#Like he's just a ball of mostly formed ectoplasm on the hunt

[akela-nakamura]

Alone In A Room, for the title game

send me a made-up fic title and I’ll tell you what i would write to go with it:

Okay, okay. I see this two different ways:

First: When a ghost is first formed, it's Lair in the GZ is a single room behind a plain door. It builds itself as the ghost gains strength and younger ghosts have to spend time in their Lairs to regain ectoplasm and "rest" as it were.

Second: When a ghost is forced into it's core, it's like being locked in a room. When they're first forced in, there isn't much around but it doesn't really matter, 'cause they're too tired to be bored. As they regain their strength (and how fast this happens depends on if their core is cared for or is simply left on its own), it builds up. And a ghost can start to feel what's around it. A ghost's ectoplasm is also really malleable when they're in their core, so if they want to change how they look they can do so in their core.

I like the first one better, so this is what I'm thinking:

Danny's only been a halfa for a few weeks when he starts feeling weak. The ghosts he's fighting aren't terrible powerful in the grand scheme of things, but for a young halfa who's still trying to figure out their powers, it's a lot.

Danny also can't understand why he feels so ill, he had been getting stronger, gaining more control but it's like he's hit a wall. Tucker and Sam try to help but they're just as in the dark as Danny is about ghosts and their needs. Sam suggestion hanging out near the portal, Tucker wonders if Danny has to actually eat ectoplasm or something.

At this point, they don't even know what cores are. They're running blind and they're starting to get scared. Maybe there isn't a cure for this, maybe the energy that blasted into Danny during the accident was temporary and it's running out.

Maybe Danny's going to die fully after all. Maybe that's why all the ghosts are gunning for him, he's not supposed to exist.

One night, Danny goes to bed early. He's so tired. There's a weight in his chest and he can feel something stuttering. It's not his heart, but it feels just as important. He feels a little hollow, like he hasn't eaten despite having dinner.

He can't sleep. He's so freaking tired but he can't sleep. It's not enough, it's not what he needs. He works his way down stairs and goes to the lab and it's a little better next to the portal. But it's still not right.

He paces outside the portal for a bit, tired, frustrated, and so so confused. There's something tugging at him, something calling him and he doesn't understand. There's instincts buzzing under his skin and he doesn't know how to interpret them. There's something that has to be found but he has no idea what.

He tries to stick to logic: Fact, going into the GZ alone is dumb, especially when he's this weak. Fact, not telling anyone where he's going is dumber and Jazz will freak. Fact, he doesn't know his way around the Zone, he can't go in without backup. He could run into someone he simply can't fight right now.

As the night drags on, logic--his human logic--slowly starts to lose meaning.

In the end, he's barely able to scribble a note out to Jazz and his friends before he dives into the portal, chasing after something he doesn't understand.

He transforms just before he hits the portal and it's like all thought vanishes. School, Amity, his family, his Obsession--all pale in comparison to what he has to find here, in the Zone.

He's seen the Zone before in brief bursts, but he hasn't ventured very deep yet. He's been too nervous to explore alone and Sam and Tucker can't exactly fly.

None of that matters now, though. He doesn't register anything, his mind is firmly locked on his Lair. There's a beating in his chest that can't be his heart and he feels...driven. There is only one goal and he cannot be distracted.

(He doesn't know it, but no one could find him right now if they wanted to. He's not exactly Phantom right now, he's a baby ghost in need of their Lair.)

He navigates by instinct, feeling the ectoplasmic currants that flow through the Zone and the feel of the larger lairs and kingdoms that dot the Zone.

He finds it and it's like joy. It's like home. It's like belonging.

The door is nondescript but he knows.

It opens for him. When he enters, all the tension in him eases. The pulse in his chest slows and the cycle lengthens, like whatever lies in his chest is slowly drawing energy in. The ectoplasm feels different here, less purposeful, less formed. It's not a fight to pull it in, to use it.

He curls on the floor and finally finally sleeps.

[immortalonus]

Where You Belong: Chapter One.

So in case you guys were wondering where I vanished off to, the answer is mostly work. This chapter also took way, way more brain power than I really intended, so I didn't really have the energy to post much else.

I could probably edit this more, but I swear if I spend one more hour editing this I will go insane, so here it is, chapter one of my first multi-chapter fic in, *checks calendar,* four years!?

Jeez, time really does fly, doesn't it?

Read on AO3

If I were Where I Would be, Then I Would be Where I Am not. But where I am, There I must be. And where I would be, I cannot.

-American Folk Poem.

________________________________________________________

As soon as Valerie had flown out of sight of Plasmius’ portal, she made a point to dump everything he had given her for the trip.

First, the communication devices. She had no desire to talk to anyone, much less the creepy, lying, traitorous ghost-thing masquerading as Vlad Masters. She gave the DALVco edition headset her best fast ball, taking no small satisfaction in watching it break piece by piece as it clattered against the frames of one floating door after another before finally vanishing into the mists below.

If Plasmius wanted to talk to her, he could crawl out of his portal and find her himself. Which he wasn’t going to do, because he had a cover to maintain. After all, what kind of delicate, elderly gentleman would throw himself into a dimension of rarified death? Not Mister Masters, oh no.

Especially not when he had a willing pawn to do it for him.

The more surreptitious listening devices went next. Fat, disgusting, bloated insects they were, bugs in function as much as form.And they were everywhere.

She found them wedged between her armor joints, the soles of her boots, in the crevices of her guns, and, after putting her systems through an intensive self-diagnostic, her hair.

When had he touched her hair?

She made a point to crush them all. Either plucking off the parasites directly, or, in the case of those lodged beneath her suit, pulling them into her storage unit and spitting them back out again into the open atmosphere where they could be destroyed.

She removed everything else Plasmius had given her immediately after: Several days worth of food, a large pop up tent, a sleeping bag, a map, several spare weapons, a well thumbed biography on Vince Lombardi and more spewed out of her storage units like a sickness, purged in gouts down to the waiting abyss.

Any thing he'd handled, all his supplies, every “present” he'd ever bestowed, she made a point to dump them all.

But God, when had he touched her hair?

Once she was finished, it felt almost like a victory. With no material proof of her obligations, it was easy to imagine she was already free.

She would finish this mission on her own. No outside aid, no puppet-masters, no regrets.

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

/Sorrysorry-soverysorry!/

“Shut up!”Valerie had regrets.

/sorrysorrysorry/

So many regrets.

“I said shut up, you stupid bug!”

She emphasized her point by kicking the target of her ire right in the soft parts of its creepy, eye studded thorax.

This was stupid, she was stupid, but more than anything, she was pissed.

Valerie took a few steps closer to her target, gait slightly uneven for the lack of both her usual boots. While she wasn't going to die anytime soon, as the black leather that fit snug as skin across her body, the true barrier against the toxic atmosphere of the Zone, remained fully intact, it didn't stop her from being mad about it.

The bug, which had finally stopped gibbering in that vile, hissing tongue that had become more and more common the deeper she ventured into the pea-soup hellscape otherwise known as the ghost zone, took the opportunity to cower against the calciferous outgrowth that had halted its pitiful attempt at flight from Valerie's relentless pursuit.

She had hunted ghosts stronger and faster than this every day back in Amity, and could not help the faint sensation of disgust that came over her at the sight of a figure so unexpectedly pathetic. Did she appear so weak that this creature, along with the half a dozen or so of its less successful, but no less kleptomaniacally inclined ilk see fit to prey upon her? Did she seem so low indeed, that even the meanest, most beggarly of the Zone's inhabitants should see her as some object to pilfer and mock?

It was the work of a moment to summon her laser cubes, pulling them from the pocket dimension from which they resided to slide noiselessly over to the insect lying prone before her. With a thought, they flew forward, two each to press down on the thing's chitinous skull, heightening the artificial glow of her suit as she did for that extra sense of intimidation.

It was an ability she'd never had the need for back on earth, only to find herself putting it to use with unhappy frequency not a day after she'd set off on her journey.

Everything in the realm of the dead glowed, and the capacity to put off and manipulate one's own aura was a hallmark of the creatures that 'lived' within it. Those that didn't stood out strangely, casting shadows upon themselves and the world in a way that made them an obvious anomaly in the otherwise antumbral reaches of the Zone.

While Valerie didn't enjoy wasting her resources on glowing like she was her very own spook, she also hated wasting time, which advertising her humanity to every ghost that glanced her way very much did; a lesson that she'd learned after fending off an entire assault squad of ghost police, who had chased her for ages while screaming about her criminal possession of so many 'real world objects' within their territory.

That it also made sure any enemies never anticipated her ability to phase through objects came in handy from time to time as well, such as when a would-be thief, for example, tried to duck into a thicket in an effort to snarl its pursuer.

As expected, the bug shuddered in response to the cold touch of the barrel against its skin, curling into itself as it looked up into the dark panel of her faceplate.

Valerie leaned down, pinning it between herself, her guns, and the stony trunk of what, on this particular island, seemed to serve as some kind of tree.

/Alright, Manbug, one more time./ Her voice crackled and popped through her translators, adding even more intimidation to a tone already modulated down to something lower and crueler than her natural snarl. /Where. Did you. Put. My Stuff. /

The insect whimpered a little harder, oozing something suspiciously close to snot from the hole above its writhing mouthparts. It remained otherwise silent, however, as it shook.

Valerie pulled back her leg and kicked it again.

The imitation flesh buckled beneath her toes, causing the creature to squeal, a nonverbal expression of pain peaking just beyond her range of hearing as it flickered invisible, writhing in a hopeless gambit to escape the weapons still clamped against its head.

Funny how ghosts kept so many features they really shouldn't need anymore. Like joints, for example. Was it a subconscious matter, or some kind of deliberate choice, Just one more means to mock the living, their very forms a cruel parody of everything they once had been?

She silenced the voice which whispered how she should know by now, that it wasn't that easy. There were more important things to focus on.

/P-please./

The bug focused its myriad gaze on the huntress' visor, all six limbs twisted over themselves, wrapped tight over its oozing midsection.

/In error, Milor- Milord. Your place, held, not neutral. Shall honor, please. /

It was leaking from the eyes too, now, viscous fluid pouring from its dozens of eyes, wetting it bodily, puddling down onto the dark purple earth, adding to the halo of scattered goods and tchotchkes that had spilled out from the overstuffed bags that it had clung to for dear life even as they toppled, overbalanced from a too-fast turn, dragging the creature headfirst into ruin.

/Mer- mercy./

This wasn't fair. This miserable thing, begging in the dirt like it hadn't gotten anything more than what it deserved.

Valerie grimaced, rubbing the heel of her palm against her faceplate. Phantom's visage, not long past, looked up to her from the depths of her memory, face just as desperate, just as indisputably, distressingly genuine as when she'd first seen it.

“Valerie, You don't want to do this.”

“Like I have a choice, spook.” She muttered.

She took a deep breath, sucking in the same recycled exhalation she'd been breathing for nearly a week now, and took a moment to actually think her situation through.

She wasn't lost. She had no idea where she was, but she wasn't lost: That would imply a level of helplessness she could not bring herself to admit. What little food and water she had brought with her had been eaten a while back, reducing her to scavenge among the portal droppage scattered through those areas not patrolled by mad policemen, hoping she could find something sufficiently sealed against ectoplasmic encroachment to remain edible.

She reconsidered her captive, still trembling on the ground. A ghost zone native, utterly at her mercy, and, by the looks of things, a serial hoarder of goods.

/You want mercy? Fine. But you do what I say, exactly as I say it, M'kay?/

While the guns pinning its head in place were something of an obstacle, the bug did manage a spasmodic sort of jerking motion, forebody pushed back and forth with desperate, eager haste.

/(Enthusiasm,) (enthusiasm,) assent! Lord, generous, gratitude, respect./

“Good, now-”She held out one hand, palm expectant.

/Give 'em back./

It responded slowly, still slobbering at the maw, all eyes fixed on the huntress as it unwound its uppermost limbs, which reached up towards those tattered bundles still clustered fungiform over its heaving thorax, rifling between twine-like bindings for what seemed an age.

Patience had never been a skill of Valerie's, and she found herself torn between wanting the moment to last forever and wishing go faster instead, tightening her mental grip over her laser cubes, fingering the internal triggers in anticipation of some sudden, traitorous motion on the part of her captive.

Ghosts were deceptive, dangerous creatures, except, of course, when they weren't.

Without any ability to tell the difference, she could do nothing but pace at the bars of her patience, waiting for the moment to act.

Finally, a claw submerged itself into one of the parcels, pulling out one boot, and, just beside it, a single leather fold.

This was it. Valerie snatched the wallet from its pincers. The boot was replaceable, her construct engines could make another now, if she wanted to waste the resources for it, but her wallet-She flipped open the small leather parcel, noted immediately that the contents were not any state remotely akin to how she had left them.

/Milord?/

The bug was still subtly trying to wriggle its way out from under her guns. Her systems noted, then deleted, increased energy expenditure from her laser cubes as they were forced to adjust to its motions.

Useless data. A ghost of so low a caliber could never hope to escape so easily.

Debit card-broken, bent until the plastic whitened from an excess of pressure; Dollar bills balled together and crammed into a single pocket, still damp with a kind of ectoplasm that looked disquietingly similar to the slobber still dripping from the mouthparts of the bug before her; Plastic wrappers, spare coins, a concert flyer for a band she'd always wanted to see.

/Ah, Milord? Pardon, Excuse?/

All of it. This vile, twisted excuse for an insect had messed with all of it. It had played with her most important cards and documents like they were toys, then shoved them back in with utter disregard for any sense of their value once it was done.

/Goods, returned, trust?/

Dread crept into her heart as she reached into the backmost pocket of her billfold, the place where she kept the picture of her.

/more goods? Information? Information on goods? Release, please?/

It was shoved in the very bottom of the wallet, balled into the crease where the two halves of leather were joined into one. She pulled it out, fingers shaking only slightly as they smoothed it back into a more flattened form.

The Red Huntress had no face, and never had Valerie been more grateful for that absence than in that moment, when she beheld the true extent of the damage done to Polaroid before her.

Soft white creases were everywhere, shattering the image into isolated fragments of its former self. It had been torn, too, at the edges, a grip too hard, twisting too far, integrity compromised as a result.

The worst of the damage by far, however, were a series of punctures, scattered at random through the center of the photograph, small to medium perforations forming little absences where there had once been trees and grass, where there had been a woman's face. A hole sat primly above her dark neck, arched back into nothing, a yawning gap where once there had been laughter.

The Huntress turned her blank visage back to her captive, who froze in the act of trying to pry her weapons out of position. Cowardly, but expected. Trusting a ghost was a fools game she had no intent on playing.

/Ah, haha, (nervous) (nervous,) (respect.)/ The target pulled its claws back up against itself, fiddling with the tips as it looked up to her absent regard.

/...Milord?/

The Red Huntress had no face, could betray no emotion, could reveal none of the cold black welter that rushed up through the depths of her breast and pressed against her throat. An impassive machine, possessed of a will stripped free of feeling.

No sliver of her intent showed through, no shudder passed from her shaking fingers to her gauntleted hands, not even the psychic senses of a ghost could hope to detect the lava that boiled up from her guts, pressing against her skin in an sheet of living fire even as the pits of her stomach chilled to ice.

The bug was still looking up at her, eyes all expectant, when she commanded her one of her guns to fire.

A bright streak of energy shot through the top of its head, hard pink flash cutting through a wave of green.

It squealed, jerked all six limbs towards the missing portion of its skull in a hopeless effort to stop the thick chunks of ectoplasm from slopping down the side of its face. Valerie brought her foot down at the same moment, crushing its forelimbs down into the dust. Forelimbs tipped with little claws, just large enough to fit the holes in a certain photograph.

/Why!? Ancients, why, why!?/

Why?

“Why the hell not?” she snarled, “Ain't that how it works here?”

If a different ghost wanted to rob her blind every time she tried to sleep, they could. If Valerie wanted to chase down the one that finally succeeded, she could. There were no laws here, there were no rules, there weren't even morals. There was nothing to stop anyone from doing anything, so why should she be the one to hold herself back?

She lifted her foot off its claws, then swung it once again into its thorax, only just crusted over from where she had kicked it before.

It squealed, just like she imagined another ghost would, red eyes wide and frightened, vampiric teeth shattered against her fist, choking as she wrapped her fingers around his blue, blue, skin.

He deserved this, it deserved this, she was in the right. She had been tricked, mislead, mistaken maybe, but she wasn't wrong, she was in the right.

And if there was some dark curl of satisfaction there, a self righteous flame alighted just where she'd been coldest in that moment of hate, then that was proof, wasn't it? Of just how right she was.

She bent down to her target, which had started drooling all over again, ground speckled green and wet as it heaved against itself. It was disgusting enough that she would have shot it in the mouth instead of the head, but she still needed information, which meant it still needed to talk.

It's upper set of antenna had survived the cranial blast, making for an easy handhold as she yanked its drooping head up to face her once again. At the same time, she sent her guns down to its chest, where its energy levels peaked their highest.

Ghosts, much like the cockroaches they resembled, could survive well enough without a head, but none, not one could ever hope to make it without their precious ghostly core.

“Listen up spook.” She hissed. /Here's how this is gonna work. You lie, I shoot. You run, I shoot. Got it?/Its head twitched up and down, the smallest possible motion of assent.

/Good./

This was what it took, when it came to ghosts. Cooperation proceeded pain, loyalty from the threat of it, and mercy not at all.

/We'll start with the questions./

She allowed her guns to charge power, deadly, scintillating hum filling the air with the sound of her malintent.

/I like what I hear, maybe I let you keep talking./

Author's note: If Sam is more pride than wrath, then Val is more wrath than pride, IMO. I've done my best to write her accordingly

[bitch-i-migth-be]

Crash Course | Chapter 03: Ready?

Fandoms: Danny Phantom, Batman,  

Relationships: Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton,

Characters: Danny Fenton, Jazz Fenton, 

Words: 2′246

Tags: BAMF Danny, BAMF Jazz, Sibling bonding, Shenanigans, Swearing

Summary: He swore his sister was trying to make him go into cardiac arrest - considering his halfa status that was quite the accomplishment-

But there was no other explanation to his sister’s stubbornness, and if he knew her at all there was just no talking her down from interning at goddam Arkham.

A/N: I appreciate the comments, guys. :33  Let me know what u think.

CHAPTERS: 1, 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7

Danny might not be the smartest person out there but he sure was crafty as fuck.

He had needed to be even before the ghost entered the picture. Then, after the portal was up and running the habit of thinking on his feet and the fine art of rolling with the punches had been added to his skill set.

So, Danny knew from experience that no matter how good you could get at improvisation, it was always better to prepare beforehand if you had the opportunity. Because if you let something to chance, it would probably come back later to fuck you over. Or some annoying ghost would get in the way out of goddamn nowhere. He could deal with them, but it was just a waste of everyone’s time. Better get going before someone interrupted him.

Normally one small thing or another would backfire anyway because of his salted luck, but he preferred not to poke sleeping dragons when he could.  

Taking into account all of that, he had decided the first order of business in the Fenton Crash Curse for Suicide Missions: Start packing all the shit they would need to take with them.

Because It’s never too early to pack for the road to hell.

Especially if you are already in a hell all of your own.

-.-.-.-

“What do you mean you are coming with me?” Jazz murmured from the threshold of Danny’s room, eyes wide open, as she watched her little brother try to pack all types of random things into suitcases.

Since she had announced at the Fenton Family Dinner her plans of going to Gotham University and accepting an internship at Arkham, Danny had been behaving like he was possessed, which considering the portal in their basement was not that far fetched; he had started carrying around a book-like-journal and would not stop murmuring about survival-of-the-fittest. Jazz was not going to lie, she appreciated the concern but that part was a little bit concerning. Not the survival in general, they had been playing that game since forever in this house, but they had never really needed to write anything down.

Until now, apparently.

It was kind of weird witnessing all this. Weird as in she wasn’t used to him fusing so much over her. A normal amount, yes. But most of the time it was the other way around, she was the big sister after all. Also,  with the ghosts around and him going all hero on their behinds her brother was in dire need of all the support she could dispatch. So, yes, she wasn’t expecting this reaction at all, and she was even less prepared for her brother declaring his intentions of joining her in Gotham.

She hadn’t asked how he was planning on dealing with the ghost problem yet, but considering he was already packing when she, they now, weren’t leaving until the end of the summer Jazz thought her brother must have had something in mind already.

She didn’t even know how they could need some of the things he was putting in there but it appeared like Danny was on a roll and she wasn’t going to be the one stopping such, umh, productivity.

“I said what I said”

Jazz frowned lightly.

“Are mom and dad aware-?”

“I told them I was going to be your assistant with the research; mostly the field part because I don’t think they trust me with the equipment after what happened the last time,” Danny answered while still hunting down for more essential items to put in bags, those things were handy as fuck. “also, get a job or something”

“A job?” jazz raised an eyebrow and leaned against the doorframe.

“It’s on the list,” Danny waved his journal/diary/thing in the air. Huh, so they were survival tips. “considering you are the only one with a scholarship and I´m not going to school anyway it seemed appropriate.”

“excuse me? you are not going to what?”

“May as well-” Seeing his sister’s expression he quickly backtracked, “but I mean, if you are really that opposed there is always online classes”

Danny tried to smile in her sister’s direction, but his nervousness made it come out more like a grimace. He kept trying. Jazz kept staring at him. Danny kept grimacing back.

Then she smiled back. A proper, full toothed smile. Oh fuuck

“I think I can do you one better” And with that, she turned on her heel and left.

Danny blinked two times. one after the other.  

“D-Do me one bet-? Jazz, wait!”

But it was already too late, his sister had another ball to start rolling.

-.-.-.-

Her brother was not stupid.

If her brother choice to appease her by taking online classes had been born merely of a strategic need, and hence the best course of action to take, Jazz wouldn’t have rebuked at all, there were, after all, some pretty good online options that her brother could take. But alas, that was not the real motive of his decision.  

It pained her and enraged her to see people belittle her little brother without even knowing him. See them think they had any right to decide whether he was worth something.

And it nagged at her than even knowing the basics of what was wrong with her brother’s low grades, she couldn’t help him more than she currently did. Not really. Unless she wanted him to end up in the hands of the G.I.W.

Fat chance of that.

But if there was a thing a Fenton was not it was a settler. And like hell she was going to let these people bring her brother down.

The first order of business would be to scout out the G.S.U. properly, some phone calls could prove useful, after all those who search shall find. 

-.-.-.-

When Jazz had retreated to her quarters earlier Dany had been left on his own with an uneasy feeling nagging at his gut. It felt a bit like foreboding.  

Like most things in life that inconvenienced him when it came to family issues he decided to ignore it until it came back to bite him, so he continued with his preparations and eventually took a seat among all the clutter that had become his room. After that, he didn’t have to wait long.

His sister had come back strolling decisively into the room, only pausing briefly to warily give the evil eye to the sheer number of things spread all over the room that appeared to have multiplied since she left the place.

She stopped right in front of her brother’s seated form and trusted her phone into the smallest Fenton’s unsuspecting hands.

“Look! There is still time to apply to a full-ride scholarship at Gotham Academy” Danny blinked up at her without a word, and at his sister’s insistence looked down at the phone to start reading, then he did a double-take and started re-reading.

Jazz had got to be kidding him.

“You want me to apply to some posh elite school?” He looked up incredulously at the redhead “Elite, Jazz? Me? With my grades and the amount of time I would get to study for an entrance exam I would be failing this just by applying.” grumbled the boy.

“That’s the best part.” Said the girl smiling like the Cheshire cat. “This particular exam is practical in engineering”

Danny froze. His eyes shot back to the phone.

“Practical you say?”

“Yes, lately there have been more scholarships granted for demonstrating a great gasp in the practical portions. Gotham is a little, umh, hard to handle, I suppose, and there have been situations in which people with the knowledge to accomplish great things have been turned down because of a lack of proper school background or support. So they decided to start implementing this.” She explained while her little brother continued scanning the document up and down.

Eventually, Danny shook himself back together.

“Ok, look, let’s say I had a shot at this.”

“Which you do-”

“Which I might.” The younger interrupted her, “This still requires to prepare at least three proposals for the faculty’s designated table of judges to evaluate and grade to get the green card, and this is like two weeks -two weeks!- from now, it doesn’t even specify what they are gonna have the applicants doing for the final test. How the fuck am I-?!”

The redhead decided to cut in before he could drive himself into a frenzy.

“Well if you are that sure about joining me then you won’t have a problem acing this, will you?” she smirked, then it softened into something more fond. “I know you can do this Danny, and so do you. And if you are that worried about the time, I can help you, we can start tag teaming together for ways to deal with the ghost from the get-go. It may not be permanent, but it will have to do.”

Her brother started biting his own lower lip and still looked somewhat unsure, so she decided to use the final big gun.

“Did I mention that Gotham Academy is right across the road from Arkham?”

Danny’s shoulder slumped.

“Ughh, fine!”

Jazz beamed down at him.

“I will leave you to it then!”

-.-.-.-

“Also, those things are not going to fit anywhere if you don’t organize them”

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

-.-.-.-

So. Jazz did have a good reason to believe her brother could get the G.A. scholarship.

The Fenton thermos technology was not only useful for capturing ghosts but could also store other things. That’s to say, more tangible things.

And her brother was the one who made it happen.

Danny has been tinkering with his parent’s things a lot more than some people would be comfortable with. The truth is, some of the things Jack and Maddie have invented could be fucking useful for everyday life if you took out most of the ghost shit or rearranged them a bit, it could have gained them a pretty penny, but like we all know the Fentons are not interested in anything if it’s not ectoplasmic.

Danny, on the other hand?

As much as he ends up believing all the bullshit others say about his sister being the only genius child of the family, he had never been afraid of dismantling and mounting up again some of his parents’ equipment. For him, it was not a question of whether or not he was qualified to do so, after growing up watching his parents tinker random machines all over the house he had inevitably started to pick up their ways almost as if via osmosis.

His parents, of course, had never fully noticed the fluffy-sweater clad toddler waddling after them from time to time watching them work, at first this happened when Jazz was otherwise occupied in extracurricular activities and couldn’t keep the boy successfully distracted somewhere else.

If at the time, Jazz had realized what was going on, she may have panicked and stopped her sweetly feral summer child of a brother from getting anywhere near their parents in the middle of a craze. As it was, she had not noticed in those first years, and by the time it had come to her attention even she had to concede that if her little brother had managed his recon missions without no one the wiser - Her brother was sneaky like that -, then he deserved the benefit of the doubt.

And, had that not been enough to convince the big sister, that had been the moment the sudden realization than her brother, unlike her, was more of a hands-on learner hit her full force, which would have been enough to make her relent. Learning was always good in her books.

Later, Danny would find most of the classes being imparted in Casper high boring as fuck. Not necessarily for the subject, but the way they were imparted. The youngest Fenton needed a good explanation along with a hands-on approach applied to something he found interesting to fully commit to something. At school, the most he could get were the theory and the occasional practical classes.

If the classes had been related to something interesting, say, rockets, stars, maybe NASA, it would have been easy to pay his full, unconditional attention to the teachers. But not one of the teachers had bothered to try and link the lessons to the interest of the alumni, not surprising, considering public school stuck to basics and had a timeline to complete and the classroom never seemed to learn things at the same rhythm so concessions had to be met.

It was still boring as fuck. But if he wanted to someday make it into NASA he would have to suck it up and force himself to survive with relatively good notes this torment.

Then the ghost fights had entered the picture and his motive to keep up the grades had all but vanished, and the little time left behind to work with was not enough to make, at least, an average grade. He didn’t have enough reasons to strive for more.

For this though? A new chance far from the ghost and he could keep protecting her sister?

He had the brains. He had the passion. And a good damn motive to drive him forward.

Once he was done, the luggage - and Loony town - wouldn’t even know what hit it.

-.-.-.-

NOTES:

 Also, the thing about Jack & Maddie not trusting Danny with the equipment was one of Danno’s secret tries at messing around with the things. Needless to say, that one time didn’t stay a secret.

Oh well, it was not like he asked for permission in the first place.

-.-.-.-

“fluffy-sweater clad toddler”

Not gonna lie, I made myself crave some cuddles from toddler danno, so. fucking. cute.

There he goeees just waddling like a little duckling asdfghjkl

-.-.-.-

If someone here is a fan of the Gotham Academy Comic I greatly regret -not really- to inform you I’m only taking hostage the place for my evil fanfic purposes. I don’t know if there is going to be references but that particular comic is not the focus of this story, SO. You have been forewarned.

[redrobin-detective]

Danny, Vlad and Half-Ghosts

I've seen many theories on Danny and Vlad's ghost powers so I thought I'd throw my two cents into the ring.

What is a Half Ghost? 

To me, a halfa is a human who was exposed to extreme amounts of ectoplasm which became permanently fused to their DNA and led to the creation of a living ghost. It's debatable on the exact cause but I'd say that both Danny and Vlad started the process of becoming ghosts (due partially to the deadly force of the accident but, more importantly, the ectoplasm facilitating the transformation) when the accident ceased and, against all odds, they survived. But part of them has already started to form a ghost and, since they have all this ectoplasm integrated into their DNA, the partially made ghost is now stable. This ghost half is still a part of the living human and therefore influenced by the humans thoughts and actions making it one of the few ghosts to be truly sentient and autonomous, not driven entirely by instinct or obsession. Think of the 'ghost half' as a mindless ball of clay with the still living human mind able to mold and control it.  

Now you can't get a half ghost with any old accident, it has to be an accident in which the human is exposed to a certain amount of ectoplasm. Any other accident of that level would kill someone for real. There has to be a balance. And you know what? I bet there have been half ghosts before. Natural ghost portals open up all the time in the human realm, I bet some poor fool has occupied the same spot as a manifesting portal before. But those portals are small bursts of random, unrefined ectoplasm. 9/10 times the person dies because of the imbalance, the other 1/10 survives, maybe even becomes a halfa, but are so unstable they probably don't last much longer anyway. Due to the interference of the Fentons, we have man-made portals that can create massive amounts of pure ectoplasm, enough to create a hybrid that is stable. Plus Danny but also Vlad too I bet had exposure over time to ectoplasm which maybe helped increase their resistance to, y'know, actual death.

Now we know Danny was more or less fine after the accident and, by the first month, was easily able to manifest his ghostly form and use his powers (even though he still had no control at that point). We also know Vlad was in the hospital for years after the accident, fanon seems to say between 2-5 years. I think that's a matter of Vlad being hit only in the face with a small portal while Danny had his whole body encased in a massive portal. The differences in ectoplasm levels, plus how well made the portal was, affected the two hybrids differently. I have 0 proof but I theorize it took Vlad years and years to get a decent hold on his powers. He had to actively work at them, maybe expose himself to more ectoplasm to be able to use them. Danny meanwhile was charged up from the moment of the accident and only needed experience to hone his skills. As the series progressed, we begin to see how much more quickly Danny is gaining/learning about his powers and it adds to my theory that, on a basic level, Danny is a much more powerful hybrid than Vlad due to the differing nature of their accidents.

How Can They be Human and Ghost?

I've read so many different theories on how the human half and the ghost half co-exist. Here's my thoughts that no one asked for.

Remember how I said earlier that in the accident, a hybrid is created when a person starts to die, begins to form a ghost but still lives? Yeah, but that ghost was still created and everything that goes with it. Including a lair somewhere in the Ghost Zone which is where the ghost half "hangs out" when it's not being used. I say "hangs out" because the ghost half isn't really sentient, the soul of the person is aware and awake in the human world. The ghost half is more the raw ectoplasmic energy created from the accident that is stored away until it's needed. When the hybrid does call for the energy, what happens is the human body and the ghost body switch places. So while Phantom or Plasmius go off to do their ghost things, their soulless human body is put in a sort of stasis in their ghostly lair.

So what I'm saying is, I think the ghost half and the human half are separate "bodies" but one mind/spirit, therefore, the mind/spirit switches back and forth between existing in a human body or a ghost body. This happens during the transformation between human and ghost forms. The act of switching also promotes healing and rest, when the ghost form is hurt, it is able to recover much more quickly when it is in stasis in the Ghost Zone. The human half, not sustained on ectoplasm, does not receive much benefit from the switch but may report feeling physically more rested. Because they are basically separate entities, battle wounds on the ghost half usually don't appear on the human and vice versa. Hybrids, still connected to their other form no matter what body they wear, usually will feel the pain from injuries when they switch back even if there's no sign of injury.

How do they Overlap?

There is significant overlap as the human/ghost half are not truly pure. The human body will be much cooler than normal, an effect of the ectoplasm in their DNA, bordering on the hypothermic level but not low enough to disrupt normal human processes. The human body still is alive and trying to maintain itself, despite being separate, the body sees the ghost half as part of itself and tries to maintain it therefore requiring more energy. Hybrids can convert some human energy (food/sleep) into ghost energy but not all. Ghosts are fueled by ectoplasm and emotion. Hybrids are stable and can exist in the human world, absorbing atmospheric ectoplasm. Danny and Vlad's ability to remain stable despite massive energy drain and rely on multiple sources of energy means their powers grow very quickly and, beyond that, can outlast most ghosts in fights. The human has access to some of the basic ghost powers through the small amounts of circulating ectoplasm in their blood. Anything other than the easiest of powers (invisible/intangible/small blasts) requires transitioning to the ghost form. However, while the human body is still mortal, it's much stronger, faster, more durable and heals quicker than a normal human.

Meanwhile, the ghost half is much more solid than a regular ghost. Because it's not fully detatched from the world, a hybrid is more open to true physical injury than a normal ghost which requires more recovery time. Again, because of this, they're also more stable and will not disappear out if too drained but merely revert to human form. The ghost form also does have a heartbeat and does breathe, but not like a human. The human body is in stasis in the Ghost Zone but it's still alive and still needs to function. The ghost body will breathe in air and circulate oxygen for the body in the Ghost Zone but at a much slower rate than a normal human as the body is a lower energy demand as it's "hibernating", for lack of better word. If the ghost is interrupted from these activities (IE prevented from breathing) the hybrid will revert back to it's human form. In fact the ghost body has the basic layout of a human with a semi solid skeleton and organs. They don't quite work as they would in a human but serve as a temporary bridge to maintain function for the human half. Again, despite being in a ghost body, the hybrid is fully cognizant as if alive and not as mindless or obsessive as some ghosts. They are swayed by ghostly instincts but it's something they can override with reason if they truly desire. The hybrid is immediately identifiable by any ghost, they carry a spark of life in them that stands out like a beacon even in ghost form.

Advantages and Disadvantages

Because of this set-up, we have certain advantages/disadvantages to human and ghost forms. For example, the ghost form cannot travel through ghost shields because they carry too much ectoplasm on them to pass. However, once they switch to human form, their level of ectoplasm is low enough that they can slip through. They are also able to phase through objects in the Ghost Zone easily if they switch to human form. One problem is that they do carry just enough ectoplasm on them in human form that they will be affected by ghost hunting equipment. The damage is less severe if they are in human form, and thus, have less ectoplasm in them to react but in ghost form they are very susceptible. Trackers tend to be the most sensitive to ectoplasm and will be able to find the hybrid no matter the form. They are however able to overcome some ghost deterrents (IE Freakshow's Staff) due to their human half. 

As the halfa is technically two bodies, it requires much more energy to sustain which can get quite demanding. The human thrives on food, sleep etc while the ghost requires ambient ectoplasm. Some powerful ghosts can even gain energy from human thoughts or emotions. While the hybrid can absorb ectoplasm in both forms, it's more efficient in their ghostly form and even more so in the Ghost Zone. However, the ghost cannot eat or sleep for the human half as they can only 'maintain' the existing biological functions the ghost physically does not have. This energy use is higher when ghost powers are used frequently. Therefore the hybrid must get a good amount of food and sleep as well as ectoplasm in order to maintain their health. Also the very existence of the hybrid is defying nature and balance on a fine line. If a hybrid is made and is stable, they'll generally stay that way but if they slip out of their homeostasis, slip into one half or another too much then there is a chance they'll become unstable and the human part of the hybrid will die.

Other Tidbits

- The human form is made up of mostly blood (~85%) with small amounts of ectoplasm (~15%) circulating at all times. The reverse is true for the ghost form. The difference between normal human/ghost 'blood' is not immediately noticeable if cut but upon closer examination one can find the peculiarities. The hybrid is so specific, they cannot give or receive blood/ectoplasm transfusions but luckily are quick healers so they rarely need one.

- Once a stable Halfa is made, the ghost half is nearly impossible to destroy. It's one reason Halfas are so much stronger than most ghosts and are able to advance their powers more quickly. Most ghosts put most of their energy into maintaining their form, especially when in the real world, and thus have less energy for attacks and such. But a halfa, fundamentally, is built around the organic, solid human and doesn't have to worry about maintaining stability and can put most of their energy into their powers. In addition, Halfas are able to absorb ectoplasm present in the real world and also gain minimal energy from human means (food/sleep) which means, even a newly formed hybrid with no grasp of their powers is more powerful/stable than most ghosts.

- Ectoplasm naturally exists at colder temperatures and therefore makes fevers very dangerous for hybrids. Hybrids are generally more immune to human illnesses due to bacteria/viruses not being able to live in their hypothermic environment but they are capable of becoming ill and it's usually harmful. They'll usually be sick twice as long as a human and, as long as they maintain a higher than normal temperature, are at risk for upsetting the delicate balance that keeps them alive. Hybrid ectoplasm is also special since it needs to maintain a warmer temperature than normal to accommodate the living human. Ectoplasm from the hybrid almost immediately sublimates if separated from the hybrid and it can even damage other ghosts.

- Danielle is not a true hybrid. She's a ghost who can mimic being human. She and the other clones were created from experiments with Danny's ectoplasm. These clones have 'organs' that look like a humans but in reality are just faking it (IE Dani will breathe in oxygen but not use it, she breathes out the same O2 amount). They themselves are a new type of hybrid, a ghost that's been genetically engineered to appear human. As such, Dani won't age unless she wills her body to change and is much less vulnerable to physically injury since she's not technically human. She is, like other ghosts, much more susceptible to destabilization due to not being centered around a stable organic form. Despite her state, she's sentient and aware and could be the start of a new offshoot species of ghost.  

-  A stable hybrid will grow and die just like any other human. Their physical body will age slightly slower than normal but they'll have approximately a normal human lifespan due to their human brains. Time of death really depends on how well-integrated the human/ghost are for example Vlad's accident was not as complete as Danny's and I feel he would pass on earlier (60-70) due to natural breakdown. A hybrid also has the option of moving on after death. But the residual ectoplasmic energy from the ghost half will be leftover in the Zone but much, much weaker and generally not sentient at all, just a floating blob.

- Expanding further, the hybrid CAN die. They're not immortal or invulnerable or anything. There is a possibility for prolonged (or decreased) lifespan and while the hybrid is more resistant to injury, anything fatal will kill them proper. However, mortal wounds for a human may not be mortal for a hybrid due to their accelerated healing factor. The ghost half heals much more quickly than the human half but the hybrid can recover from near fatal wounds that could kill anyone else.

- Each ghost generally has a unique ghost core, hybrids are the same. No one knows what determines what kind of core a ghost/hybrid will develop. Danny seems to have an ice core while it's speculated Vlad has an electric core. This is what is created during the initial accident to create the hybrid and is what fuels and stabilizes the ghost half. Each core has properties unique to itself, such as Danny's ghost sense/ice powers and Vlad's electrical attacks.

- Hybrids, once created, cannot become fully human again. The human/ghost parts have become fused down to the molecular level. You can separate bits of the energy (Identity Crisis) but the ghost/human halves are still fundamentally connected. Though people may try to completely separate the human from the ectoplasmic components, it would only result in the hybrid dying due to the shock at the loss of part of it's soul.

- Hybrids are 100% alive just not fully human anymore. They are living human beings that grow and consume energy but have become irreversibly bound to ectoplasm which allows them to manifest ghostly powers/forms. They are able to switch back and forth between human and ghost form through the bond created by their human/ectoplasmic DNA.