you see, this is what he was talking about. This is why you exist."

"Oh yes! Our prophecy. About my amulet. Did it come true, great one?" The woman's eyes widened with curiosity.

Danny smiled a bit at this, beginning to like being called "great one."

"Yes, you could say that… But now, ma'am, I must be finding my way back to the human realm. Can you point me in that direction?"

"Oh, of course. Anything for you! It's right there!" She pointed off to the right, where another green swirl was floating in the zone.

"But be careful, I think I saw another ghost go through earlier…"

Danny looked to Sam, raising an eyebrow, hoping they wouldn't have to deal with another ghost battle that day.

"Danny, we'll be ready for 'em," Sam smiled as they grabbed hands again and turned toward to portal.

"But for now, let's save my grandma!"

The ghost queen seemed confused as the two conversed, but knew that it must be important, for the couple seemed to be in a hurry.

"Good luck oh great one!"

The couple took one last look at the girl before stepping into the portal home, smiles on their faces.

"I hope you make a good queen!"

#danny phantom #sam manson #clockwork #dpau #danny phantom fanfiction #phanfiction #fanfiction

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