So I read a prompt about how Wonder Woman found Danny in a trash can (don’t remember which one) and I was bored.
So I took that lil info and made it into an AU.
So basically, Danny get yeeted into this unknown universe and has no where to live. And no where to live means no money. No money means no food. No food means Danny can’t keep his human half sustained.
So what does he do?
Decides to not change into a human and live in a trash can.
Yes you heard that right, live in a trash can.
Because he’s a ghost, he doesn’t have to worry about the germs and stuff. But that doesn’t mean he lives in just any trash can! He lives in a clean one ☝️
AND he also decorated it with his name so other people know it’s his!
And so Danny has been here for a while now and realizes
Holy shit there’s hero’s here- you know what, why doesn’t he have hero’s back home?!
And being minorly annoyed jealous (but he’s never admitting that)he thought:
Well since there’s hero’s here already, guess I’m not needed.
.
.
.
Good. I’m tired af
And so Danny caries on his life, being content with his trash can and scaring whoever comes into his alley. It’s fun. Sure he sometimes needs to ugh overshadow people to feed his human side, but other than that.
It’s going great.
But Danny doesn’t realize that with Amity gone (or smth, you choose) which was his haunt, he slowly makes the trash can into his new haunt.
And slowly but surely, Danny’s beloved haunt trash can starts to become other worldly kinda.
Yk because of the ectoplasm.
So now Danny’s lovely trash can haunt has more space inside and- Hey Danny can actually sleep in it better!! And he got some company too!
In the form of blob ghosts.
Two actually.
They keep his trash can clean and help purifying some corrupted ectoplasm that he finds. Because for some reason this universe’s ectoplasm seems half way artificial and tastes a bit weird. Which is where the blob ghosts help out in.
Everything was great.
Danny was loving the trash can life style.
He has two blob ghosts friends. Which he named Sam and Tucker, and yea they couldn’t talk but that was fine.
He wasn’t lonely, he wasn’t. He had two very much talking friends like Sam and Tucker.
However one day two weirdly dressed people- oh they were hero’s.
Well anyway they found him, one woman stripper and one furry guy.
But it was on accident! He was just peaking out of his beloved haunt trash can, and they spotted him.
He stared, they stared back.
Then the woman stripper asked him questions, even when he said:
“Don’t mind me, have a nice day!”
But they just kept bother him and giving him weird looks and glances.
Which- rude.
Didn’t they see his mark on his haunt trash can? Obviously it means it’s his home, so they shouldn’t be bothering him still. He’s safe as can be.
Plus.
It’s not like he’s looking at them in suspicion and weirdness, I mean look at them! What kinda cheep knock off vampire fury mix and American stripper style clothing are those!
They should mind their own business!
———
Just a silly lil drawing of this lmao, don’t mind me.
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If I Should Stay
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
He’s staring at him.
Steve Harrington is staring at Eddie Munson.
The thing is, people don’t just stare at Eddie. Not for any reason that means anything good for Eddie. So when, completely unprompted, the fucking King of Hawkins High walks up to Eddie and says, “I need to talk to you,” Eddie thinks he’s entirely justified in the squeak he lets out.
“You? Talk? To me?” Wow. Great job, brain.
“Please,” Harrington whispers, and Eddie thinks desperately this must be some kind of joke, except he’s good at reading people, and he knows the desperation in Harrington’s eyes.
“Okay,” he says, stammers. “Um. There- there’s, behind the school, a, uh-”
“Table,” Harrington nods. “That works. Just…” he sighs, rakes a hand through his hair. “Leave the lunchbox at home.”
Eddie’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Then what the fuck do you want with me, dude?”
“I can’t explain. Not here, not now. Just. Please. After school, okay?”
Eddie looks at him. Really looks, studies his face, understands the lines by his eyes, the tightness of his mouth. His heart thumps as he realizes. He’s scared. “Okay,” he says, and means it.
Eddie’s a man of his word, so after school he makes his way to the table, pausing when it comes into view. Harrington’s already there, sitting with his head in his hands. Eddie calls out from a couple of paces away. “You sure you don’t want anything from the lunchbox?”
Harrington jumps, hands up, eyes round. Relaxes a little when he sees Eddie. “No. I- I’m good. I can’t, actually.”
Eddie frowns. “What, like, a sports thing? No one’s gotta know, dude, I’ve never been busted, I can keep a secret.”
Steve gives him a half-smile. “No. It’s- it’s not a sports thing. Just… sit down? And promise to listen?”
“Okay,” Eddie says, because he knows how comforting it can be to just have someone there, and he’s not a dick; clearly Harrington’s going through something. Though why he approached Eddie, of all people, he doesn’t know.
“Okay,” Harrington repeats back, taking a breath before starting. “If I were to tell you I’m from the future, a future in which we know each other, how would you ask me to prove it?”
Eddie blinks. He was ready for a lot of things, but not time travel. “Um. I dunno, man, I haven’t really thought about it.”
He takes another deep breath. “Can I try?”
“To- to prove you’re from the future?”
“Yeah.”
Eddie laughs, a little hysterically. “Man, where the fuck do I get the strain you’re on?”
He blinks. “What?”
Eddie gestures at him. “Come on, man, you have to admit you’re not really making sense here.”
Harrington sighs. Takes another breath. Says, “You live with your uncle Wayne. Your father taught you to hot wire cars when you were nine. You listen to Dio and Metallica and Ozzy Osbourne but your favorite song is I Will Always Love You, by Dolly Parton, because it was your mom’s favorite. The guitar pick you wear around your neck was hers. She taught you guitar. You love The Hobbit. Stop me when I’ve said enough.”
Eddie’s never been more scared in his life. “Listen, man, I dunno where you heard all that-”
“Eddie,” he says, implores, and digs something out of his pocket. Opens his hand to reveal a ring.
A ring Eddie already has on his finger.
“What the fuck,” Eddie whispers. Grabs for the ring before he can tell himself it’s a bad idea. Examines it, sees the dent from where his finger had gotten smashed in a door.
His hands start shaking.
“I’m from 1987,” Steve Harrington says, sure as anything. “And I’m trying to stop something terrible.”
“And what would that be?” Eddie asks, feeling strangely detached from the whole thing.
“Your death,” Steve Harrington says, still sure as anything.
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