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tanglepelt · 1 year

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Run Ghost Run 10

A03 prev next

What have Sam Tucker and Jazz been up to?

Sam was panicking. Danny had left for a council meeting this morning. It was now around 5 p.m. Those meetings never took this long in the human realm.

The longest had been three hours. For them.

Danny says they feel super long back in the realm. With Clockwork as a long-standing member, it wouldn’t be hard to see him messing around. Then again nobody enjoyed these meetings.

Every member hated the meeting except the Observants. They always went the same way. Parties never changed minds most meetings solved nothing, and everyone left without a solution. Only to have to come back for the next meeting for the same thing to happen. Time is nothing for immortal beings, all would rather not sit around doing nothing. That was the observants job.

Once, Danny, has his coronation majority will fall on him. The council was only formed when Pariah was sealed away. A group of ghosts of different backgrounds to keep balance. Danny hadn’t told her the full details, honestly, he probably hardly listened. Danny tended to zone out on those things.

The whole king thing was odd.

Trial by combat isn’t a good way to choose a king.

Only the powerful would be able to lead. Those often only want to get stronger. Absolute power corrupts, a whole leadership based on the premise was doomed.

It was 5:17 on the dot when she got a message.

The council wanted war; Danny said he tried to get them to listen. They didn’t. Danny thanks to clockwork convinced them to give a warning. To the GIW of all people.

The government was going to be the death of them all.

She’s been saying it for years.

At 5:45 p.m. they all glow green. Sam and Tucker had been alone in the theater room. A text to jazz and it happened to her as well. Thankfully she had been in the bathroom.

At 7:15 p.m. the ghost alarm goes off. Lockdowns now mandatory. The GIW and “mayor” masters had made sure they were enforced. Tucker and her at her house. Pretending to have a movie night.

Tucker gets grilled by her parents. They didn’t want him there in a lockdown. They can’t do much.

So, she waits.

An hour passes. No word

Tucker finally escapes the grilling of her parents they wait some more.

It was 9 p.m. no word from Danny. It’s now after curfew. Still stuck at her house. Still on lockdown.

No ghost had attacked. None of their equipment had been set off. So why was the alarm sounding? Why did the Fenton parents set it off?

Stuck sitting here going insane. No word nothing.

Maybe he just forgot. A call and text go unanswered.

Jazz wasn’t even home for them to check with her. She had been away for the night a tutoring session gone long. The parents offered her to stay the night when the ghost alarm went off. She couldn’t get out of there. Curse the curfew and lockdowns. Not expected back until around noon the next day. Longer than 24 hours after he disappeared.

Still, they texted her.

Jazz was going to hit home when she could. The parents of who she was tutoring were guarding the door. Just like how Gram was watching them.

The night passed too slowly.

Jazz texted them back at 6:05. 5 minimum after curfew.

He’s not here.

They had to find him.

Tucker knows he’s a good hacker, good reprogramming, and a good coder.

He knows he can hack the Fenton stuff well. He often overrides their security to make Danny’s life easy. Disengaging the security system, wiping Danny’s ecto-signature from their devices, and general device management.

All his safety protocols had been removed. Danny’s ecto signature was logged back into the system. The Fenton parents had to of seen them. Any trace of him was gone. All the hints, the bugs anything he ever touched. Software once up to date now older versions. This had to have been an old backup. He had been found out and a restore had been done.

Any trace of the Fenton’s experiments and lab work is long gone.

The security footage in the lab was wiped. All of it is gone. Deleted digitally and the SD card they kept for each day is gone. No record of anything that had occurred in the last week. Not for the nearly 24 hours they hadn’t seen Danny.

The Fenton parents never got rid of anything. Not after the portal incident, the one-to-many close calls with Danny always showed that. Tucker had to constantly loop the footage and change the time stamps. It was never deleted never fully gone. Not even the incident when Mr. Fenton got pantsed by a ghost.

The two Drs. had to have done something.

It was at 10:10 when he had to inform the group, he had nothing.

All he could do was wipe the little information remaining, the ecto-signatures. The items that are meant to track and hunt down. Those remained.

Jazz left for the infinite realm at 10:11. They would know if he made it back. She searched the house even calling her parents. The GAV was gone, and Danny’s room didn’t look slept in.

Was she wrong about their parents?

Her fingerprint unlocked the portal. She left with the speedster. Sam and Tucker staying to look for clues. Looks for his signature to see if they could follow him.

Pandora and Frostbite were by the entrance. Guarding it from Danny’s rogues, a promise they meant to keep. Preventing them from leaving the realm. The two were worried, Jazz promised updates. She left the realm more worried than before.

Pandora and Frostbite wouldn’t stand by idle if they had no word.

There was a war now looming.

Knowing it was only a matter of time. Knowing Danny, the would-be king was missing. Knowing they’ll look for him if he doesn’t show up. Knowing her baby brother was missing.

It was 11:00 am when they went to the go bag. Pulling it from its hiding spot. Jazz made sure the med kit was stocked. Full to the brim with supplies. She put a note on the bag as well. Sam added some cash.

She knew her baby brother.

He’d run if something happened to him. Thinking it would hide the situation from prying eyes. The GIW would chase him down, they had enough force to spare. Ever since those acts, they only got more and more members. It would only be a matter of time before they’d nab a ghost inditing war… If they hadn’t to Danny.

Hopefully, her note would get through to him.

She knew it wouldn’t, but she had to try.

The three regrouped at the nasty burger. Text and calls still going unanswered. The GIW was their next step. It couldn’t just be rushed into, breaking into government labs isn’t always Childs play. Not with the GIW seeming to have better weapons each and every day.

They planned and plotted. Only leaving the nasty burger when it became more crowded. Their tiny corner booth is no longer prime real estate.

Her parent's answer about Danny was concerning. I’m sure he’s fine jazzicans. Just leave it be.

They had done something.

The three went to Tucker's apartment this time. Away from Sam’s home and away from her parents. She wouldn’t leave it be. It was her brother, and she would do whatever she could for him.

Tucker wasn’t having luck getting into the GIW security system. All the spyware they had managed to get in was non-functional. Nothing was coming live.

8:00 was curfew. They’d keep trying until then. At curfew, she would confront her parents. Since 4 p.m. they’d been telling her to come back home. That it was important.

She wasn’t ready to confront them. Not until they knew how to find her brother.

At 7:54 when the communicator went off. It was Danny. He was alive.

The communicator sat left behind at the meeting point. He left them behind just three letters at the rendezvous point.

Each envelope was labeled Jazz, Tucker, and then Sam.

That wouldn’t stop them from finding him. Danny was self-destructive. It was Jazz’s job as an older sister to find him and scold him. Well after making sure he was okay.

He wasn’t.

She knew that.

Jazz could hope he was safe.

The three would get supplies from the lab and head out. Some pure ectoplasm and ecto-dejecto. The specialty meds and thread was made just for him. Nothing else would work. They just had to get past her parents. Sam and Jazz had been bonding science the “girls” night. It would be too hard to believe they got caught up before curfew and all just went to the closest house.

Everyone played the system this way. To “trick” the system.

The Three would find him despite what he wanted. Hiding wouldn’t solve anything. Letters are hidden away in pockets.

They could read them on the road.

Jazz knew something felt off as they got closed. The air was tense. Things were wrong. She ignored it. So did the other two.

They shouldn’t have.

Immediately upon entering the house, the alarm system spoke.

Lockdown protocols engaged.

Her parents rushed up from the lab. Looking frantic and worried. Anti-ecto weapons in hand. The two looked feral and crazed.

“Good, it’s the three of you.”

“There’s no easy way to break this to you guys.”

Jack hissed out “Phantom had been possessing our baby boy for who knows how long.”

With a disgusted tone, Maddie agreed with him “That thing has been disposed of...”

Time froze for Jazz.

Jazz wasn’t listening anymore. All she could do was think about Danny.

What did they do?

There was yelling between Sam, Tucker, and her parents. She only caught keywords.

disposed

possessed

thing

What did they do?

Rage filled her as she thought of the past. Learning his secret, the picnics as kids, fending off dinner together, and all the botched holidays.

She was barely aware of the shouting and the struggle. That Jack was now restricting Sam and Tucker in a “hug”. That Maddie was approaching her.

“WHAT did You” Jazz spit out at them “to my little brother” then lunged at Maddie.

Jazz would like to say she put up a fight. The most she accomplished was pulling the blue hood off Maddie’s face. Only to ultimately have her hands forced behind her back.

Sam and Tucker were oddly calm in Jack's grasp.

The prick in her neck made her realize why. Some type of relaxant.

Brought to the lab a blood test for all. Monitors on their wrists. In case of an escape.

To the shock of none of them, all three of them were contaminated. They’ve known this for ages. Anyone with enough exposure to a portal of the beings of the realms would be exposed. What they have is ingrained into them, something that would never go away.

The majority in the town had exposure. A kind that would dissipate after a day or two of being overshadowed only an hour or two after a major fight. No one else in town that they were aware of where like them.

Jack and Maddie kept talking. It was hard to stay focused on what was going on. She heard them talk about texting Sam and Tucker's parents. A lie about being with Danny. Talks of how to cleanse them all. Talks of how they only had just a tad bit more than them. Talks of if they should hand them over to the GIW.

There was a flash of green. A green rip opened wide through the lab. The room now illuminated in green.

Guards who attacked at the town hall meeting came through a portal. Followed by they eyeballs, the observants. They looked even creepier then Danny had described. Not the one that had been made. The one on lockdown is out of reach to them.

Frostbite and Pandora looking beyond furious. Staring daggers at Jack and Maddie. Eyes that looked ready to kill.

A minor reveal from an observant of all things. The beings Danny always complains about. The know-it-alls who watch everything. The ones who casually mentioned watching Danny but not acting hoping he’d see their way and cease his rebellious streak.

Whatever they had done to him caused this. She didn’t know what.

What did they do?

She heard them talk about a new hunt. An ecto-signature had suddenly been hidden after leaving Amity. The one for Danny, the talks of rounding up those in this realm before they began. She, Tucker, and Sam were the first to be retrieved. More would follow. Talks all around them like nothing was wrong.

Nothing could happen until all entities were found. They would follow the agreement that had been made. The capture of Jack and Maddie would be handled now. It wouldn’t change the results, while they can’t destroy anything they could be kept.

Jack and Maddie use a portable ghost shield to get away. The ghost couldn’t touch them as they left up the stairs out of view.

They’d be kept in the realm in the keep until arrangements could be made. As she was being brought through the portal. Out of the side of her eyes, she saw a figure leaving behind a green glowing sticky note. Hidden right by an ecto-dejecto.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #run ghost run #sam manson #tucker foley #jazz fenton

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ayamari-no-goshi · 2 years

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To Join the Whispers (6)

AO3

Fandoms: Danny Phantom (DP) / DC universe

Summary: THIS IS A CROSSOVER A contact for the Batfamily passed along a rumor that the League of Assassins were investigating a small city called Amity Park. The old man and Tim managed to find evidence of unusual paranormal activity in the town. While they weren’t entirely certain it wasn’t just infested with metas, the locals believed the entities that haunted, for lack of a better word, the town were actual ghosts. If there was one thing Ra’s al Ghul didn’t need to get his grubby hands on, it was ghosts.That’s probably why Jason was doing this. He had the unfortunate luck to experience both death and resurrection in a way he’d never recommend to anyone else.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, and questionable mental health

Parings: none

Notes: originally uploaded to AO3. Cross-posted to tumblr. Jason Todd-centric

As they neared the entrance to the Portal, Danny received an update from Jazz. Apparently, someone tipped off the G.I.W. that something was happening at Masters’ mansion. As a result, their parents had gone to investigate which meant it was safe for them to return to the lab.

However, there was a different problem. Cass and Duke were supposed to be at the manor. Did Masters call that group in retaliation? Or was it just a fluke? Thankfully, those two didn’t show up on any scanners like he did.

Still, it was better to get a report. Dick appeared to already be trying to reach the others with his communicator, but there seemed to be an issue. Frowning, he called out repeatedly, but there didn’t seem to be a response.

Danny noticed the trouble. “You’re not going to have much luck until we get out of here. The ectoplasm causes a lot of interference with normal items. We have specially made communicators for this place.” He tapped at the piece of equipment in his ear.

“Oh…” Dick sent him a look. Bruce was going to be pissed. At least, they hadn’t caused an explosion, this time. That had to count for something. It also brought a question as to how well their masks recorded video of that place. That might work in his favor, at least to hide his scar. He’d forgotten about it in the heat of the moment.

About ten minutes later, Danny maneuvered the Speeder through the Portal and brought it to a gentle stop in the basement. Glad to be out of the world of the dead and away from the unsettling feeling it gave him, Jason exited the craft and stretched.

“Thanks for doing that, Danny.” He turned to watch rings of light wash over the kid, returning him to his human form. “So that’s how that works. Neat.”

“I think ‘neat’ is an understatement.” Dick appeared behind Danny and began working with the communicator again. He winced which meant it was back online and someone knew. Excusing himself, he began a quick explanation as to what happened.

“Will… uh… Nightwing be okay?” Jazz questioned after quickly checking Danny for any injuries. She had been waiting patiently for them. When her brother batted her away, she gave him a warm sisterly smile.

“Yeah, just job stuff. Losing touch with the others doesn’t usually go over well.” Jason gestured to one of the computers. “You mentioned something about Masters?”

“Yeah, come upstairs. It’s all over the news.”

After getting Dick’s attention and gesturing to where he was going, he followed Jazz and a still reserved Danny into the kitchen. A small TV set on the counter showed a man, who introduced himself as the weatherman, reporting a standoff between Masters and several heavily armed men in white suits. The Fenton parents stood behind Vlad, apparently supporting him.

“I’m surprised they haven’t blasted a hole in place yet,” Danny murmured darkly. “Do you know what set them off this time?”

“According to the news, someone called in an anonymous tip about a ghost attack. But Vlad stated he didn’t receive any warnings from his security until the Guys In White showed up.”

“And because it’s the Guys in White, they don’t want to back down until they’ve had a chance to destroy… excuse me, search the place.”

“Yep. I got a text from Sam stating her parents are about to mobilize. They can’t tolerate those idiots being anywhere near their home, especially when there is a high society event happening tonight. She said you and Tucker can stop by to watch, just bring the popcorn.”

A weak chuckle escaped Danny as he took a seat at the table. “Her parents really are a force of nature.”

“So, I have good and bad news.” Both Fenton kids jumped when Dick spoke. The fact he managed to sneak up on a ghost wasn’t lost on him as he gave a mischievous grin.

“Let me guess. Signal and Orphan are safely out, but B has his pants in a bunch because we went offline.”

“You get half credit.”

“Oh? Enlighten me.”

“Yeah, B’s not happy with us, but he’s more irritated that Masters dropped hints that he’s aware we’re looking into him. He also asked about you a couple times.”

“Weird.” After his death, his name became taboo during meetings with Bruce. That continued even after his slow reemergence into society. Now a days, it seemed most folk of high society understood he had been traumatized by something and resigned themselves to gossip instead of directly asking. “Wonder if he knows…” He gestured to himself.

“It’s hard to say. Vlad doesn’t seem to be as sensitive as I am to other ghosts, but if he suspects something, he might try recruiting you too,” Danny mentioned as he stared at his hands.

“Why?”

“Vlad spent twenty years alone,” Jazz hesitantly spoke up when Danny didn’t immediately answer. “He sees Danny like a kindred spirit and covets him… well, at least the idea of him. We’re not sure if he really wants a son or just someone he can completely dominate.”

Dick shared a look with him. “And maybe he thinks Hood would be another potential target?”

“Yeah… It’s…” Danny took a deep breath before continuing. He still wouldn’t look up at them. “It’s hard, you know? Both me and Vlad are stuck between two worlds, and it’s hard to say if we really belong to either of them anymore. It’s lonely. But…” he fiddled with his fingers, “Vlad’s become obsessive about it.”

“And because of the ghostly status, it’s gotten warped, right?” When Danny nodded, Jason did his best to ignore the look he could feel Dick giving him. Loneliness could destroy a person without them being contaminated with ectoplasm. With it possibly warping it, it was unsettling to picture that happening to another person. Sure, he now knew that’s what happened to him, but he was blinded by the green haze of living through it. “And since I’m an unknown, I’m currently an easier target to him.” He grimaced. “I guess I’ll have to wear that stupid belt at the fundraiser.”

That statement caused Danny to perk up a bit. “I thought it shocked you too?”

“It did. Red Robin tinkered with it enough that it now feels more like using a jackhammer than getting tased. The goal is to make sure it won’t hurt you either, but we’ll find out how far he got later tonight.”

“Speaking of which, we should probably go met up with the others.” Dick tapped his ear twice to let him know that the old man wanted them back immediately.

“Before you go,” Jazz spoke slowly as her eyes moved between all three heroes. Her furrowed brows suggested that she knew she was missing part of the conversation, “I think you might want a few things from our weapons’ vault.”

“That’s a good idea,” Danny agreed as he stood up and walked across the kitchen. His motions quickly became more animated even if he made no sound as he moved. “Mom and Dad only showed you what they currently sell.”

“Won’t your parents notice anything’s missing?” Jason had no qualms with getting new weaponry for free, but this didn’t quite feel right.

Jazz patted him on the arm as she followed her brother. “They won’t notice. They end up making so much over the years that it just gets stored away and never thought about again. Most of what Danny uses has been taken from the vault and adjusted by either one of us or one of his friends.”

Surprised Dick didn’t object, Jason followed the Fenton siblings from the room. Free weapons were free weapons after all.

…

After making sure they were both street ready, Jason and Dick made his way back to the others. Canvas bags full of a few new Fenton tech were carried on their backs.

Jack and Maddie really did a lot make a lot of weaponry. After seeing the sheer number of prototypes, Jason really questioned whether or not they were actually paranormal eradicators masquerading as paranormal researchers. Most of what they created were designed to seriously harm or even destroy a ghost. It was unsettling to watch how Danny didn’t change expression as he explained the effects.

One particular gun could even make miniature portals. The fact it even existed was a scientific marvel, but because there was a battery power issue, it had been cast aside for a new product like many others.

Knowing Jason preferred guns, Danny handed him a few rifle and pistol-styled blasters. While they were lighter than what he was used to, their size and shape felt comfortable. They also had the added bonus that their very presence would annoy Bruce.

Danny also packed a few staff-like weapons for Dick and Tim. One of which could even become like a three-sectioned staff which Duke might like. There was even something akin to a sword for Damien. From what he knew, Cass didn’t have a preferred weapon like him and the others, but there was still enough variation that she might find something she liked. Overall, it was a good haul.

But it wasn’t good enough of a haul to wipe off the angry scowl off Bruce’s face when they arrived back in the hotel. Jason just rolled his eyes as he put down his bag of goodies and began sorting through it. He’d prefer to get familiarized with them while he still had some time. Better to know the weapon and its faults beforehand instead of finding out on the fly.

Bruce hovered near his shoulder while he worked. There was a sense of disapproval radiating from the man, but he didn’t say anything. So, to get the man to back off, Jason decided to explain what they were. Only some of Bruce’s disappointment waned.

However, he and the others couldn’t keep away from the new toys for long, especially after Dick unveiled what he had. Damien especially seemed intrigued. That wasn’t too surprising considering the two did have a shared interest in weapons. One of the last times they worked together, he and the twirp did spend some time quality bonding over whether a very nice set of axes would be inappropriate for a mission.

While they decided who took what, Tim and Duke pestered for information regarding what happened with Danny. Babs chimed in from her side and, surprisingly, so did Stephanie. She had a few hours to spare and decided she wanted to watch the circus.

After a quick check, they found that their audio from their trip into the Ghost Zone had been corrupted beyond repair, but the video, while hazy, was mostly intact. Lovely. He wanted that scar to stay a secret.

Dick graciously decided he would explain what couldn’t be heard, but he wanted to know what they had missed before he got into it. According to Bruce, Masters mostly tested the waters regarding business during lunch, but it was his interest in Jason which bristled Bruce. He played it off well, but the man seemed almost hungry for information on the most ‘secretive of the Waynes.’ Tim ended the summary by giving some highlights of Masters trying not to be driven insane by Damian and sharing a video file of the very satisfying way Bruce’s Specter Deflector shocked Vlad when they shook hands.

Duke and Cass were able to get out of Masters’ home just prior to the G.I.W. showing up on the premises. They hadn’t seen evidence of anyone else in the building at the time so the timing of it couldn’t be ruled out as a fluke or purposeful. But they didn’t find evidence of any other person coming or going in that house other than Vlad. It raised some interesting questions as to who maintained the property.

However, they were able to make it down into his lab. Jason examined the stills from his siblings’ gear. The lab held similarities to the Fentons’ regarding the set up and equipment. However, it was larger and almost immaculate. The files the two were able to pull were similar to what Babs already found, but it confirmed Vlad rarely strayed into the tinkering aspects of paranormal science. Instead, he meticulously researched whatever interested him, and that delved into dark corners that none of them expected.

There were records of cloning attempts and how drastically they failed. Those were images Jason never needed to see again. There were also thousands of documents regarding possible ways to subdue and control Danny. With how obsessive the man seemed, it was a surprise he seemed to be reluctant to act. Perhaps that was part of how the ectoplasm affected him which could act in their favor, if he decided to pull something.

Masters also had several files dedicated to known villains, heroes, and neutrals. Most of it tracked alliances, but also meticulously weighed the pros and cons of being involved with them. Notes were made regarding technology or wealth particularly of interest.

Then it was time for Dick to take the stage. He explained what happened with the Fentons and how they traveled to the Ghost Zone while the video feed played on Tim’s laptop. The others openly wondered at the strangeness of the place.

However, that wonder was replaced with horror as they got to the section with Frostbite and the tests. Why couldn’t that part of the video get corrupted? Now Tim and Duke were looking at him with the same pity Dick did. Damian tried to remain neutral, but his eyes had widened, and his jaw had slackened some. A muscle moved in Bruce’s jaw, but his overall expression was blank. While Babs and Stephanie were silent on their end, he could still sense their shock.

Cass, however, hugged him from behind. She didn’t say anything, but the gentle squeeze she gave him let him know she understood. While he still didn’t know what to make of the former assassin at times, she had more emotional intelligence then the rest of them. It made a difference at times like this.

After gently shooing her away, he berated the rest of them. “If you forgot, we have a job to do. Stop with the fucking pity party.”

With that said, Dick continued but soon turned the stage over to Jason so he could make the determination of what to say regarding Frostbite’s explanation. In true fashion, he gave only as much information as believed to be relevant to the situation. In this case, that consisted of letting them know he’d stop falling through things when he left Amity. To avoid others’ annoying looks, Jason kept his eyes on the new weaponry the entire time.

“You’re certain this situation won’t become permanent?” A hard edge crept into Bruce’s tone. The man had a funny way of showing concern.

“It was phrased as unlikely,” Jason set the blaster in his hand down and turned on the chair so he could look Bruce in the eyes. “Best I can tell, as long as I don’t get thrown into a malfunctioning Ghost Portal or back into the Pit, things will go back to normal.” Well, back to his normal minus some Pit madness.

Bruce didn’t need to know that. Having the old man still think his thoughts were clouded at times by the Pit could work in his favor. But there was the lingering issue of whether or not Dick would bring it up. Secrets like that could be used as leverage, and even Dick was known to use information best left alone to call in the occasional favor. Jason would check later. A bribe might be needed.

“Enough worrying about me.” He did his best to ignore the fact his hand vanished from sight as he waved it dismissively. Bruce narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything.

“It would be amazing if I could find a way to replicate this. I’m surprised I can still feel your hand,” Tim murmured as he took the chance to examine the situation close up. He smelled so strongly of coffee, for a moment, Jason wondered if he took a bath in the stuff.

Duke hummed as he also stepped closer. “I can still kind of see it.”

Pulling away from his brother, Jason experimentally opened and closed his still invisible hand before hesitantly checking to see whether it would pass through the table. No intangibility this time. An unpleasant image getting accidentally stuck in the wall or floor flashed across his mind, and he briefly wondered if that ever happened to Danny. “Yeah, definitely solid. Just feels a bit chilled.”

“Maybe a ghost needs to be both invisible and, what did you say Danny called it? Intangible? For me not to be able to detect it? Or maybe I can see it because you’re not a ghost.”

“No idea.” Jason glanced over his shoulder. “Dick, while I work on handling this, bring the others up to speed about what Danny said about Vlad.”

“Thought puns were my thing?” Dick’s grin made Jason want to throw one of the ecto-pistols at him.

“Are you admitting I was funnier on accident than you are when you try?”

Bruce stepped between them when Dick went to retort. “What’s this about Masters?”

After the summary, Bruce openly frowned as he rubbed his chin. For a man who mostly spoke in varying degrees of scowling, this was unusual. Or maybe he was just bothered that someone wanted to try to take away one of his soldiers again.

“The Justice League has spent a great deal of time debating Masters’ motivations and whether or not we should consider him as another Luthor. Other than business deals which primarily focused on building his personal wealth, we had no reports of him doing anything overtly criminal. If his main focus has been simply to build up a way to obtain and keep what he covets, then it explains why he hasn’t been too interested in approaching other parties.”

“We can probably figure he killed those assassins for the same reason.” Tim had lost interest with Jason, who finally managed to get his hand back into the visible spectrum, and turned his attention back to the Spector Deflectors. “If he doesn’t want anyone else to know about this town, the Fentons, or his status, then it would make sense he’d take out anyone he considered a threat to that. Bet he knows our primary focus was Ra’s men which is why we were only warned.”

“You’re calling a horde of ghost animals a warning?” Duke’s eyebrows shot up comically.

Damian tutted. “Have you not learned anything, Thomas? Such tactics are common of the rogues in Gotham.”

“Yeah, but those don’t normally involve rabid undead animals.”

“Would Scarecrow’s fear toxin count?” Dick asked as he crossed his arms and leaned against the nearest wall. It was enough of a valid question to start a debate that would look like an argument to any onlooker.

A long-suffering sigh escaped Bruce. “Enough. We need to begin preparations for tonight. While it seems unlikely we’ll encounter any immediate threat from the League, we should remain on guard. There is a chance for retaliation against Masters.”

“How likely do we think Ra’s knows that Masters is a ghost?” Dick tumbled across the room so he could steal one of the plush chairs. “If we could barely find any evidence of what he was, I doubt that he would.”

“Perhaps Grandfather knows of Plasmius but believes he is simply working with Masters,” Damian suggested.

“That could be,” Bruce agreed. “If that’s the case, if there is a retaliation, it might be a more public attack. They’d use the crowd to make it less likely Plasmius would interfere.”

“Even though that wouldn’t help them,” Jason added. “Remember, Danny mentioned Masters can make multiple copies of himself. If they do try anything, it’s just going to backfire on them. What the? Damnit!” As a brief moment of intangibility in his legs nearly caused him to fall off his chair, a nasty thought resurfaced.

Ignoring the laughter on the com from Stephanie, Jason continued to entertain that thought. “Is it possible… What if there have been others who tried to investigate here, and Masters just…” He stared at his hands. “Just pulled them into the ground and left them there.”

Stunned silence filled the room. “We don’t have many reports of people disappearing around Masters,” Bruce replied slowly as he grabbed his computer and began typing. “But there have been a few, and there haven’t been any physical evidence of it. I’d like to confirm it myself… but, that may have to wait.” He grabbed his Justice League communicator and stepped into the other room.

“Wanna bet he’s asking Supes for a favor?”

Jason rolled his eyes at Dick. “Seeing as he’s one of the few people we know with x-ray vision, that’s a pretty good guess.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing you guys talk about the big guy like that.” With how new he was, Duke still got starstruck around the other capes. In all honesty, Jason wasn’t sure how many of the others Duke met yet.

That reminded him; Superman once signed a piece of metal for him. Was that still at the cave? When he had time, he should go see if he could find it.

“Jason, you might be on to something,” Babs interrupted from her side. “Our contacts have given us a few reports of missing henchmen around Amity. I have enough info on some of them that I should be able to find them no matter where they are, but I can’t. They’re just gone.”

“Oh, it looks like one of them might have a tale for us. Can’t wait to hear this. Hopefully, it’ll be more entertaining than the usual blathering.” That was Stephanie’s way of excusing herself.

He rubbed his face as he and the others waited for Bruce and Stephanie’s results. This train of thought was something he didn’t want to have. Masters could possibly just stick someone in concrete or the ground, possibly while they were still alive, and just forget about them! What would that do to someone? Would it be an instant death? Or would they slowly suffocate?

God, he might be able to do the same to someone if this situation of his continued. That was the last thing someone afflicted Pit Madness should have access to.

When he next saw Danny, he was going to have to break down and ask the kid to keep an eye on him. While he didn’t have too many lines he wouldn’t cross, this was one of them.

Bruce stepped back into the room. “Clark was able to quickly travel to three of locations of interest. He confirmed the presence of bodies in the concrete of certain buildings. He’s currently notifying the authorities.” He glanced at Jason before continuing. “We’re going to air on the side of caution and assume ghosts can possess any living creature. We also do not know how far above the city ghosts can safely travel. Any confirmation in this location will have to be made by one of us.”

A Kryptonian being controlled by a normal villain was terrifying enough. They really didn’t need one controlled by a ghost.

“I shouldn’t be surprised Todd of all people considered such an uncouth manner of burial.”

Jason ignored the dig from the demon spawn. Yeah, he did kind of earn his reputation, but did they really think he’d pull something like that? Even if Vlad killed them first and then placed them in the ground, being forgotten was just as unsettling.

“Actually, how did you come up with that?” He was surprised Duke had the nerve to ask.

“Wondered if it was possible to get stuck in something if intangibility wore off.”

Surprise fluttered across the room. “I guess that would be something you have to worry about.” Pity crept back into Dick’s voice.

“So guys, I have a story for you!” Stephanie’s chipper voice returned to the coms.

=========================================

Notes:

Did you know an AK-47 is heavier than a longsword? Longswords tend to be 2-4lbs (1-2kg). AKs start around 6.5lbs. Adding wooden 'furniture' to the butt stock and heatshields can make it closer to 10lbs. Dunno if I should add this, but I will anyways. The great majority of civilian AKs in the US are semi-auto only which is due to legality/specific licensing. The only way to get somewhat close to a full-auto with the average civilian AK is to use a bumpstock - those are illegal, btw.

The metal on the barrel can get hot enough to cook bacon after a while... and getting hit by an ejected bullet casing that came in contact with that hot barrel can burn you. If you are using one and putting 100+ rounds through it, it should be allowed to cool down before being stored. Also trying to aim with iron sights when you have scarring on your dominate eye is a pain. (I will not confirm or deny whether or not I was doing in person research over the weekend)

Comic related - there is scene where you see Jason and Damian in the background examining an ax while Tim is explaining something to everyone else.

Bruce does canonically refer to the batfam as his soldiers at times, and the mentality behind that and how it affects a child/teen is something that bothers Jason post-resurrection.

I don't know where it's mentioned in the comics, but I do have a Superman encyclopedia that mentions that Supes gave Jason that autograph.

As a side note, I have a preference for unintentional puns which did happen in this instance. I caught it, made a face, and decided to roll with it.

#To Join the Whispers #Danny Phantom #dp #dp au #dp crossover #Danny Fenton #Vlad Masters #Vlad Plasmius #still self-indulgent #this chapter did hate me a bit though

37 notes · View notes

dreamwraith · 3 years

Text

Teleport

Summary: Danny finally learned how to teleport, but where is the 'off' switch? Pairings: Hints of Sam crushing on Danny Warnings: Danny accidentally teleports into the girl’s locker room, but only for a few seconds; he’s as startled as they are. Danny and Tucker have a no-homo thing going on, they should probably just hug it out already.

On Ao3

"Hey! Sam! Sam, wait up!"

Sam glanced over her shoulder. When she saw Tucker chasing after her with an anxious look on his face, she stopped walking down the sidewalk. Tucker was able to reach her in no time, but he had to bend over and gulp in large breaths afterward.

"Something wrong, Tucker?" she asked after giving him a few seconds to catch his breath. "I thought I was meeting you and Danny at school today?"

"Well, yeah," Tucker panted, "that was the plan, but…Have you seen Danny?"

She raised an eyebrow. "No. Why? Did something happen? Is he in trouble?"

Tucker waved his hand, chuckling between gasps. "No…well, yes…well, kind of…"

"Tucker…"

"No, he isn't in any real danger. Yes, his secret may be in jeopardy."

Sam widened her eyes. "His secret might be in what? What happened exactly?"

Tucker stood up straight, using his beret to wipe his sweaty forehead. "Well, this morning, while Danny and I were walking to school, he had a breakthrough on teleporting. He practiced it a couple times by teleporting up and down the sidewalk when no one was around, getting farther and farther away. He was getting really good at it!"

"O-kay," Sam said slowly, "so somebody saw him doing this?"

"Um. No."

"What went wrong then?"

"Well, we were almost to school, so he changed back to Fenton. But a few seconds after he did, he disappeared and—"

POP!

"Tucker!" Danny jumped on Tucker. His best friend screamed and would have shot three feet in the air if Danny's Hug of Death was any less secure. "Finally! I've been trying to get back to you for who knows how long now! Oh, hey, Sam! Wait, where'd you come from?" He loosened his hold on the trembling Tucker and looked around. "This isn't where I left you, Tuck…"

"He came to find me after you apparently disappeared," Sam explained for their shell-shocked friend. "Danny, what's going on? Are—"

"I can't stop teleporting, Sam!" Danny all but shouted, unwrapping one arm from around Tucker so he could wave it around for emphasis. "One minute I'm walking peacefully down the sidewalk, the next I'm in my room! So far I've teleported to school three times, to the Ghost Zone twice, my room five times, yours once, Tucker's three, Vlad's house one time too many, and once I somehow ended up, like, fifty feet in the air! I can't control it!" He released Tucker, and latched onto Sam's shoulders, earning a surprised gasp from the Goth. "Make it stop, Sam! I can't take it anymore!"

"Danny, calm down!" She brushed Danny's hands off her shoulders, but he quickly grabbed her wrists. She scowled. "Danny, let go of me before I show a very incriminating photo of you and Tucker to Jazz."

Danny's hands flew away from Sam like she was an evil ghost in disguise. "I thought you burned that!" He hesitated before giving Tucker a one-armed hug again.

Sam smirked. "Why would I get rid of perfectly good blackmail material? Is there a reason you keep grabbing onto us, Danny?"

"Yeah, dude," Tucker said, finally regaining his wits enough to eye his strange friend. "It's getting awkward."

"I am being teleported all over the place without my consent," Danny reminded them, "can't I get a little sympathy from you guys?" They gave him bland, completely unsympathetic looks. "Alright, fine. By holding onto you stationary people, I'm hoping you will anchor me and stop me from teleporting."

"Wouldn't we just teleport with you though?" Sam asked.

Tucker's eyes grew large and he struggled against Danny's hold, but even in human form Danny was stronger than him.

"No," Danny grunted, "because it takes a lot of control to be able to teleport more than one person, and clearly I don't posses any control over this, whatsoever."

Tucker relaxed but his nose wrinkled. "It still feels awkward, Danny. Go hug, Sam."

"I'm not hugging you," Danny protested. "This is a manly arm grip!"

"It doesn't feel very manly."

"Doesn't look like it either," Sam said, smirking.

Danny huffed. "Fine." He dragged Tucker closer to Sam and then threw his other arm around her neck before she could protest. Sam gasped and struggled, upset—if her red face was anything to go by—but Danny started walking, and his friends were forced to follow. "Alright! Now this is teamwork!"

"More like kidnapping!" Sam shouted.

Tucker teased, "You know you like it, Sam."

"Oh, yeah, I just love to be held against my will."

"It's only until this stops," Danny tried to reason.

"Oh? And when will that be?"

"Uh…I don't know…"

She sighed, resigned. "This all started after you changed back into Danny Fenton, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, maybe you'll have more control of it if you're in your ghost form. Seems to me your ghost half would have more control over your powers than your human half would."

Danny hung his head, wishing he could face-palm without losing his anchors. "I should have thought of that…"

"That's what I'm here for. Now hurry up and change while the streets are empty."

Danny nodded, and in a flash of light, he became Amity Park's number one ghostly hero.

After a few seconds, Sam cleared her throat. "You'll have to let go of us to test this, Danny…"

Danny flinched. "B-but what if it doesn't work and I start teleporting like crazy again?"

"Then we'll just have to think of something else!" Sam hissed, "Now let go of us before somebody sees Danny Phantom hanging out with Danny Fenton's friends!"

Danny grimaced. He slowly, very slowly, released his best friends. They walked a few steps farther ahead before stopping and facing Danny again. He had his eyes pinched shut and his hands fisted at his sides.

"Did I teleport?" he asked, keeping his eyes sealed.

"No." Tucker chuckled. "But you look constipated. Loosen up, dude."

Danny cracked an eye open, but upon seeing the same setting as before, he grinned, and jumped in place. "Alright! Way to go, Sam!" He went to high five her, but seconds away from making contact, Danny became consumed by green mist. The mist disappeared along with Danny, followed by a popping sound.

Sam lowered her hand slowly, and exchanged glances with Tucker. "Uh, I guess it didn't work…"

Tucker sighed. "We might as well get to school, Sam. He's not going to show up here any time soon…"

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

POP!

"Paradise Lost!"

Danny's momentum carried him through the motion of the high-five, but because Sam's hand wasn't there to meet his, his swat carried into a somersault in midair. "Whoa!" He righted himself and jerked his head from side to side. The faces staring up at him were familiar, but the location wasn't since only teachers and their favorites were allowed inside the teacher's lounge.

Danny laughed nervously. "Um, uh, whoops?"

Mr. Lancer was the first to regain his composure. He stood up and fixed his tie in a nervous habit. "Mr. …Phantom, what is the meaning of this?" Sweat noticeably broke out over his forehead.

Danny flushed. "Um, I'm having a few technical issues with my powers…" He cleared his throat and floated with his back straight, adopting his 'hero' voice. "Sorry for the inconvenience, citizens. I'll just be going…"

But after a few seconds, Danny still floated in place above their table, staring fixedly into space. The teachers looked at each other in confusion. The Art teacher pulled out a sketch pad and started sketching the focused Ghost Boy in profile.

"…Any second now…"

If they had crickets in the staff lounge, they'd be chirping.

"…Any second…"

Mr. Felucca stepped forward, his index finger poised in question. "What power are you having difficulties with, Mr. Ghost Boy? As a scientist, perhaps I can be of assistance."

Danny grimaced. "Uh, actually—"

Ms. Tetslaff slammed a fist on the table, and the sudden violence made Danny start in surprise. "If it's power he's having trouble with, it's me he should be coming to for help! I'll whip him into shape!"

He winced, and drifted away from her. "Uh, it's not really a physical power—"

"I have studied many classical stories that teach great, historical lessons," Mr. Lancer said. "Perhaps one of those will be of some use to you, Mr. Phantom?"

"Thanks, but I don't—"

The Mythology teacher scoffed. "Your literature is of no use to a being of exponential power. My myths have way more value to him than your 'fiction'."

"I don't need—"

The Psychology teacher snapped her fingers. "It may be psychological! Please feel free to tell me all about your problems. I'm here to help!"

"I don't have a psychological issue! Why does everyone always think that?"

Ms. Loretta gazed at Danny's skinny body with a critical eye. "Perhaps it has something to do with malnourishment. Do ghosts have to eat? I can make you something, boy."

"…Uh…no…"

The Government teacher trembled in his seat, staring up at Danny in fear. "W-we should call somebody about this! Call the Fentons! Call the Guys in White! They'll know what to do!"

The Art teacher reached out and pinched a fold of Danny's jumpsuit. "Is this latex?"

"Hey!" Danny knocked his hand away and floated a few paces away from him. "No touching!"

"We should give him a physical!"

"He needs to learn a moral lesson!"

"What he needs is more meat on his bones!"

"Oh, how am I going to capture that glow…"

"Something must be wrong with the inner workings of his mind!"

"The FENTONS!"

"Perhaps it is his molecular structure that is causing the problem!"

"QUIET!" Danny shouted. The teachers instantly quieted. "There is nothing wrong with my body, my mind, or my morals, alright? I just developed a new power and I'm having some difficulty controlling it. That's all!"

The teachers backed away from the panting ghost boy.

Mr. Felucca was the first to gather his courage. He asked, "What kind of power?"

Danny relaxed. "Teleport—"

POP!

The teachers gasped, and stared at the spot where the Ghost Boy had once been.

"NOOO!" the Art teacher cried, and threw down his half-complete sketch. "I was so close!"

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

POP!

"—ation."

"Breach in Sector 8! We have a breach in Sector 8!"

Before Danny had a chance to gather his bearings, several ghost nets crashed into him and bound him to the floor. Where the net touched him, little bolts of electricity shot into his system like static jumping to a doorknob. Danny growled and struggled against the painful bindings, but the whirring of a ghost gun made him freeze. He looked up into the tinted sunglasses of a GiW operative.

"D-Don't move, Phantom!"

Danny's eyes half-lidded in boredom. "Oh great. The Mr. Clean Groupies…"

"Quiet, ghost," another agent ordered. "We have you surrounded."

Danny looked past the two standing over him. "Let me guess, the reinforcements are invisible?"

Danny wasn't able to see his eyes, but the second agent's brows furrowed, and his mouth turned down.. "I don't like your tone, boy."

Danny used his infamous cocky smirk. "Like I care? With only two agents, why should I worry? I could take you guys out easy."

The first agent, the one who had stuttered, gulped. Without warning, he shot at Danny.

Danny gasped, and dove to the side. He needn't have bothered, though. The shot was way off target. It crashed into the wall five feet behind Danny.

"Agent N!"

Danny eyed the scared agent warily. Like cornered wolves, frightened hunters packing heat were dangerous. "New agent?" he asked the other guy.

He grunted. "As green as they come. Listen, kid," he faced Agent N, "there is a rhythm to these things. We exchange witty banter, and then we start shootin' them."

Agent N nodded his head rapidly. "Y-yes, sir. Understood, sir! Should I tranquilize him, sir?"

"Wow, he is green."

The senior agent scowled. "Tranquilizers don't work on ghosts, recruit. Get your facts straight!"

Agent N stuttered apologies. Danny rolled his eyes and wished he would teleport out of there already.

"W-what do we do then, s-sir?"

The other agent grinned sadistically. "We shock him until he loses consciousness."

Danny flinched, but tried to hide it. "Gee, so humane. You must be very proud of your species."

"I am." The senior agent pulled a button switch out of his pocket, and poised his thumb above the large red button. Danny breathed in a deep breath, readying a Ghostly Wail. Passing out and transforming in front of them wasn't an option. "Or, I don't care about yours. Prepare yourself, ghost scum."

POP!

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

POP!

The first thing Danny noticed was the absence of annoying static shocks. The second thing he noticed was the absence of everything else. Including air. He was really glad he took a deep breath before, though the breath was almost stolen from him when he looked down at the Earth. Like, the Earth, the blue planet Earth.

I'm in space! he thought, grinning goofily. He gazed around himself in wonder. He had been to space before, but he'd been too busy fighting to really admire the scenery.

Stars in every direction, as far as the eye could see, he was on the sunny side of the Earth, but he could see the moon poking out from behind the rocky planet. A comet was off in the distance, its ice and dust particles trailing behind it as the solar wind tore at the ice rock. He closed his eyes, and lights danced behind his eyelids as the solar wind hit him.

Danny sagged, and his expression became dreamy. It's so beautiful…this just makes me want to be an astronaut even more! I wish I could stay—Air! He gripped his throat. Air! I need air!

POP!

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

POP!

"Chronicles of Narnia!"

Danny gasped in air, like he'd never tasted anything so sweet. Space was awesome, but it'd be a lot better with oxygen.

"Danny Phantom!"

Danny spun around, and found his first period class staring up at him the same way he had stared at Outer Space. A nervous smile worked its way onto his lips. "I'm just dropping by. I'll be gone in a second, so please, don't let me interrupt."

The class started whispering to each other in excitement, looking like they were seconds away from mobbing him. In the back row, he saw Sam scowl. She hated his 'hero' voice. Tucker waved discreetly to him, and Danny subtly nodded back. He was glad Valerie didn't have his first hour…

"Mr. Phantom!"

Danny looked over his shoulder at Mr. Lancer. "Uh, hello again…"

Lancer frowned. "I take it you haven't fixed your 'problem'?"

"…No."

"Then perhaps you would like to sit in for my lesson," he said, smirking like he had just won a contest. "Perhaps you will learn something."

The students screamed. No longer able to contain themselves, they jumped out of their seats and rushed for Danny. He floated out of their reach, feeling nervous and slightly nauseous. Tucker and Sam joined them in order to keep up appearances, and Danny was annoyed to see Tucker filming it all on his PDA. His classmates gathered below him, shouting for autographs.

Danny backed away, breathing fast. "Uh, I don't know if that's such a good idea! Besides, I probably won't be here for much longer, or at least I really hope not, so I—"

POP!

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

POP!

"…and that is why, I believe we can use the town's little ghost problem to our…" Vlad trailed off when it became apparent he didn't have his audience's full attention. "…advantage…"

Despite the meeting being comprised of mostly professional reporters and self-important civilians, they were whispering rudely amongst each other, laughing and pointing at something behind Vlad. He looked behind him, but all he saw was the red curtain. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"…As I was saying," Vlad said, turning back to the microphone on the podium, "with an interest in ghosts growing worldwide, more and more people will be traveling to Amity Park in search of the fabled beings—one in particular, I might add. I say we encourage this by building tourist attractions that will bring in large crowds of people."

"What?" a familiar voice exclaimed. Vlad smirked, his suspicion confirmed. Danny Phantom flew in front of him, his arms thrown out. "You can't bring more people here! I knew you were a fruitloop, Vlad, but this is going a bit far!"

"Ah," Vlad said suavely, "Amity Park's famous Ghost Boy. So nice of you to join us."

"Cut the crap, Vlad…er, Mr. Mayor…" Danny blushed and glanced over his shoulder at the flashing cameras and excited audience.

Vlad chuckled. "If it puts you more at ease, you're welcome to use my first name. It's the least I can do for our star attraction."

Danny refocused his righteous gaze on Vlad, but he floated to the side of him so his back was no longer to the cameras. "You can't bring tourists here, Masters."

"Oh? And why not? It'd be very profitable for this town."

"You mean it'd be very profitable for you," Danny corrected. "And you can't bring them here because, in case you haven't noticed, this town isn't very safe. The people living here know to run when a ghost attacks, but tourists will get closer because that's what they came to see. People could get seriously hurt…"

"Do you doubt your ability to protect them, little hero?" Vlad questioned, smirking mockingly. "We can use the funds the tourists bring in to hire more competent ghost hunters, so I assure you there is no need for such fear."

Danny scowled at the 'competent' part. "You're making a mistake, Masters. You can hire a hundred ghost hunters, but they won't be enough to—"

POP!

Vlad raised an eyebrow. Interesting… He hadn't expected the boy to develop his teleportation powers so soon, but his apparent lack of control more than made up for his accelerated growth. He'd make the boy suffer a while longer before he approached him.

He turned back to his murmuring audience. "Any questions?"

The crowd shot to their feet.

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

Ms. Tetslaff blew her whistle. Her students looked at her with hope in their eyes and sweat covering every inch of their exhausted bodies. "That's enough for today," she said. "Shower up, you lazy maggots!" The students silently cheered and limped toward the locker rooms.

Tucker almost fell over in relief. He'd take helping Danny fight ghosts over gym any day. He was tempted to curl into a ball and fake dehydration, just so he could sit and relax for a few seconds. Sadly, it was not to be. Sam bounced to his side, and Tucker for the second time that day cursed the girl's athleticism.

She grabbed his arm, and forced him to stumble toward the locker rooms. He muttered complaints, but being the good friend she was, she ignored them.

"Any sign of Danny since this morning?" she asked him quietly.

"Once," Tucker replied. Even his voice sounded tired. "He made a brief appearance in third period chemistry class, and I mean brief. He was there for all but five seconds, but it was still enough to disrupt the whole class and get us out of homework." He grinned. "It was awesome! What about you?"

Sam shrugged. "He popped into second period Art Class. Everybody started sketching him, including Mr. Coal." She smirked. "Danny looked so embarrassed."

Tucker chuckled. "I bet. How long did he stay?"

"Five or ten minutes. There were a lot of disappointed groans after he disappeared, but Mr. Coal managed to finish. It looks really cool too…I also heard he made an appearance for History Class, and Government." She rolled her eyes. "The Government teacher tried to call the Guys in White, but he got taken captive by his class."

Tucker laughed. "Oh man! I wish I had seen that!"

"We can ask Danny all about it once we see him again," Sam pointed out. "If he stays long enough…"

Tucker chuckled.

They split into their gender specific locker rooms, waving goodbye. Still chuckling, Tucker grabbed his shower supplies and strolled into the shower area. Because of a recent ghost attack, tarps littered the area, for once creating some much needed privacy. Too bad Danny was missing it. Mr. Modesty would most definitely appreciate the seclusion.

Tucker stripped down, and was just about to turn on the water when…

POP!

"Tucker!"

Tucker jumped.

Danny nearly hugged him like he had that morning, but he stopped at the last second. He pulled slowly away, making a face. "Uh, you're my best friend and everything, Tuck," he said, "and I love you like a brother, but I am so not touching you when you're naked…"

Tucker hurriedly wrapped his lower half in his towel. "Well no asked you to!" He looked at his best friend, noticing the tousled white hair, the tear in his jumpsuit, and the way his eyes twitched and darted around the room. "Having a rough day, Danny?"

"Like you wouldn't believe!" Danny pulled on his own hair—explaining why it was so messy—and stared at Tucker with unnaturally large eyes. "I never know where I'm going, or when I'm going there! It's all completely random! And I've seen things, Tuck! I've seen things…"

Tucker held his fists against his naked chest, mocking a scared expression. "Were they dead people?" he whispered.

Danny blinked, scowled, and crossed his hands over his chest, sulking. "Oh yeah, ha ha. Laugh at the poor kid who just saw Ember and Skulker making out."

Tucker's jaw dropped and his face turned slightly green.

Danny smirked. "Yeah! Not so funny now, is it!"

POP!

Tucker stared at the empty space before him for a moment, wondering where his traveling friend would end up next.

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

POP!

It happened very fast.

Danny saw what every straight guy dreams about, committed it unintentionally to memory, and was then deafened by shrieks. He screamed too and quickly covered his eyes with his hands. He turned around and tried to fly out of the Girl's Locker Room, but he forgot to go intangible, and he crashed into the lockers. The girls started throwing towels, hairbrushes, and other items at him.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" he shouted over their screams, cowering in a corner. "I have no control over where I'm going!"

POP!

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

POP!

Danny was never so glad to hear that sound. Still, he stayed in a fetal position, too afraid to see where he had teleported to. Maybe if I stay still, he thought desperately, I won't teleport!

"It's alright, Danny," a kind and familiar voice said. "You're safe here."

Danny opened his eyes slowly, and stared up at Clockwork. The Time Ghost in, the form of an old man, smiled kindly back down at him.

Danny grinned and jumped to his feet. "Clockwork! Man, am I glad to see you! Listen, you have to help me! I can't stop teleporting everywhere, and I'm seeing things I really don't want to be seeing, going places I shouldn't be going, and you probably already know about all of this, because you're the Master of Time and everything, but I have to tell you because—"

"Danny, you have something on—"

"—I'm freaking out here, because I can't stop teleporting—"

"Danny, your head—"

"—and I'm seeing things I should not be not be seeing, and it won't stop, Clockwork, make it stop!" Danny leaned his head against his Guardian/mentor's chest, whimpering pathetically. "Make it stop…"

Clockwork hesitated, unsure. He reached up a hand, and patted Danny awkwardly on the shoulder. "I…I'm sorry, Danny," he said, sounding sincerely apologetic. "It's not my place to help you."

Danny's shoulders slumped in defeat. He drew away from the timeless ghost and shook the hand off his shoulder. "Yeah…I should have figured that…Sorry for putting you on the spot, Clockwork."

Clockwork changed into a toddler. He sighed, and shook his head. "There is nothing to apologize for, Danny. You ask far less of me than most ghosts. However," his tone made Danny glance despondently up at him, "I can tell you it will end soon."

Danny straightened, and his eyes brightened with hope. "Really?"

The Time Master nodded sagely. "Indeed." He smirked, and it was very odd to see such a sarcastic look on a kid's face. "By the way, Danny. You have something on your head."

Danny frowned. He brought his hand to his head and pressed down, immediately feeling something lacy. He grabbed it and brought it down to eye level. It was a white bra. Danny let out a half-yelp and quickly tossed it away from him. He wiped his hand against his pants, making a face.

Clockwork chuckled, now a middle-aged man. "I thought you were over the 'cootie' stage by now, Danny."

Danny grimaced. "I'm fourteen, and I have an older sister. You do the math."

Clockwork nodded. "Fair enough. You have ten seconds before you teleport again."

Danny looked dismayed. "So soon? Can you tell me where I'm going?"

"Home, Danny. To Fenton Works." Danny smiled in relief. "But you won't get a warm welcome."

He frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"Five…"

"Clockwork!"

"Four…"

"I can't believe you're counting down!"

"Three…"

"Whoever heard of Master of all Time counting down the time?"

"Two…"

"'Hey, I'm Clockwork! I'm counting down because I'm awesome like that—'"

"One."

POP!

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

POP!

"GHOST!"

"Ghost!"

"Warning! Warning! Ecto-entity in the lab."

Danny blinked. "Wow. What a welcome home…"

His mom grabbed an ecto gun off one of the lab tables and shot at Danny. He gasped and quickly dove beneath it, escaping the shot by a hair. Jack shot a net at Danny, but it missed him completely. Still in a ball, it ricocheted off the wall and expanded over Maddie, knocking her to the ground and sending her gun flying. Danny clamped his hands over his mouth, trying to smother his giggles.

"Jack!" Maddie shouted angrily, struggling inside the net.

"Sorry, sweet cheeks!" Jack dropped the net launcher and grabbed the weapon they'd been working on before Danny arrived. "I'll get you out of there as soon as I capture this ghost!"

"Jack! We haven't fixed the—"

"BONSAI!" Jack pulled the trigger. Ectoplasmic goop shot into his face.

"—trigger…"

Danny wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed by his father (again), or be grateful he messed up an attack (again). He just chuckled weakly, and rubbed the back of his neck.

POP!

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

POP!

As soon as the green mist cleared, Danny looked around his new surroundings. What he saw made him grimace, and not just because the green and gold color scheme was an eyesore.

"Ah, Daniel. I was wondering when you'd 'pop' in."

Vlad stepped out of a darkened hallway, haunting smirk in place. Danny spun around and crossed his arms over his chest, lifting an eyebrow. "Do you always have to make a creepy entrance, or is this another fruitloop thing?"

Vlad huffed, looking offended. "It's dramatic, Daniel, not creepy."

"Where'd you learn it from, Villainy for Dummies? Seems like overcompensation if you ask me."

Vlad's eyes flashed red, before he schooled his expression into one of mocking regret. "I was going to offer you my expertise on teleporting, but if you're going to be immature, I have more important things to do." He turned around, walking back into the dark hallway.

Danny gasped, and quickly flew in front of the man. "Whoa, hold on!" He held up his hands in front of Vlad, forcing him to stop. "You can stop this? You can make me stop teleporting?" Vlad nodded, and Danny smiled happily. "Great! I—Wait." The smile fell from his face, and he eyed the man suspiciously. "What's in it for you?"

Vlad's lips twisted into a smirk. "No longer naïve enough to expect anything for free. I'm proud of you, little badger. My price is the usual."

"Renounce my dad and become your evil apprentice?" Danny crossed his arms again. "Forget it, Vlad."

Vlad shrugged his shoulders. "Then enjoy the rest of your life filled with uncertainty." He walked around Danny, raising a hand in farewell. "Ta."

Danny winced. He chewed on his bottom lip, thinking. He hated teleporting. If he ever got out of the rut he had fallen into, he swore the power would definitely be crossed off his list…He groaned, and flew after Vlad. "Vlad wait!"

Vlad halted, his expression triumphant. "Yes?"

Danny refused to meet his eyes. "I…The reward isn't worth the price, Vlad, but…will you teach me to control this power for…Mom's cell number?"

Vlad's eyes sparkled in interest. "You'll give me her phone number?"

It was difficult, but Danny managed to keep from grinning triumphantly. "She'll probably never forgive me, but yes. I mean, it's not like you'll get anywhere with it…"

Vlad smiled cockily. "I assure you, Daniel, I can be quite charming. I'll be your legal father in no time." Danny gagged, and Vlad rolled his eyes. "I suppose we have a deal?" Vlad held out his hand.

Danny stared at it, making a show of hesitating. "Alright…" He reached out and grabbed the other hybrids hand. "Deal."

POP!

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

POP!

Danny blinked, and when his eyes opened, it wasn't Vlad's ugly décor that greeted his sight, but Amity's newspaper office. People occupied cubicles, writing down stories on computers and scribbling notes in their notebooks, but no sign of Vlad.

"No!" Danny screamed, frantically searching the office for his savior. He could have followed him in ghost form, right? The sound of typing and pencils scribbling on paper instantly ceased, but Danny didn't notice. "I was so close to ending this!" He ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth on the open air. "I finally outsmarted the creep, and I get whooshed off before I can even celebrate! Where's justice in that? Is this some great cosmic joke? Just—"

POP!

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

POP!

"GHOST!"

"Jack! Get this net off me!"

"—how many people are laughing at me? The Observants—"

POP!

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

POP!

"Danny Phantom!"

"—are probably having a grand ol' time laughing at me, the jerks. No doubt Vlad finds this whole thing amusing—"

POP!

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

POP!

"Breach in Sector 11! Again!"

"—because he's a total bastard like that. Clockwork, Master of all Annoyingness, acted—"

POP!

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

POP!

"BEWARE!"

"—all sincere, but I bet he's laughing on the inside!"

POP!

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

POP!

"Mr. Phantom! A few questions—"

"And don't even get me started on my friends—"

POP!

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

POP!

"—probably laughing about it at this very moment! Some friends!"

"Danny?"

Danny spun around. His friends stared up at him, along with the whole Casper High cafeteria. He was floating over the lunch line, and even the lunch ladies were gaping openly at him. Slop slipped off one of their spoons.

Danny laughed. "Great. Just great. Of course I'd wind up here, again."

"Danny," Sam hissed, "go invisible!"

Considering the students were starting to rush in his direction, that was sound advice. Danny turned invisible. His fans slowed, groaning in disappointment, but Danny felt no sympathy. He placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, and whispered, "I'll meet you guys at our table." She nodded and whispered the message to Tucker.

Danny sat in his designated seat and placed his head in his hands, just taking time to relax and not think about anything. A few minutes later, Tucker and Sam sat at the table on either side of him.

"Danny?" Sam asked quietly. "Are you still here?"

Danny nodded his head, but realized they couldn't see it. He sighed. "Yes."

Tucker stuffed some mystery meat into his mouth. "So how's your day been?" he asked cheerfully.

Danny groaned.

"Aw, it can't be that bad." He grinned, and nudged what he hopped was Danny's shoulder and not his head. "Sam says you teleported into the girl's locker room while they were changing…"

Sam stabbed her salad, growling low in her throat. She muttered what Danny assumed were threats against mankind.

"They nearly killed me, Tuck."

"Yeah, but you would have died a happy man!"

Danny's lips twitched. "True…"

Sam slammed her spork down, her face flaming. "We are never speaking of it again, and you—" she pointed a threatening finger at Danny's seat "—are going to forget what you saw. Got it?"

"…I don't think I can, Sam…"

Sam growled, and Tucker laughed. Danny smiled, though they couldn't see it, and snuck a fry from Tucker's tray. Being invisible had its perks.

"The school is in an uproar, Danny," Sam said after a minute of silence. "…More than usual. Valerie is going crazy trying to find you, Paulina constantly fixes her makeup, and the teachers seem to be competing against each other…"

Tucker nodded. "There's even a bet going around about where you'll pop in next!"

Danny raised an unseen eyebrow. "Do I want to know who started the bet, Tuck…?"

Tucker coughed into his fist. "Depends on what you plan to do to him—or her! For all we know, the evil, clever, and no doubt charming mastermind might have been a girl."

Danny rolled his eyes, and stole another fry from the 'clever mastermind'. "Uh-huh."

"Have you learned any control yet?" Sam asked.

Danny grumbled. "No. I convinced Vlad to help me, though."

"How'd you manage that?" Sam asked.

He smirked slyly. "By offering my mom's cell phone number."

Tucker frowned. "But your mom doesn't—" His eyes cleared in understanding. He smiled at Danny. "Niiice, dude."

"So, you know how to stop now?" Sam asked.

Danny sighed. "No. Before he had a chance to tell me, I teleported away."

"Well," Tucker said, "that explains the rant. That must have been really frustrating."

"I wasn't ranting!" Danny protested. "I was…expressing my anger to the universe."

"In other words, ranting," Sam concluded.

"…Alright fine, I ranted."

"Maybe there's a pattern to it," Sam suggested. "You've been here for a while. What are you doing differently now?"

Danny shrugged. "Talking to you guys, focusing on not teleporting so I have a chance to relax."

"Maybe that's the answer then. You just have to concentrate on your surroundings and on staying in one place."

He grimaced. "I don't know, Sam. What about when I—"

POP!

Sam groaned, and leaned back in her chair. "Great. Here we go again."

Tucker chuckled. "Look on the bright side, Sam. At least the bet—that I had no part in making—is still on. I'm going to be rich!" He went to grab a fry, but the bucket was empty. He frowned down at his tray. "Where'd my fries go?"

#Danny Phantom #Sam Manson #Tucker Folely #apples keep the ghosts away #light-hearted fanfiction #old fic #writing trance

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Wound

@kawaiijohn

It didn’t take Clockwork long to find him, but any time was too much time. It shouldn’t have taken so much time. But—

Clockwork strained against the limitations placed on him, against the bonds of linear time, the obligations of his position. But they held fast. He wasn’t fast enough. It was inexcusable.

Still. He found him. Found Daniel.

The boy, the child, was wedged in a tiny corner made by three walls meeting at acute angles in the maze of stairs, walls, and other building fragments not far from the Fenton Portal. It wasn’t exactly a secure place, but considering the child’s state of mind, it must have seemed attractive.

Clockwork stopped some distance away, cautious of coming too close to Daniel and frightening him. Danny stared at him with huge, glowing green eyes.

They would have been more striking, if his whole body wasn’t smeared with ectoplasm of the same shade.

“Daniel,” started Clockwork.

Daniel’s breath, already shallow, hitched, and he curled deeper into the corner. Clockwork frowned, but drifted backward, trying to give Daniel the space he needed.

Clockwork wanted little more than to sweep over and snatch Daniel up, bring him somewhere safe to heal. But considering what had happened to him… Clockwork could see that such a course of action would only lead to disaster and pain.

He settled on the closest thing this place had to a floor and coiled his tail underneath him, prepared to be patient. He had to be patient.

Daniel made a sound that made Clockwork’s core ache. It wasn’t a natural sound for a young ghost, all discordant and broken, keening around the injury in his core. It was a sound of fear. Fear of Clockwork.

Clockwork couldn’t blame him. After all, Daniel didn’t remember him. Couldn’t, with that injury.

The core was a ghost’s brain, and Daniel had taken a significant blow to his. They were lucky that the damage was relatively minor. Temporary amnesia, and, perhaps, a slight headache when trying to recall early human memories while in ghost form, would be the most troubling of the side effects.

As for the main effect, the wound that cut across his chest… It would heal, given proper care, which Daniel would receive if he let Clockwork near him.

Which he might not, considering the amnesia.

Clockwork closed his eyes and focused on projecting calm, safety. Daniel may be injured and, not to put to fine a point on it, terrified, but he was a child ghost. They responded to things like that.

Sure enough, Daniel’s panicked breathing slowed to a more reasonable rate. He no longer looked like he was about to bolt at a moment’s notice.

Clockwork could only hope that was because he was calming down, not because the wound was taking its toll.

“Who are you?” croaked Daniel, finally.

“My name is Clockwork,” he replied, relieved, “I would like to help you, if you will allow me to do so, Daniel.”

He could practically see the gears in Daniel’s head turning, processing, weighing action against action, risk of trust against the still-dripping wound in his chest.

“Daniel… is that…”

“It’s your name,” said Clockwork.

“You know me?”

“I do.”

More processing. Clockwork knew he was fortunate that Daniel got a good look at the ghost who had done this to him, otherwise he would likely be even more wary, more suspicious.

“Okay,” said Daniel, finally.

“Alright,” said Clockwork. “I will need to take you to my lair.” He drifted slightly closer, and Daniel began to shake his head vigorously. Clockwork stopped.

“Not going anywhere,” he said, beginning to pant by the last word.

Clockwork blinked, disappointed, but nodded. “I can see what I can do here,” he offered.

Daniel hesitated, then nodded. Clockwork approached slowly, giving Daniel ample opportunity to change his mind.

Up close, the wound was gruesome. Leaking ectoplasm and bubbling. It seemed that one of Daniel’s lungs had been nicked, and it was a good thing that he didn’t need oxygen in this form. Clockwork carefully peeled first Daniel’s hands and then the fabric of his torn jumpsuit away from the gash. Daniel whined pitifully, but did not stop Clockwork, or lash out, which was almost more than he expected.

A ghost with an exposed core was extremely vulnerable. After filling one’s Obsessions, the instinct to protect one’s core was often cited as the next strongest.

Clockwork clicked his tongue, and with a flick of his fingers summoned a set of first aid supplies. Daniel had tensed again at the motion, but visibly forced himself to relax when he saw what Clockwork had brought.

“You’re doing very well,” soothed Clockwork. “I need to clean your wound and bind it. It may hurt.”

Daniel nodded curtly.

“I do have access to painkillers.”

Daniel shook his head just as curtly. “Just do it,” he said.

Demonstrating pain tolerance that broke Clockwork’s metaphorical heart, Daniel did not scream while Clockwork disinfected (Daniel was still part human, after all) and dressed the wound. He did start keening, deep in his throat, when Clockwork packed the wound with an ectoplasm rich gel designed to help ghosts heal more quickly, and halfway through Clockwork binding the wound, he started to shake, fine tremors running down his limbs.

By the time Clockwork had done what he could in this environment, Daniel was clearly exhausted and visibly fighting sleep. Clockwork waited, patiently. Daniel did not endeavor to drive him off.

After a few minutes, Daniel’s features smoothed into sleep. Clockwork eased the younger ghost into his arms and called up one of his portals, careful not to jostle Daniel further.

Daniel’s recovery would go much more smoothly in the clocktower.

He (Daniel?) woke up all at once with no idea where he was.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. He was in a bed. And there were clocks. And the walls were purple.

That was about where his idea of where he was ran out. So. Not a lot to go on. He tried to sit up, only to have agony rip through what felt like his very soul, and instead rolled over and curled up, trying not to make too much noise, because whatever had hurt him had to be nearby, looking for him, trying to finish what it had started, and he was so helpless, and—

Wait. No. He’d gotten away. Then that other ghost, Clockwork, had helped him, and Danny had…

What? Passed out?

That was embarrassing. Also troubling, because that seemed to imply that Clockwork had brought him here, and Danny wasn’t at all sure of the ghost’s intentions.

He had helped, sure, but how had he known that he (Daniel? The name sounded right, but… not quite) needed help in the first place? It was suspicious.

The fact that he couldn’t remember anything about himself or what he’d been doing before being almost eviscerated made the situation all the more stressful.

He took a deep breath, ignoring how much it hurt. Staying here, tangled in the sheets, would not help him. Slowly, careful of his chest, he extracted himself.

His eyes met Clockwork’s. He froze.

“Hello, Daniel,” said the ghost, shifting smoothly from one age to another. “How do you feel?”

He chewed on his lower lip. “Better?” he answered, uncertainly.

Clockwork smiled gently. “I’m glad. Are you hungry?”

“No,” he said, after a moment’s thought.

Clockwork nodded. “Are you in any pain?”

“No. I’m fine. I think I should go, now.”

Clockwork floated in front of him, blocking his path. “Daniel,” he said, putting a hand on Danny’s shoulder, “you need to take care of yourself better than that. Give yourself time to heal. Do you even remember anything, yet?”

He forced down his first, knee-jerk response, which was something along the lines of ‘how do you know that’ and instead said, “Yeah, yep, remember everything. It’s all peachy-keen.”

Clockwork fixed him with such a look of disappointment that he could almost physically feel the weight of it. He looked away, trying to suppress the feelings that rose up inside him.

“If you go slowly,” said Clockwork, voice kind and gentle. “I can show you around my lair. I know you will feel restive, trying to stay in bed. There are things here that may interest you.”

“Okay,” he said. “Sure.”

Internally, he resolved to escape as soon as possible.

#danny phantom #phic phight #clockwork #danny fenton #phic phight 2021

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apinklion01 · 3 years

Text

Going Angst

Day Three: Family

Walker didn’t go far from his post at the prison unless it was for patrols or if a prisoner escaped. He had a very private corner tucked away within the walls which served as his main lair where no other ghost could go.

So any other ghost stood clear when he did venture further out into the Ghost Zone. He liked that they kept their distance. They knew the consequences if they didn’t. He was the only one trying to keep any sense of order down here, and he worked hard to keep it that way.

There were only two occurrences where a ghost didn’t give him respect: the mangy excuse for a werewolf and the Phantom.

The werewolf he could care less for. The ghost was powerful, yes, but Walker knew more about his time in the living realm than the mutt would ever know, and that was all he needed to give him an upper edge when dealing with the furry convict.

The Phantom was another story.

He was a freak even by ghost standards. A spirit boundless from the planes of life and death who moved between them freely thanks to the wrenched machine his family had built within a place called Amity Park.

The teen was impulsive, rash, and even led a prison escape that left Walker and his squadrons beaten up and reinforcing the security measures.

However due to being half ghost, the Phantom remained the sole convict that the warden knew he couldn’t lock up permanently.

But something was odd during the time he talked to the teen.

Walker heard an unusual song in his ears. One he hadn’t heard since his time in the living world. A song from his mother, supposedly handed down from members of her side of the family tree.

That very song kept repeating while he fought the Phantom, and only stopped after he was long gone.

But why?

Tired of asking himself questions, Walker decided to venture to the Library of Alexandria. The legendary building was open to any in the Ghost Zone so long as you didn’t start any fights that could damage the books and scrolls inside.

Walker didn’t learn everything about ghosts from word of the ear. Prior to dying, he came across a few books teaching him an intermediate amount of how the spectors worked. Their powers, obsessions, weaknesses. While Walker didn’t have access to the more offensive abilities, the knowledge was all he needed to fight such supernatural entities, even beyond his final breath.

He continued building more knowledge by returning to the library. There was a section specifically for new ghosts who wanted to learn about how to handle the afterlife, but also for older ones to learn of rituals, common spells, and caring for their cores.

Walker made his way down the aisle, a young apprentice of a librarian having handed out the book that might have the answers he needed.

His eyes spotted the name of a book: Melbourne’s Guide to a Spectral Entity. It appeared to be far older than anything Walker had read, the spine of the book faded and tearing apart, the threads loose on the covers.

Walker took out the book from the shelf, a few lowly blob ghosts scuttling away to undisturbed places of the library. Prying the book open, he grazed through the pages, the words mostly in Old English, yet he somehow was able to read them.

One page stood out. A ghost and a human side by side, the older being a ghost, a depiction of their core present.

If a ghost dies prior to learning about any future descendants or relatives, a song they hold dear will be heard when they encounter them. The living or dead relatives will not be able to hear the song until the older one speaks the truth. When they do, then the relative will be seen as a true descendant.

Rediscovering and reuniting is held as sacred to all ghosts. To break the bonds of family is viewed as disgraceful unless done properly. If not, dire consequences may occur to both the living and dead members.

Walker nearly dropped the book. It was impossible. There couldn’t be any connection between the Phantom and him.

Either the book was speaking blasphemy, or it was some sort of joke that the half ghost conceived. But the boy looked too young to think up such an act.

There was only one ghost who had the answer: the master of time himself.

One doesn’t simply wander into Clockwork’s lair. To some it’s visible occasionally, and to others it doesn’t even appear in the Ghost Zone unless they need his assistance.

Clockwork already had seen a few timelines where Walker would come inside, but didn’t bother to turn around, cleaning up a gear connecting the multiple clocks the building held inside.

“A simple greeting wouldn’t be too much to ask,” He said.

“I need you to show me something,” The warden’s deep voice spoke.

“Do you know what you need to see?” Clockwork answered, drifting down to the place where the ghost stood. He noted in several timelines that the ghost preferred touching the ground, avoiding acting like a ghost during his time in the Ghost Zone for more than half a century.

“I need you to show me a family. Any related descendants of John James Walker,” The ghost narrowed his eyes. It was dangerous to reveal the true name a ghost had prior to dying, but Clockwork had no usage for such knowledge and never told a soul any when they asked. Not even a certain Daniel James Fenton had the privilege.

“As you wish, though I warn you Walker, you may not like what you’ll see.”

Clockwork escorted Walker to an old mirror, where a small clock was inserted on the wooden frame. Nothing was visible on the mirror except both their reflections. A small flick of his wrist to the right, and the hands turned back fast until they were a mere blur.

Clockwork held his hand out and the clock stopped. In the mirror there were three children running on a farm. One was Will, a red headed boy, the other a brown haired girl named Elizabeth. The third was one he knew Walker recognized: himself. His hair was a dirty blonde color, yet his eyes were a stormy gray.

“Is this you,” Clockwork asked. Walker didn’t respond, stunned at the sight that he thought was all but in his memories.

“Bet you can’t catch me,” He heard his eldest brother shout.

“No fair, you had a head start,” His younger self cried out. Walker tentatively placed a hand on the mirror, the surface flickering like a leaf touching a puddle.

The ghost was silent as he watched the scene play out: a normal game of tag, with not a care in the world.

“Continue forward,” He spoke dryly, and Clockwork obliged.

The clock spun forward, and Clockwork halted it. The scene had changed to the inside of an old house. The sky beyond the windows was a dull gray, the grass in the distance muted green and brown colors.

A woman, Walker’s mother, stands by the door, reading a letter she had long awaited back from the army. Her anxious smile soon faded into disdain, and she muttered a few lines of the telegram to herself before she began to shake her head and cried. Her daughter Elizabeth, who was standing nearby, tries to console her but her words falter, and tears too begin pouring from her eyes.

A young Walker runs down the stairs, looking at both his family members. “Liz, what’s going on?” He asked worryingly.

Elizabeth looked up, her eyes wet from crying. “Dad,” She began, pausing as she coked up. “He’s not… coming back from the war…”

Clockwork maintained his distance, but saw Walker’s shoulders tense up. He took his hand away from the mirror, placing it inside one of his pockets.

The younger Walker in the mirror appeared confused. “Did he get held back again? Liz, tell me-”

“He’s gone Walker!” Elizabeth shouted before biting her lip. A shaky sigh escaped her mouth. “He’s gone…”

Clockwork turned the clock forward again. Walker didn’t seem to mind.

They paused again. Walker backed away again as the scene unfolded. It was a funeral being held around sunset. His mother appeared older, having begun growing gray hair and crying gently. William and Elizabeth were nearby with their own kids. Clockwork reckoned they were but six years old at the time of the unpleasant event.

“John, you didn’t deserve to go like this,” William spoke solemnly. “If we had known this was going to happen, maybe I’d have tried harder to convince you to tell the army to give you a break.”

“But you were an awful lot like dad,” He continued. “You didn’t want us to get too wrapped up in your troubles. I don’t know how many you had on your hands, ranging from learning I was drafted into the war to getting into the paranormal. All we have left of you are our memories. “

He set down a white lily onto the headstone marked with Walker’s name.

“I hope you still have them when I meet you on the other side.”

The rest of the funeral played in silence.

“Why are you showing me this,” Walker spoke, his head hung low.

“Your mother died sometime after your funeral,” Clockwork said quietly. “But her name lives on in one of your living relatives, Maddison. Elizabeth’s granddaughter.”

Walker perked up at the news, his eyes uncertain but wanting answers. “... Show me,” He muttered in slight disbelief.

The scene changed quickly, the hands slowing to a stop inside a modern home. Four figures were present. A woman, presumably Maddison, held a baby in her hands. It was easy to see the reason she was given the name, as she had a resemblance to Walker’s mother.

A man, the father of the baby, stood by, beckoning a smaller child to come forward. This one had reddish hair like her mother’s. The baby looked like it was recently born, their eyes remaining closed.

“Jazz, meet your baby brother,” The father spoke.

Jazz looked at the baby with big eyes. “He’s small.”

“He’s only a baby Jazz,” Maddie said quietly, her eyes full of nothing but love for her children. “And he’ll need you to be there for him, even if we’re not around. Can you promise me that?”

Jazz gave a tiny nod.

“Here, you can hold him,” Maddie spoke, handing the sleeping child into the other’s hands. Jazz carefully held him. The baby stirred, but didn’t wake up. Jazz gave a smile in awe.

“What’s his name?” Jazz asked.

“We’re giving him a special name,” Jack told her. “One part comes from a relative of your mother’s.”

“I had a great great grandfather who was around long before you or I were born,” Maddie said. “He passed away in a war, but he gave a name to one of my great grandfathers, John James Walker.”

Walker let a faintly audible gasp that Clockwork made out.

“We’re naming him Daniel James Fenton,” Maddie continued. “So he can grow up and be just as good as both of them.”

At that moment, baby Danny started to cry, startling Jazz. Maddie took her younger child back into her arms, rocking him back and forth.

“Shhh, don’t cry sweetie,” she spoke softly. “Shhh. I’m right here, I’ll always be here to protect you, my little Danny.” She began humming a melody Clockwork knew Walker had known his whole life.

Clockwork let the hand return to the present, and the mirror reflected both ghosts.

“So,” Clockwork said, floating over to clean the clock on the mirror. It had been a while since he had done so. “What will you do now?”

Walker didn’t respond for a minute, placing together the pieces in his head. The older ghost counted till the moment where the warden would ask the question.

“...He doesn’t know anything about this yet, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Clockwork said.

“You better not do any funny business, old man,” Walker muttered, walking toward the exit.

“What do you intend to do,” the time keeper questioned.

Walker stopped at the steps. “My job. I’m the one making any attempt at order. Only something like Pariah Dark could stop me from doing that.”

Clockwork sensed that the ghost had left before glancing at another mirror playing a particular timeline scenario: Danny looking through a scrapbook detailing Maddie’s side of the family tree.

“Fate isn’t kind to you, is it Daniel,” The Master of Time muttered.

#danny phantom #going angst week 2021 #dp walker #clockwork #pink lion dabbles

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

Text

Phantom Children Pt. 5

Hey guys, it's been really busy for me at university so I have no idea when I'll have free time to write this month. Chapter 5 is actually still unfinished, but I didn't want to leave you guys hanging, so here's the first half of chapter 5.

In Which: Another deal is struck upon the ice

AO3 | Prologue | 4 | [ 5 ] | 6

THE PIT SINGS. A low, groaning thing. Muffled like how sounds distort underwater. It reminded Danny of the sounds of Jupiter he would listen to when he really needed to study; the sounds heavily mixed to be more ambient yet still echoing traces of the original, haunting melody of the universe.

The Pit calls for him. No, not the pit—the ectoplasm in the pit is what calls him. Pulls the waves toward him as if he were the moon, bright and full, whispering with garbled voices hello-hello-hello. His core whispers back the same words every time he is near it. Hello-hello-hello. The Pit lingers in the back of his mind and sings in familiar words he does not understand.

Talia calls it a fascination. Ra’s calls it a connection.

A visceral link. Like calls to like. Strange ectoplasmic middle fingers to the laws of the universe—to the great equalizer that is death.

(Danny thinks Ra’s is wrong. Not completely wrong, but not right either.)

When his ghost form is no longer trying to cannibalize his human self, Talia dials up his training. Before, she was merely an observer. Now, she fights him in the ring, teaching him how to dodge with bruised ribs and broken bones. Brutally correcting his stances with harsh jabs and quick strikes. Sweeps him off the floor with a twist of her leg when he forgets how to use his feet. Each day left him with such bone-deep fatigue that mor more once he fell asleep during his sixty minutes in front of the monitor.

They know, now, that the Pit has no adverse effect on him. That he can use the pit more than once.

Bruises and fractures, cuts and scrapes; injuries mean nothing when a dip in green waters will wash everything away.

Even the possibility of insanity starts to feel far-fetched.

Danny should hate this. He should really hate this.

He loved it.

Phantom had always been a fighter. A protector. An underdog matched up against bigger and stronger foes but always somehow coming up on top. He was popular. Liked by the citizens of Amity Park despite his dumpster fire of a reputation near the beginning. Somehow in the year and a half since Phantom’s conception, he went from town menace to this larger-than-life figure. (Ha!) The hero of Amity Park with all of the expectations and responsibilities that came with it.

But Danny—plain, ol’ Danny Fenton—wasn’t any of that. Wasn’t allowed to be any of that. Because Danny Fenton was a wimpy kid who tripped over air and regularly got shoved inside lockers. He was the ghost hunters’ son who was deathly afraid of the paranormal. A C-average student in a family of geniuses.

A persona unwillingly crafted and carefully maintained, because at least this way no one other than Jazz or Wes will be able to connect Fenton to Phantom. Who would believe it?

But here, in Nanda Parbat, he was neither Fenton nor Phantom— he was something more. He had no secret identity to keep from the people who have vigorously researched him. He had no need to hold back.

Here, Danny was free to be Danny.

“Daniel.”

Even if he was called by the wrong-right name.*

Danny floated up from the pit, his transformation seamless as he stepped onto the edge on quiet feet. Tahlia threw him a knapsack. “Ready yourself, we have places to be.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I get my sixty-minutes after the Pit, remember?”

“I did not forget.” She smiled, resting her hand on her hip. “I simply thought that by beloved child might relish a change in scenery.”

Danny perked up, hands tightening around the straps of the knapsack. “We’re going outside?” Tahlia nodded. “Like—outside-outside. With the sky and trees and—and the stars?”

Amusement softened her sharp features, jade eyes sparkling with mirth. “The very same. Though the place we are going to is quite fickle in nature, and I am unsure if we will get another chance to go. But if you really insist on it then—”

“Wait!” He snapped his mouth shut, clutching the bag closer to his chest.

(Family, his core whispered. Family-safe-safe-protect-need-see-confirm-family-home)

The sixty minutes he gets to see his family was…precious. One of the few times the restlessness in his core would draw back; melt away like frost in the spring, leaving some sense of contentment behind. It was his refuge. Sanctuary. Physical proof that what he was doing here—(staying away-away-why-go back-back-return-home-family-home-protect)—meant something.

But.

Outside.

The Pit might have increased his training regiment, but it also allowed him to leave (escorted) the walls of his rooms. And this—

Danny could go outside.

He could go outside.

If he didn’t accept this now, then who knows when the opportunity would arise again? His family wouldn’t mind, right? Jazz did say something about how spending time outdoors is good for one’s health.

He swallowed a lump in his throat. “My…my family will be alright, yes?”

Tahlia cocked her head. “Why wouldn’t they be? You have done nothing wrong that goes against our agreement, and you have progressed wonderfully in your training. I am quite proud.” At Danny’s disquieted expression, she sighed. She raised her hand. “I swear on the blood of the demon—on our blood—that I will honor our agreement and do no harm to the Fentons and your friends during our trip.”

She lowered her hand. “Are you satisfied, habeebi?”

Reluctantly, Danny nods. An agreement from Tahlia is probably the best he could do at this point. “How much time do I have to prepare?” “Everything you will need is in that back. Though, it might do you good to dress very warmly.”

----------

Danny’s first breath of fresh air was biting. It filled the lungs crisp and clean, chilled him to the bones though he could feel no cold. Each warm exhale expressed itself in swirling mists, disappearing into the slate gray clouds above. A facsimile of his own ghost sense.

Fenton did not think much of breathing; Phantom did not need it.

Danny had never realized how wonderous it was to breathe.

“We head northeast,” Tahlia called out. Like him, she is bundled in thick black layers with long leather gauntlets strapped at the end of the sleeves. Her bag secured tightly, and a sword strapped to her back. Her long black hair is bound in a tight braid beneath her fur-lined hood.

The path is covered with snow, deep enough that his first few steps past Nanda Parbat’s gates sinks his leg midway up his calf with a loud crunch. It was hardly as deep as some parts in the Far Frozen, but over there Danny had the choice to simple float over. Tahlia trudged through the snow with a preternatural grace. The path ahead was marked only by the faint traces of footprints almost—but not quite—covered with fresh snow.

Among the many things the League had taught him, this was one: the devil is in the details.

They speak little on their trek. Not that Danny particularly minds, absorbed that he was with world around him. Nanda Parbat, he learned, was built high in the mountains. Cocooned from the rest of the world by the snow-capped mountain ranges that surrounded it. A fortress of wood and stone that seemed distinct yet so carefully hidden. The high walls protected the buildings within from view. Its roofs—elongated and curved—and tall towers modelled after east Asian architecture. Though which country, Danny does not know.

Their destination—past a large protrusion of stone that covered the fortress from view once crossed—was a lake. Frozen a pale blue with ice, surrounded by more mountain walls and the opening of a cave off to the side.

Perplexed, he said “What, are we gonna go ice fishing? Just so you kno, I’m not that big of a fan. The last time I went with my dad I was nearly eaten by a sea monster.”

“We should have enough food for this exercise, Daniel. And you need have no fear of sea monsters, this lake is devoid of any such creatures.” Once they reached the mouth of the cave, she unstrapped her bag, setting it against the stone wall. Danny mimicked the motion. “We are here to train.”

“With…?”

She gestures to the katana strapped to his back.

“With swords.”

A nod.

“On the ice?”

She smiled, leading him to the edge of the frozen lake. “It has become something of a family tradition of the al Ghuls, to cross blades upon the ice.” She plants a steady foot on the lake, walking towards the center with long strides.

Danny followed behind her with some trepidation. He wouldn’t die from frostbite, he was sure, and if he fell he could always fly himself out. But that didn’t stop him from flinching at the rumbling sounds the ice made beneath his feet.

“My father trained both your father and I on this lake.” Tahlia unsheathed her sword as she took her place across from Danny. “And as your father no doubt trained Damian on his own lake, I have the pleasure of training you.” She slipped into a stance. “On your mark.”

Danny slipped into his own stance, feet apart, both hands on the hilt. Then, something nudged at the back of his mind. “Who’s Damian?”

Tahlia tilted her blade, the polished sword gleaming and sharp. “Your brother. Now—begin!”

“Wait, wha—” Danny barely managed to parry the blow.

Sparks flew as blades crossed and Danny twisted off to the side.

He slipped. Head meeting the ice, the deep crackling sound of the lake making him tense.

Tahlia points the tip of her blade against his chest. A single elegant brow arched high in dissatisfaction. Danny glared at her, brushing the fringes of his hair away from his face. “To be fair, you shouldn’t say stuff like that right before a fight. You caught me off guard.”

“If you find yourself in a fair fight, you have failed to prepare enough.” She sheathed her sword before extending an arm to help Danny to his feet. “The goal of a fight is to end it—no matter the cost. Now, take you place.”

Danny picked up his sword, then, hesitates. He looked up at Tahlia. “Did you mean what you said?” Do I have a brother?

Tahlia smiled, drawing her blade once more. “Impress me and you’ll find out.”

Danny narrowed his eyes.

“Now—”

He adjusted his stance. You’re on.

“Begin!”

Danny lunged.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

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fungalnebula · 4 years

Photo

Prologue

Chapter One (will be linked when published)

Please leave critiques and suggestions in replies and/or reblogs!!! Click the cover image for a surprise!

There was a large tube inside the basement of the Fenton building. It was closed off by a large, military grade door, securing the emptiness of the tube. This machine had been sitting in the basement of the Fenton building, unused, since its conception two long years ago.

“Danny, why didn’t you tell us about this?” One of Danny’s best friends, Sam, asked as Danny punched in a code to release the contents of the empty tube. “This is so cool!”

Sam loved the Ghost Aesthetic. Danny felt a little bad for not telling her about the broken portal because of that.

“It didn’t work so I thought you guys wouldn’t care,” Danny said. “It was broken anyway…”

“Dude, it’s still a ghost portal!” Danny’s other best friend, Tucker, exclaimed. “Even if it doesn’t work, all the bones are still there.”

“I’m sorry, guys. I didn’t know it would be that interesting.”

“Are you insane!?” Sam exclaimed, “this is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. Let me take a picture of you!”

“No way, Samantha.” Danny groused, “there is no way I’m getting in that thing. What if the reason it didn’t work is because of loose wires or something? I don’t want to die.”

“You won’t die and you know I hate it when you call me Samantha,” she chastised. “You said it’s been broken for years! There’s no way it’ll work if it hasn’t already. It’s like a dead bear, it can’t hurt you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Danny laughed at her analogy. “You can still fall on a dead bear and get maimed by its teeth AND SLASH OR claws, Samantha.” Danny mocked Sam, waving his hands with each syllable of her name.

“Yeah, bad metaphor, just get in there. You won’t get electrocuted or anything. Your parents probably disconnected it from the power when they gave up on it.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Danny finally conceded, “let me at least wear one of the suits my parents made for me. You know, just in case.”

“Is it insulated?” Tucker chuckled.

“Yes, Tucker,” Danny retorted. “It is insulated, as a matter of fact.”

Danny walked to a cabinet labeled “Ecto Suits” and pulled out a white jumpsuit with a black collar. He adorned it as well as some black gloves and black boots. He noticed Tucker smirk as Sam attempted to suppress a snort. Danny stuck his tongue out at his two best friends in the world. He’d do anything for those jokers. Danny zipped up his new outfit and took a hesitant step towards the defunct portal.

“You guys really want to do this?” Danny had to force this last word out of his throat. He had been assured that he was safe, but was he really?

“Yeah,” Sam was gentle now. “You’ll be fine. All I want is a little picture of you in that neat thingy.”

Tucker put his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Don’t worry man, it’s unplugged.” Tucker pointed to a plug on the ground nearby, assuming it was the power source for the portal.

“That makes me feel a bit better.” Danny sighed, relieved. He took another few steps and was in front of the portal. It was eerie and echoey. “Oooo” Danny made a noise and heard it bounce off the metal walls inside.

“Go on,” Sam pushed Danny lightly.

“Hey! Okay, I’m going!” Danny took a step inside the portal. It felt … empty and big. Much bigger than it was. Longer too. The tube felt more like a tunnel at this point, Danny could see the end of the tunnel, but it felt like it was miles away. Danny felt heavy just taking one step inside. He took another and felt his body weigh him down even more. It was just the anxiety, Danny thought to himself. Your body gets heavy when it’s dreading something, right? But there was nothing to worry about, Danny assured himself.

Danny took a few more steps inside the portal and turned around to face the outside. He tasted ozone and he felt like his blood was made of lead. There was the quietest of ringings bouncing around in his head making him somewhat dizzy and his eyes felt like they were vibrating.

“Danny?” Sam asked.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” Sam looked concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s a bit spooky in here, though,” Danny let out a slight chuckle. “I’ll just suck it up for the picture.”

“Yeah, alright…” Sam trailed off. “Can you do a cool pose? Maybe put your hand against the side and lean or something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Danny began to place his hand on the side of the portal. As his hand neared the wall, the taste of ozone intensified and his nose started running. His hand was almost to the wall when Sam snapped a picture with her polaroid camera.

“Oops,” she looked nervous as she took out the not-yet-developed picture and handed it to Tucker.

Danny knew she wanted a better shot so he finally put his hand on the wall. Millimeters before his hand made contact, Danny’s fingers felt like cold metal replaced all of his bones. He let his hand rest on the wall to his left as he felt a button depress. Immediately, his heart started racing as he felt panic run up his chest. Daniel Fenton suddenly felt the most excruciating pain he had ever and will ever feel in his life. He felt hundreds of knives stab him at once in every single nerve in his body. An army of knives marched through his nervous system, stabbing down hard with every step. This march of pain within his body moved incredibly fast but at the same time that it moved agonizingly slow.

Danny didn’t feel his throat open up to release a blood curdling scream of pure, horrific pain. He didn’t feel himself drop to his knees, but he did feel that militia of marching, stabbing pain start again at his knees. All he saw was green, neon green, everywhere. He tasted blood and ozone, the lower half of his face, beneath his nose, was wet and sticky. His lips felt like they were drenched in lip gloss that tightened at every breath he took. His left wrist felt like he had laid on it for hours and suddenly moved. Danny knew he was dying.

When his face smacked the metal floor of the now functioning portal, he didn’t feel his nose break, just the pain get more intense and the struggle to breathe increased with his mouth submerged in a shallow pool of blood escaping his nose like a dam had been opened. Danny didn’t feel himself being dragged by his friends out of the portal and he didn’t see the horrified looks on their faces when they saw all the blood and smoke coming from his body. He didn’t feel Tucker grab a broom and poke him with it, he didn’t hear Sam smack Tucker and throw the broom to the wall. Danny didn’t hear his sister pound down the stair and scream at the sight, he didn’t hear Sam wailing and sobbing and pleading with Danny to please wake up, he didn’t hear her whisper, “I’m so sorry Danny, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault, why am I so stupid,” to his head. He didn’t hear his sister, Jazz screaming through her tears at Tucker, “What happened to him? Why is his hair white? Where did all this blood come from?” He didn’t hear Tucker crying, “I’m sorry, I thought it was unplugged, I’m so sorry Jazz, I’m so sorry.”

Danny did hear a ringing, though. He heard waves too. Or was that wind? Danny heard someone whisper but they were so far away.

Then, Danny saw black. Danny saw black and a very dark red. “What did you say?” Danny tried to say, but it was so much less than a whisper. Danny heard a thump, like someone dropping down to sit on a tile floor and the red he saw got brighter.

God, his eyes were so heavy. His lips felt like he had just eaten Elmer’s glue, like he used to do in Kindergarten. When Danny smiled a slight smile, as much as he had the strength to, his lips cracked and he relaxed his face to appease the pain.

Daniel Fenton cracked his eyes. Slowly, sound came back. A ringing gave way to someone screaming, “How could you let this happen? I thought you cared about him.” Someone else bawled, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want this to happen. Please, I’m so sorry, I love him so much.”

Danny was confused. Did he just walk in on someone's death? He couldn’t have, his back was cold and against the tile floor in… his basement? Who died in his basement?

“Oh, god.” Danny felt his stomach drop to his toes. “Did Tuck get hurt by some of Mom or Dad’s ghost shit?”

The room went silent. Danny pulled his eyes open, worried by what he might see.

“What the fuck was that Samantha,” Jazz had murder in her eyes. “Tell me what that was right now.”

“What was what?” Danny asked. He saw Jazz huddled over something in the middle of the room with Sam and Tucker near her. The body wasn’t Tucker’s.

Danny walked over to Jazz and his friends when Tucker looked his way and screamed as loud and as hard as he was capable of screaming. This spooked Danny who took a step to the side and looked at what was on the ground.

It was him.

Danny was looking at his own body on the floor. His now white hair was singed, his left arm was black, contrasting against his pale skin which had been exposed by a large rip in his not-so-insulated suit. It looked like the hand and half of the arm on the left side of the suit had burned off.

Suddenly the body moved and Danny saw the ceiling and his Sister looking over him. He turned his head and saw two scenes. He was looking at Sam while also looking at the now functional ghost portal with a different set of eyes. Danny moved his head back and was now only looking at his sister again.

Danny attempted to move to a sitting position, coughing droplets of blood when he tensed his muscles.

“Oh, my god.” Jazz breathed a sigh of relief, “Danny! Don’t sit up, here. I’ll help you.”

Jazz sort of dragged, sort of pushed Danny’s body closer to the wall, glaring at Tucker and Sam when they moved to help her. Jazz picked up Danny’s head and sat him against the wall of the Fenton Laboratory basement and inspected his face.

“God, Danny.” Jazz’s voice was soaked with concern. “There’s blood all over this place. Your nose is broken.”

Danny realized he couldn’t feel the ground beneath him the second he felt himself fall an inch and hit the ground. He saw a flash as he noticed a ring of light circling around his waist.

“Sam,” Jazz screamed, “what the fuck? My brother almost dies and you think this is the best fucking photo op to snag?”

“I’m sorry Jazz, I-I,” Sam stuttered, “I saw something.”

Jazz turned her head back to her brother, and gasped. “Danny! Your hair is back to normal!”

Barely audible, Danny mumbled; “myhairwasn’tnormal?”

“It was white,” Sam whisperspoke.

“And your suit went all reverse,” Tucker added at full volume from halfway across the room.

“I taste metal,” Danny stuck his tongue out, it looked like he had just been licking blood off of something.

“Probably from all that blood in your mouth.” Jazz’s forehead was the rocky mountains of concern. “And on your chin, down your shirt, all over the floor. God, Danny. We need to take you to the hospital.”

“No!” Danny and Tucker yelled at the same time.

“I’m fine, I feel fine, watch this!” Danny stood up and quickly fell back down demonstrating how not fine he was.

“Sorry, I just hate hospitals,” Tucker murmured. “I didn’t mean to say that…”

Sam waved a polaroid in the air, then gave it to Jazz.

The picture showed a bloodied Danny on the ground wearing a reverse colored “insulated” suit. It’s just a fucking picture of my almost-dead brother, Jazz thought. Then she saw it. There were two rings of light around his waist that looked like they were revealing the outfit Danny was wearing when he went downstairs. A NASA T-Shirt and blue jeans were peaking through the two circles of light. Jazz looked at Danny again and realized he wasn’t wearing the black version of his ecto suit anymore. It went away with the white of his hair.

“Danny, you’re still going to the hospital with me.” Jazz insisted. “Your nose is broken.”

Danny touched his nose and was immediately met with searing, red hot pain.

“Don’t touch it, idiot!” Jazz smacked Danny’s hand away from his nose. “When a part of your body is broken, that’s not an invitation to touch it!”

Danny looked at Sam and Tucker, scared.

Sam smiled at Danny. “We can talk about it after you go to the hospital. Do you want to have a fucked up nose for the rest of your life?”

Tucker walked closer to Danny and put his hand on Danny’s head. “I’m so fucking happy you’re okay, dude.”

“Can you walk?” Jazz asked as she stood up and reached for Danny’s hand.

Danny grabbed her hand and tried to get up for the second time. He watched his hand disappear from his sister's hand as her grip tightened around nothing. Danny fell back to the floor and screamed at his missing hand before it came back.

“Danny,” Jazz hissed, “we are going to the hospital now.”

Danny stood up on his own and followed his sister up the stairs to her car, parked outside. They drove to the hospital.

#losers lament #Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Jazz Fenton #Same Manson #Tucker Foley #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #help i worked so hard on this

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cordria · 4 years

Text

Regret

It was his mother’s birthday.

Danny Fenton slipped through the portal, careful not to be seen. He knew just what to get her - a flower from the depths of the ghost zone. It was a brilliant green rose-like flower with red leaves and thorns rumored to have some sort of magical properties. Danny wasn’t entirely sure what they were, but he knew his mother would love experimenting on it.

Kicking off the little spit of land the portal was located on, he spiraled into the wastes. He’d be home in a couple hours at most. Nobody would even notice he was gone.

Vlad Masters settled down at his desk, fingers brushing over the phone. It was Maddie’s birthday today. Slowly, his finger traced up and down the back of the handset, debating what to say. Last time, they hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Vlad was certain she was still harboring a bit of a grudge.

Perhaps he should just send a card.

“Oh grow a pair,” Vlad hissed at himself, picking up the phone.

The phone rang and rang and rang.

Vlad almost felt relieved when it clicked over to the overly-full voicemail and he got to hang up. Now he could send a card, and not find out what sort of things Maddie had to say about their last meeting.

Maddie Fenton was too busy to answer the phone. She was sitting at the kitchen table, staring down at a mess of data, trying to make sense of the numbers. It was just about to come together in her brain - she could feel it - and there was no way she was going to start over just to answer the phone when it was likely a computer telemarketer.

The data showed a bit of information Maddie had taken to calling the resonance-factor. She would send a ping of sound into the ghost zone, much like sonar, and collect data from its reflection. They were using it to create a map of the zone near the portal and track how the ghost zone’s physical layout changed. But she had noticed this strange echoing noise in the sound, and the echoing noise had been slowly getting worse and worse. Now it was messing with the data they were getting back so much their maps were no longer accurate.

But what was causing it? How to stop it from interfering with her exploration?

Danny curled past Skulker’s lair, noticing that it was much quieter than normal. Generally the hunter’s home was a cacophony of noise from his captured prey. Today there were just a few lonely mewls of sound. He hesitated, but shrugged and kept going. Who knew what went through that ghost’s mind.

Vlad signed the card with a flourish and set it in the envelope. It was a beautiful card that straddled the difference between felicitations and apologies for his latest choices. He stared down at the hunter green envelope, Maddie’s name already written in silver ink. Oh, how things would be easier if he could just explain the cause of his behavior.

But he couldn’t. That was just the way it was. He would simply have to do better.

He pushed away from his desk, deciding to invisibly drop the card in her home instead of mail it. As he flew out of his house and into the air, Vlad debated where the best place to leave the card was. Despite his initial leanings towards her pillow so she would read it before she went to bed and tenderly hold the card in her sleep, he decided the kitchen table would be more appropriate.

She was probably going to shred the card anyways, and the paper shredder was in the kitchen. He might as well be realistic - and perhaps she’d be appreciative of the fact that she didn’t have to walk as far.

Maddie scribbled on a piece of paper, creating a graph of her odd data. It was an s-shaped curve, growing slowly at first, then quickly, and was now slowing down again. She sat back in her chair.

She’d seen graphs like this in the ghost zone before - it was actually the most common energy growth pattern in that world. Ghosts themselves used a very similar pattern when they were going to be blasting something. A slow gathering of energy, then a quick spike in power, followed by a slow pooling of energy until it hit the appropriate level to create the blast. Of course, in ghosts it happened over tenths of a second instead of over days like this one.

The end of her pen went into her mouth and she chewed at it.

The graph was hinting at the idea that the ghost zone was in the final build up to something. Perhaps some sort of energy release.

But what? And why?

Danny flew deeper into the ghost zone, more and more feeling an odd sense of dread. Of course, a sense of dread in the ghost zone wasn’t exactly unheard-of, but this was definitely a weirder feeling than normal.

He hesitated at one point, hovering in place and looking around. There were very few ghosts around, and they were mostly the really small ones.

It was almost like something was… wrong.

He frowned, debating just heading home, when he saw a glowing spot of red and green. “Hey!” he said, grinning and diving down to the floating bit of rock. There was the flower he was looking for! “Perfect.”

Digging a pot and a shovel out of his bag, he settled down next to the flower and started digging it out of the ground.

Then he’d head home.

Vlad’s feet settled on the ground outside of FentonWorks. He paced back and forth for a moment, gathering up the courage to enter into the home. Hopefully his last computer hacks preventing the Fenton’s security system from recognizing him were still in place. Otherwise he’d set off every sensor in the home.

He walked through the back door, making sure he was invisible, and into the kitchen. He hesitated, noticing Maddie sitting at the messy kitchen table, chewing on the end of her pen. That threw a wrench into his plans.

Perhaps he could now leave the card on her pillow… And steal Jack’s at the same time.

He tossed the idea out of his head and walked over, glancing down at what she was doing. Energy graphs. Really basic ghost zone physics that even he understood. So why was she worrying over them?

He squinted closer. An echo in her sonar data.

Resonance.

He let his card fall to the ground, feeling his stomach drop. “Shit,” he whispered.

Maddie heard someone breathe a quiet, “shit,” from right behind her ear. She tensed and twirled, weapon going up before she even had identified the fact that there was nothing there. She waited, gun up and aimed towards where the voice had come from.

There was the slightest of cold breezes. A ghost.

“I know you’re there,” she demanded. “How did you get into my house?”

The ghost shifted into view - the vampiric one that was always tormenting Jack. “Why, hello my dear,” it said with a greasy smile.

“Hello nothing,” she snapped. “What are you doing in my house?”

“Why,” the ghost hesitated, “I’m looking at your data. And what an excellent graph you’ve made.”

Maddie’s eyes narrowed. That wasn’t the whole truth, obviously. The ghost hadn’t known about her data until it had already entered her home. But, based on the quiet exclamation from earlier, the ghost understood the purpose of the graph. And she was… curious. “What does this mean?” she asked, gesturing towards the papers with one hand, the other keeping the gun steady on the ghost’s face.

“It means we need to shut your portal down.”

“Ah… no. I don’t think so.” Maddie tipped her head. “Not without an excellent explanation.”

Danny grinned, slipping the shovel back into his backpack and studying his prize. Yeah, he’d done a hack-job on it’s roots - but who would have expected a ghost flower (a dead flower?) to have such an extensive system of roots? Hopefully he hadn’t killed it. He grabbed the pot, tucking it under his arm, and glanced around.

The quiet was unsettling. And there was this… it wasn’t quite a noise. Danny couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was something like the rumble of a really low, low tone. That he could feel in his stomach more so than his ears. And it was getting louder.

“I’m going to get out of here too,” Danny muttered, shooting into the air and heading back towards the portal, plant firmly tucked under his arm.

Vlad didn’t really have time for an explanation. He needed to shut down the Fenton’s portal, then head home and shut down his own. If he was right, he didn’t need the collateral damage ending up in his town. The city didn’t have the budget for it, and the city’s insurance agent had been quite clear that they weren’t going to cover any Fenton-related damages any longer.

But the weapon Maddie was holding was a powerful one. It would hurt, and perhaps cause permanent damage. He had little choice in the matter.

His fingers curled behind his back, clasping each hand. “Ghosts are immortal, yes? Then there should be an infinite number of them... us, clogging up the ghost zone. So there’s a natural balancing mechanism in the ghost zone. When too many ghosts start to build up in one place, too much energy is taken from the environment and the ghost zone reacts to it by annihilating all the ghosts in the area.”

He watched her blink and take that in.

“When the blast wave goes by, you don’t want to be in the vicinity. Your home doesn’t want to be in the vicinity.”

“I’m not sure that sounds…”

She was speaking too slowly, obviously trying to think through it, and Vlad simply did not have the time for it. “I can come back and give you the longer explanation and spend hours explaining the data to you, but we do not have a lot of time right now.”

Her lips tightened. But then she nodded. “I don’t trust ghosts, but I can accept the data points in that sort of direction. You leave, I’ll shut down the portal.”

“I’ll help-”

“You’ll leave.” Maddie’s voice booked no room for disagreement.

Vlad was quite sure that doing anything other than vanishing would get him shot. He narrowed his eyes, waited a beat more, then vanished and headed home.

It took Maddie almost a minute to make sure the ghost was gone. She was spooked by the fact that it could get into her house in the first place - there was a bug in the detection equipment that would need to be sorted out relatively quickly - and had to track down a secondary detector before she was willing to let down her guard.

Shutting down the portal was another story. It was powered by the ghost zone itself, now that it was up and running, and pulling the cord would simply shut down the doors and sensing equipment. There was a way to shut it down, she just didn’t like doing it.

But the ghost had looked spooked. And the data… was pointing in the direction the ghost had indicated. Whatever huge energy blast was building in the ghost zone, she wanted nothing to do with it in her home.

She swore softly and picked up the Fenton Shut-er-Down-her (she hadn’t named it), weighing the grenade-like object in her hand. It would create a huge blast of foam that would block energy from accessing the portal from the other side, shutting it down as effectively as snuffing out a candle by cutting off the oxygen supply.

It would be killer to get the thing reopened. Weeks of work. On the word of a ghost.

Maddie sighed, pulled the activator on the device, and tossed it through the portal, thumbing the doors shut behind it.

Danny was twenty feet from the portal when the foam exploded. He pulled up fast, startled by the rapidly expanding white goo. Within seconds, the portal was completely buried.

He settled down on the bit of rock, feeling the environment around him shaking with the force of the whatever-it-was. He walked up to the foam, reaching out to touch it. It was steaming hot and sticky, still bubbling and growing like some sort of alien monster.

Behind the wall of foam, the green glow of the portal vanished. Danny felt the portal shut off deep inside him, like a punch to the gut.

“That doesn’t bode well,” he whispered, setting down the flower (he could come back for it later) and glancing around. “This is unsettling enough for now, let’s just get home. Vlad’s is… that-a-way?”

He took off at top speed.

Vlad made it home in nearly record time (not that he had ever timed it, of course, he was far too old to be timing how fast he could fly). He slipped right into the hallway, walking up to the picture that hid his portal. The button clicked under his finger, and the giant painting slid to the side.

He had a similar problem to Maddie’s - portals are not so easy to shut down when they are powered by the ghost zone itself - however he had a much less elegant and far more expensive solution. He turned the power controls up to maximum. In a matter of moments, the portal would overload, fry the circuits, and cause a controlled blast out into the ghost zone. It would destroy everything in the area (and his portal) but the damage on this side would be minimal, contained by the portal’s door.

“Horrible timing,” he informed the ghost zone as he heard the portal start to whine. He’d known this was coming; the density of the ghosts had been getting too high. The energy in the ghost zone had been feeling more and more fragile. But he’d just been getting settled, got the ghosts to understand to leave him alone, and everything was getting nice and quiet.

His finger hovered over the controls for the door.

Maddie stared at the dark portal. A portion of the foam had come through to this side, effectively gluing the portal shut. Behind the doors, no doubt the device was filled with the steaming foam, covering all the circuits and wires.

Jack was going to be very unhappy when he got back with her ‘surprise’ birthday cake.

There was a short-ish window of time before the foam set up hard. She would have to start cleaning.

“Danny!” she called. “Come help me get this cleaned up!”

Silence.

Danny found the floating purple football and pushed it out of the way. “Found you!” he said, diving forwards.

The portal’s door was closing. Danny picked up speed, but he wasn’t going to make it. In the small space left open, Danny could see Vlad staring back at him.

“Vlad!” he called. “Wait!”

There was an odd expression on Vlad’s face as the door slammed shut, locking the portal shut and locking Danny into the ghost zone: regret.

Danny hovered, not entirely sure what to do. He rubbed his forehead, starting to get a headache from the constant throbbing. Then he turned. He had two options left - Clockwork and Frostbite. He had to get to one of them. They would know what was going on. They’d help.

He had barely started flying when Vlad’s portal ripped itself to shreds. Danny screamed, tucking into a ball and avoiding the worst of the shrapnel. he tumbled out of control, his arm flashing bright pain. By the time he drifted to a stop, goo was oozing down a huge slice in his arm and his ears were ringing and he wasn’t entirely sure which direction was up.

It took a precious few minutes for Danny’s mind to start working again. He flew in the direction he hoped Clockwork’s tower was, worried. Both his parents and Vlad had shut down their portals. The deep sound was getting worse, and the silent emptiness around him was starting to get terrifying.

He flew faster and faster, pushing himself to his limits. He had no idea what was going on, but he wanted out of it.

He hoped this time he wouldn’t be too late.

#dannymay2020 #quick writing #i just kept writing and writing #i still am not sure i want to stop #it was fun writing in a rotating pov #and an interesting challenge to line the story up in the right order so the right people tell the right parts

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writingpitcheswearingpearls · 4 years

Text

Writing Prompt: Birthday

“Test number seventy-eight is stable. Sending the data down to you now.” Danny commented as he tapped the screen of his communicator, before floating over to the storage container and putting away the ectoplasm sample they’d been using for today’s test. For anyone else, the idea of being able to float everywhere may have been cool, but after working with Phantom for years it was beyond second nature at this point. The ghost himself was happily putting away the tools they’d been using, seeming suspiciously perky for just a run of the mill experiment.

“Great work, boys. These results will give us massive strides in the future of space travel and clean energy.” Complimented Anderson, their Ground Control Commander.

“All in a day’s work!” Danny replied, beaming into the camera that recorded their activities. In his peripheral vision, he could see Phantom floating towards him with a grin that told him that the ghost was about to say what was probably a bad joke.

“Don’t you mean “all in a birthday’s work”?” He asked, lightly jabbing an elbow into Danny’s side.

“What? Oh! It’s my birthday already?” Danny thought out loud. He had to think for a moment about what day it was, realising that it was indeed his birthday. Without day and night, the passage of time had become mildly confusing up in space.

“That reminds me; Phantom, you request has been granted. Fenton? Happy Birthday.” With that brief note, the communicator made a light beeping noise to indicate that Anderson had ended the call. Danny’s curiosity was officially piqued.

“What did he mean? What request?” He questioned, turning to Phantom

“I asked if I could do something special for you for your birthday.” Phantom replied coyly. Danny felt the excitement build and he couldn’t help but give a little clap.

“Oh! What is it?” At Danny’s question, Phantom tutted and wagged his index at him.

“Wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you! Now put on your suit while I get it set up.” Was all he revealed, chuckling lightly before phasing out of the shuttle.

As Danny carefully assembled his suit for exiting the shuttle, he buzzed with anticipation for what the surprise could be. It was increasingly difficult to brainstorm what is was, as his brain kept screaming “having sex in space” even though he knew that it was impossible to do considering his suit and there’s absolutely no way Phantom could have possibly asked for or received permission to do so. Being left essentially alone with Phantom for such a long stretch of time without being able to have sex or even mess around was basically torture. Eventually, Phantom reappeared in the shuttle, checking over Danny’s suit to make sure that everything was secure before he led Danny to the airlock exit.

When they reached outside, Danny couldn’t help but gasp in shock and wonder. Phantom had set up a molecular field scattered with glowing, twinkling lights floating within it in a way that made it look like the field was containing tiny stars. Phantom lead Danny into the field, watching the human’s expression with a barely hidden enthusiasm. Danny reached out and tried to touch one of the lights, but as the glove of his suit brushed against it, the light was gently pushed away, bouncing off the side of the invisible field and slowing down until it stopped again.

“Do you like it?” Phantom blurted, seemingly unable to wait for Danny’s reaction any longer.

“I love it, Phantom. It’s so beautiful. But why? Why the molecular field?” Danny asked, turning back to look at Phantom and seeing the ghost’s expression settle into a look of romantic longing.

“Needed the air. Otherwise we wouldn’t be able to hear the music.” Phantom answered with a debonair smile. Before Danny could question “what music?”, Phantom pulled out a small remote from his belt and hit one of the buttons. Immediately, the gentle sounds of a piano began playing out of the devices attached to the field generators that Danny had assumed were stabilisers, which he now realised were speakers. This wasn’t some off the cuff idea; Phantom had been planning this since they were on Earth.

“You told me once that you wanted to dance among the stars. Well, I think this is the closest that anyone could ever get to living that dream.” Phantom explained, pausing to chuckle and Danny couldn’t help but join in.

“So how about it? Will you dance with me among the stars, Danny?” Phantom asked, offering his hand out to Danny with a soft, enamoured expression. Danny took his hand with no hesitation, as there was no need in his mind for the question. Ever since Phantom came into his life, the ghost had become an integral part of all his hopes and dreams. As Phantom pulled him close, the sound of strings faded into the music, filling out the depth of the song in a way that only enhanced the moment. He gripped his arms tightly around Phantom’s shoulders and he could have sworn the cello was playing how he was feeling; deeply and calmly happy and undeniably in love. Danny let Phantom move him around the space of the field in an almost waltz, and found himself intensely grateful that the advanced space suit he was wearing was much more streamline than old school suits and allowed him to be held so much closer to his partner. As much as he just wanted to kiss Phantom at that moment, he was content enough just being able to hold his love without anybody watching and to truly be at peace as they danced among the stars together.

“Happy Birthday, Danny.” Phantom whispered, winding his arms around Danny’s waist just a little bit tighter.

Best birthday ever.

#Danny Phantom #pitchpearl #pitch pearl #danny fenton/danny phantom #danny fenton x danny phantom #fan fiction #writing prompt

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goliath-de-senfina-sango · 4 years

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They say no plan survives contact with the enemy. Danny wishes they were wrong.

Dash Baxter was a conflicted person right now. He’d been feeling off practically all school year, and Valerie, Star, and Paulina were about ready to tell him to fuck off while they went and did their own awesome friend stuff. If he was pressed to think about it hard, he would say that it started when Manson had gotten the school to change the menu for a whole ass week. Now, Dash typically cooked or baked his own food anyway, so it was hardly something that sucked for him but plenty of his teammates bought lunch at school and they weren’t weird vegans like Manson! He’d gone up to her to give her a piece of his mind about all of that shit since he couldn’t exactly go yell at a teacher, and maybe he shouldn’t have yelled but he was angry and his voice got louder when he was mad.

Then Fenton got between them like Dash was gonna throw hands with Manson or something. Don’t get him wrong, he knows how dangerous a girl can be – Valerie would never have been friends with him if he didn’t respect how dangerous a girl like her could be – but his father had raised him to never lay hands on a woman. And besides, Dash wasn’t feeling violent! Or, at least, he didn’t think he had been.

Except that when Fenton got between them, Dash had been pissed. He’d gone from mad to unseeing rage and stuffed one of the dumb mudpies in Fenton’s face, and then Fenton started throwin the garbage, and then a food fight happened. Now, some people might think that his year was off because of the fire that happened after this food fight, but it was actually the start of it. Dash Baxter only threw hands when someone was threatening his friends, not for getting between him and someone else. Not for nothing. It was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever done in his life and he felt horrible about it afterward but he couldn’t think of what had gotten into him.

Worse still was when it kept happening. Mikey and Lester were rambling kinda loudly about some stupid card game and Dash got annoyed, went over to ask them to quiet down. Then there was this weird this rush of some sorta warm slimy something down his spine that was there and gone in a flash, and he was barking at the two of them, “Shut the hell up or else I’ll make you.” He almost didn’t realize he’d said that but then Kwan elbowed him hard in the ribs and Dash winced, running a hand through his hair. “God, did I say that? Shit, sorry dudes I didn’t mean that!”

Except… he did. Dash was the one who said it, right? And he said it practically automatically, without even thinking it. Was that who he was becoming? Was he turning into his grandfather? Kwan promised him he wasn’t, Vincent said he wouldn’t let Dash turn into his gramps, but then Dash was shoving scrawnier kids into the lockers out of his way, and he’d been about to mouth off to Fenton for no freakin reason other than he was there and his freaky mad scientist parents had to be the ones to put that green fire and stuff. Then a god damn monster popped out of Fenton’s locker, attacked Foley, and Dash was out of there.

Right after the fire the school had everyone set up meetings with the counselor, Dr. Spectra, and Dash went too, just like everyone. She even gave him a journal to write his feelings down in so he could work out what he was feeling and put it in words at his own pace. He didn’t like how she was implying that he couldn’t put his feelings into words at the same speed as everyone else, but if she was then hey, she wasn’t… she wasn’t wrong . And after writing it all down in that black journal, Dash came to a bit of a conclusion: Fenton was at the center of all of this.

Danny Fenton was a bit of a freak already, his eyes glowed when he was pissy even back in 6th grade and Dash knew it had to be because his parents were mad fucking scientists and either they experimented on their kids or the radiation in their house had gotten to em. And now that freakiness was popping up and destroying the whole damn school! Hell, Dash was pretty sure one of the Fentons’ damn ghosts had stuffed a buncha frogs down his pants the other day, cause he heard laughter when he ran away. But that had nothing on how furious Dash had been when Fenton called him stupid .

Dash wasn’t fucking dumb he was a little slow but so were plenty kids! Nerds and geeks like Fenton and Mikey and Josh all thought they were so fucking smart that they could get away with calling anyone else stupid ? Dash had been planning on educating Fenton on just how smart an idea that was. Then Falluka yelled at him and Kwan… God, Kwan looked so fucking disappointed in him.

So Dash was feeling a little conflicted and a lot shitty when Danny Motherfucking Fenton walked up to him in his star trek hoodie and said, “Dash I need your help.”

“Oh yeah?” Dash snorted and sneered at the smaller boy. “Why should I help?”

“You remember the monster thing that nearly tore off Tucker’s leg?” Dash paled a bit and nodded. “Something worse is lurking in the school. Something smart. We need your help to expose it before we can get rid of it.”

“So you want me to put my ass on the line and risk getting mauled because your freaky monster is out here lookin to eat someone?” Dash scoffed and turned away. “I ain’t stupid, Fentina, no matter what you think.”

There was a growl behind him and the hairs on Dash’s neck rose up. He tensed and damn near sprinted when he remembered that Fenton was packing heat. Maybe he was stupid. But then Fenton sighed and the lights flickered. “Dash, did you notice that you’ve become more and more of a jerk lately? You used to be the awesome jock who could run faster than everyone but Valerie and you made cookies for the whole class.

“Now you insult everyone at every turn and you tried to beat me up for telling you off. Doesn’t that feel wrong to you? I know nobody wants to believe my parents about the ghosts but you saw the monster, you saw Tucker bleeding and this is real Dash. And what do ghosts do in movies?”

“You sayin I’m possessed, Fenton?” His voice was shakier than he wanted it but it made… well sense was the wrong word but it lined up. “Wouldn’t I blackout or somethin?”

“Not necessarily. Some ghosts are smart n subtle and they can make you do things, feel things enough times while you’re awake that it’s habit-forming. My friend Sydney Poindexter can show you.”

Dread hit Dash like a tidal wave and he turned to bolt. Then he was cold and he relaxed all over, went deathly calm. He was submerged in the utmost chill vibes. Then he was utterly terrified, so much so he almost needed a change of pants. But then he was over the moon happy, frothing at the mouth pissed and then calm again.

The heat slowly returned to Dash’s bones as the back of something- someone filled his vision. Then he was looking at the bucktoothed, weak chinned weird movie hologram ghost of - if Fenton was to be believed - Sydney fucking Poindexter . “You see, Dash,” Fenton said while Dash stared at Poindexter with a very real sense of dread and awareness that someone who could fly could catch him faster than he could run, “if Sydney here were to possess you from time to time and adjust your mood and behavior just a little bit each time, especially over the few months we’ve been in school, you’d start doing everything he made you do on your own. You wouldn’t notice it either, it’d feel like your own feelings.” Dash finally looked at Fenton. “Got the picture, Dash?”

“... I thought your family hunted ghosts down?” Dash’s voice was as small as he felt. Because of that, he nodded quickly when he realized he’d been asked a question. “Y-yeah, I get the picture. I’ve been. I’ve been fucking possessed. ” Icy hot fury and horror filled him up to the brim and Dash shook, fists clenching and unclenching. “I’m being haunted by someone and they’re fuckin with what kinda person I am. But who the hell would do that?”

“Dash, Sydney is going to hide so that Ishiyama doesn’t turn on the security system and shoot holes through him - and he’s a good person, Dash, trust me.” Yeah, sure he is. “And we’re gonna go to the principal and have her call a very specific person to the front office. I need you and I to be hiding right next to the door to the hall, because when he sees you, he’ll know what’s happening.” Fenton reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out- ok, he really did have bottomless pockets because no way he kept a gun and a belt in there. He handed it to Dash who held it in his hands, feeling a bit numb. “Put that on. It’ll give a nasty shock to any hostile ghost that touches you.”

“So that he can’t possess me again, right?” Fenton nodded and Dash was putting the belt on before he even knew it. It clicked into place and he felt a warm buzz rush through him. “Fuck, thanks Fenton. Danny. Do we uh. Do we go now?”

“Dash you’re heading to practice,” Fe-Danny said, and Dash sighed and slumped against a locker. “Don’t worry though, we have a plan.”

“Right. A plan.” Dash took a deep breath and nodded. He wanted to get whatever ghost asshole had been messing him up, making him into a total asshole, right the fuck then. But Fenton was the nerd with the sci-fi gun and a ghost friend here, not Dash. And he wasn’t all that keen on being near Poindexter of all dead people, so he nodded again and half turned. “...This… after this ghost dude is dealt with, I’ll… I’ll go back to normal, right?”

“That’ll take some effort on your part, Dash. Do you want to go back to normal?” Dash whirled around to tell Fenton of course he did but he was just gone.

Dash scoffed and shook his head, walking to practice. “Got his boyfriend’s dramatics.”

It was legitimately the simplest of plans. Danny had come up with it so it was very simple and easy to understand. Danny and Dash headed into Ishiyama’s office at lunch, Sydney waited just outside of Danny’s own sensing range for him - which had gotten alarmingly smaller since his resurrection - and when Dash identified Bertrand as his late grandfather, Danny, Sam and Tucker would turn him into a pile of green sludge, then go after Spectra after making the case that she was also something inhuman disguising herself to feed off of the students. Simple.

Easy to understand didn’t mean easy to execute. When Danny Fenton of all people approached Ishiyama and said something was up, with Dash Baxter backing him up, she called up Bertrand Baxter to her office. Dash looked absolutely floored by that revelation though and turned on Danny immediately. “Are you saying my fucking grandpa is the one who’s been haunting me?”

“I really hope you’re not like, attached to him or anything.”

“Oh no, he was awful but dude, you knew? ” Danny sighed and nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He could’ve possessed you in the shower when you took off the belt and figured out how much we know.” Danny looked to Ishiyama, who had gone pale and was typing furiously at her laptop. Danny, however, headed to the door to the hallway and crouched down, reaching into his jacket. Dash was still standing in the doorway to the principal’s office, however, and so when Bertrand came in and Danny got to see his disguise for the first time - short, grey slacks with dress shoes and a red dress shirt with a suit jacket and bowtie. His hair was grey and his eyes were green and he looked like a stereotypical rich white guy, reminding Danny how wealthy Dash actually was - Bertrand stopped and stared at Dash for three seconds.

“Oh. you. Wonderful to see you again you sissy ass brute, have you been sewing anymore wittle teddybears for yourself or are your sausage fingers too big for that?” Oh, Danny hated that tone. So, he pulled out his rifle, aimed it at Bertrand’s face, and smirked.

“Wow, you looked slimy in life too, huh?” Danny got to see wide green eyes filled with shock and terror before he squeezed the trigger on his gun and Bertrand became a green splat on the wall that Danny would have to clean up later.

“You didn’t even leave a little bit of ass for me to kick?” Sam groaned as she stood up from behind the wait desk, patting the shaking attendant’s back while she got closer. In her hands was a thin metal tube with the Fenton Logo on it and a button, looking to any trained eye like a typical collapsible bo staff. “I got this whole new weapon from your mom and everything.”

“Please don’t say that in front of the principal - and hey, we’ve got more ass to kick.” Danny grinned, maybe a bit wider than humanly reasonable, and turned to Ishiyama. “I’d like to make a complaint about Bertrand’s boss.”

“You can make that complaint to her right here in person, darling. ” Danny spun to look at the source of the predatory purr that was damn near right in his ear. Red suit, red hair done up in ridiculous horns, and eyes that were slowly shifting from green to yellow to orange. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet, Mr. Fenton, but it’ll be my pleasure to give yourself and your friends a session. Free of charge.”

“Hm, I hear you, Penny, I do. Counterpoint.” Danny grinned as Sam hit the button and swung her now humming staff - the Fenton Anti Creep Stick™ - at Spectra’s face and watched as it sailed through the air where Spectra had been. The creature named Penelope had twisted back and around fluid as water to avoid the strike and spun around, kicking Sam in the gut and knocking her into the reception desk. Danny snarled and raised his rifle, managing to shoot Spectra in the shoulder.

Spectra flicked the ashes from her shoulder where her suit and ‘skin’ had been burned - though her skin looked more like it’d suffered a fading sunburn than it did a glob of ionized ectoplasmic plasma - and backhanded a shocked Danny. He raised his arms in time to block the nails that were now claws with his jacket, but these sleeves were cotton and simply tore open while he was flung back as well. “Oh Danny, honey, you should really do your research more. I’m not a ghost .” Darkness flooded the room and they - Danny, Sam, Tucker, Dash - were in what Danny assumed to be her office. He hissed and pulled out the Peeler, but that was smacked out of his hands and clattered loudly to the floor.

The others disappeared in a cloud of smoke, which the room was steadily becoming. “Come now, Danny, none of that. We’re here to talk, after all. About you, before you ask. After all, you have quite a few pressing anxieties to address, don’t you?” A clipboard appeared in her hands from the smoke all around them and she read over it while Danny reached for the bonds to his friends. The threads were… slack, dim, quieter than they should be.

“Daniel James Fenton, your sister had an appointment set up with me for you, worried unlike every other child here you weren’t getting enough attention. But of course, someone like you can never get enough attention.”

“When I get my hands on you I-”

“Ah, that testosterone you keep shooting up with really is making you more aggressive, isn’t it?” Danny snarled at her and she tutted at him, walking slowly around her desk. “Or is that the ectoplasm running through your veins causing you to act out violently on mere speculations and possibilities from what’s more than likely just a bad dream from your little friend. That’s what it does, after all. Corrupt the mind and soul. Oh, but of course you know that, don’t you?

“Your parents have all the science on ghosts at their fingertips and surely you’re smart enough to read up on it. Oh,” she covered her mouth and sucked on her teeth, looking all the world like she’d just noticed something inconsiderate coming out of her vile mouth before vanishing into the darkness. “Oh, well I suppose you could read it but it wouldn’t stick, would it? The dead can’t learn anything new, after all, you’re just an echo of who you were before.”

“Bias and prejudice aren’t science!” Danny raised his rifle again, energy racing to his eyes as he searched the shadows desperately. The light rose to his call, filled him untethered him from the Earth, but what he Saw felt wrong . Even the lies the eyes tell him are truer than what was around him and he knew that but he couldn’t see through the smoke. “Sam and Tucker have hammered that into me plenty well enough by now to cut through bullshit like that! And really, I liked your office better after that flubber wannabe and I trashed it.”

A flash of red suit came into view and Danny pulled the trigger, but Spectra was faster than the green hot plasma, and claws swatted his weapon away while slashing at his chest. Thank Tucker for leather jackets and all the protection they offered but now Danny was on his back, the ground and somehow the kind of uncomfortable chair that all schools used to punish the students for the simple crime of being there.

“Ah yes, Sam the rich goth girl who befriended you as soon as she heard that you were the son of the town crazies. The one who warned you away from coming out to your parents so they could help you become normal again - or as close as someone like You can get.” She laughed, the sound of ice spilling down a glacier into the cold dark waters below, and it echoed around him like the chill of a winter night. “Don’t you know she’s only friends with you because you’re ‘unique’? Because you’re a freak ? Don’t you know, oh so darling Danny, that as soon if you were able to get rid of all this craziness and live a peaceful life, she’d grow bored with you and leave?”

“You don’t know a damn thing about Sam, she’s not like that!” Danny rolled out of the chair and got to his feet, every movement like he was covered in sandbags and the smokey shadows every two feet away seemed to swallow up his voice, growing darker and pressing closer like a rolling tide. Light curled into a ball in his palm, and he hurled it where Spectra was, but the shadows ate his light and left barely a foot in any direction to move.

“Oh and the year you’ve known her has revealed everything to you, hm? Well, I suppose when someone murders you with peer pressure and you stick around them it’s clear how pathetically desperate for another friend you are. After all, the only other one you have is your oh so precious Tucker . Precious, pragmatic Tucker who cheered you on to go to your parents about all this, more than ok with you getting dissected for it. After all, he’s a smart boy and you can’t have fooled him as well as you fooled yourself into thinking you’re the same Danny Fenton he knew before you died.”

Spectra laughed again, claws digging into his shoulders, and anger, resentment, and fury rang through his soul, the chime of a burning bell. Light struck Spectra in the face, the Fomorian’s cackles finally cut off with a shriek of pain as she stumbled back and the choking darkness ebbed a foot away again. Danny snarled at her, spying the empty hollowness where his light had sheared off the false skin on her face, another ball of orange-silver light crackling at his fingertips.

“You keep Tucker’s name out of your filthy lying mouth! He would never hurt me!”

“He sure did take his time making you any sort of protection though, and once he got your parents to give him something that made his very touch a taser’s spark to your skin he wasn’t in any rush to modify it for your safety. Almost like he didn’t want you able to touch him, or he didn’t feel like making you something genuinely substantial as protection - after all, he finally got another one working and where did that end up? On Dash.” Danny stepped back when the shadows closed around Spectra once again, glaring into the dark of her office and kicking the desk to the wall for room. It didn’t even clatter against the wall when it vanished from his sight and he couldn’t tell if that was because there was no wall or if he was simply losing his stars forsaken mind.

“Modifying the Spector Deflector took time, you slippery little oil stain, now come out where I can punch you.”

“It hardly took time for your parents to make it, did it? And oh your parents.” She purred, voice taking on a cloyingly sweet tone and Danny shuddered at the cold against his skin, the smoke curling against his jacket and following him as he flew up to the ceiling to make some room. Now, though, it looked like he was trapped in the abyss with no floor, no ceiling, no way anywhere and if he ever stopped flying he would fall and fall and fall and there was no end to this darkness, no stars to sing to him and comfort him and it was like the times before his very first self .

“We can’t forget the source of all this anguish can we? Those darn parents of yours that put ghost hunting and science and your better sibling before you the whole of our life and even your afterlife! Oh, even you know now that normal old human authorities would clutch their pearls and steal you away to a safer place to live than with them. How many times have you had artificial ectoplasm in your food, either poisoning you or bringing it to life for you all to fend off? How many times have they barged into your room with no concern for your privacy and dragged you away to do work for them like an intern? How many times have you nearly died because dear old Dr. and Dr. Fenton couldn’t be bothered to make their home a safe place for a child?”

Danny curled up into a ball then, clutching at his head and closing his eyes. The star song that rang through his body and warmed his bones when he was a ghost grew dimmer and darker and colder with each word out of the dark and past the echoes it took a moment to realize that whining sound was coming from him. “Shut up! Shut up shut up, you don’t- so they’re a little clumsy! No one can be the best parents ever, and they love us! They love me!”

“Is that why they killed you?” That laughter felt like a slap to the face and Danny slipped into intangibility, only to fall from the air as his power left him, and he landed on the cold hard ground, alone and shaking. “Your father so careless with the most outrageously dangerous things that he left a doorway to the land of the dead plugged in even with the door to the lab still open. Your mother, so stubborn, so sure of herself, would never listen to your advice on how to simply not mutate the food that her family eats let alone listen about how ghosts actually work from you . Daddy dearest doesn’t truly care what you want to be, he knows that you’re not smart enough to become an astronaut, skilled enough to live off your art alone, and that all you really have to fall back on is the family business of ghost hunting, so why shouldn’t he talk over you about it all? Your own precious Mommy didn’t have an answer for you as to what she’d do if she knew you were a ghost.

“Oh, your parents are just so awful that they went and let you die, and you don’t want to face the truth of it? Is it because you’re afraid that you’re just like them, keeping Agatha locked up in that soup can for a whole weekend before you let her out, turning Hunter into a splatter on the ground, shooting my dearest little assistant because he’s a ghost? Or is it because you know, deep down, that what they would do as soon as they knew you’re not human is strap you down and cut you up to see what you actually are. You don’t even know, after all!”

His light was a pinprick in the distance, practically gone and with it the gossamer strings that bound him to his friends and let him know he wasn’t alone. They were gone because he was alone, wasn’t he? How could he not be, with whatever the hell he was? There wasn’t a thing out there like him, and if the dark pressing in on him like oil choked sea water swallowed him up then no one would truly understand what was lost. Would they even feel they lost something at all?

“Are you a ghost pretending to be human again? Or are you a creepy little boy with creepy little powers? A changeling left behind by a faerie through that portal, or some kind of curse? Oh, who cares what you are? Not a boy, not a ghost, not a fae or jinni or beast of this earth! Who could possibly care for a thing - a mistake like little Danny Fenton? Or should I say, C-”

Orange, fury, protect, love, wrath, HOW DARE SHE blazed down the bond between Danny and Jazz and filled him with a warmth he’d near forgotten existed. Green light cut through the darkness and engulfed Spectra, peeling away her suit and her skin and the darkness that made her up like one might an onion or potato. “ How dare you, you worthless parasite? How dare you lay a single clawed hand on my baby brother while you sit here, curled up in your precious darkness to hide from the truth that would burn away your empty, worthless lies?” Danny had never heard Jazz so angry, had never seen such fire in her aura and it kindled that spark inside of him that was growing oh so distant. “Sydney?”

Danny had never loved the color green so much before he saw peridot flames leap from Sydney’s hands and engulf the room, before sweeping in to swallow Spectra up in a pile of burning rot . They were back in Ishiyama’s office and the waiting room before it, Tucker and Sam and Dash all pale and shaking like they were freezing, but the heat of Sydney’s flames and the rage in his screams were like a camp fire in the cold woods. When Danny turned to see Jazz she was practically a chrome and green knight, wearing armor he’d never seen before and brandishing the Peeler at Spectra like a shotgun at a mugger. “I can’t believe I thought someone so pathetic they had to pick at the insecurities of literal children for a misery meal would do anything to help my brother.” She squeezed the trigger and held it until even Spectra’s shrieks of agony were nothing more than echoes in the room.

Jazz turned to Danny and before she was even fully out of the armor he had his arms wrapped around her, clinging tight to the only person that felt well and truly real at the moment. She hugged him back just as fast and relief slammed into the horror and misery and blended with the vindication until he couldn’t tell what feeling it was that blurred his vision and made his face wet with tears, but when Jazz ran a hand down his back he shook with the force of his sobs. Tucker and Sam put hands on his shoulders and the threads between them were a sickly puce and bloody red that had him dragging them both into the hug with him. They stood there, leaning on each other in the office and crying, and some part of Danny knew that they were going to be alright.

They had each other, and nothing could get to them when they were with each other, right?

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anthropwashere · 4 years

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phango19: we go around, one foot nailed down

\o/ 30th DP fic and it’s the infamous dissection trope \o/

(you know I had to do it to ‘em)

Legit though, I’ve been wanting to write a DP dissection fic since, jeez, since I joined the fandom in '13 probably. It's practically a rite of passage to have one of these under your belt, isn't it? So here's me, giving you the gift of Danny Having a Bad Time.

There'll be some notes about the research I did for this one for the curious at the end, but apologies to anyone with an ounce of scientific know-how. I almost failed high school chemistry and that was something like 12 years ago. I am but a simple idiot with Internet access. Please call me out if there's something egregious in need of correction; otherwise... blame it on ghostly handwavium?

Title comes from TOOL’s “Pneuma.”

AO3 | FFN

It had been agony, at first. But like anything he’s ever set his mind to, it’s gotten easier with practice.

He’s had plenty of opportunities to practice.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish he could quit the whole ugly business right this moment. Burn every file, lock the lab up for good, and pray for no more nightmares. But this ugly business needs doing and he’s the only one for it. He can’t allow Maddie to shoulder any more of this burden than she’s already insisted on. He won’t let those white-suited bastards lay so much as a finger on his family either, not while he’s got any say in it. There'll be hell to pay for going toe-to-toe with the GIW, but that's fine. He doesn’t care what happens to him anymore, so long as Maddie and Jazz are kept clean of all consequences.

If his luck holds out the courts will be hashing it all out for a while yet anyway. He’s never had a head for fine print or subtlety, nor doing anything so morally gray as—well. Everything lately. What should be done is clear as day to him, but if the courts agreed that easily with the GIW he wouldn't have a chance to make up for what he’s done.

He needs to do that much.

The courts and those bastards will eventually agree he doesn’t have a leg to stand on, regardless of blood relation or his wealth of experience in an incredibly niche field. Sooner than later those bastards will come, and when they do there's only so much protest and fighting spirit they'll indulge in. That's a fight he'll lose once it comes, but in the meantime those bastards and all their clever little monitoring devices can’t come within 300 feet of Fenton Works without causing an uproar.

He has to take advantage of the time they have left.

This evening the house is empty, just him and—

Well.

Maddie’s out there fighting the good fight, Jazz and Sam and Tucker at her side. The three of them have got more experience than Maddie and him ever realized. They’ll be just fine. They’ll handle whatever toothy specter is out there terrorizing the good people of Amity Park and make sure nothing gets in the way of his work. He needs the peace and quiet. No distractions. He needs to do this by the book.

Working by the book isn't a habit he’s ever had to cultivate, not with Maddie there to shore up his madcap inventions with reams of reproducible data and neatly labeled blueprints, all hard copies done in triplicate and the digital files regularly updated to a secure server off-site. You can’t ever be too cautious when you’re putting pseudoscience to the test and winning, Maddie always said with a grin, and he’d kissed her every time for being so much more brilliant and beautiful than he deserved. What would he do without her? How far could he have gotten without her? Would Danny still be—

He swallows.

Best to banish that train of thought before it can run him down. No distractions. No what-ifs, no maybes. Not if he wants to make up for what’s happened. What they’ve done. What he's done. This one’s all on him, no matter how Maddie tries to tell him otherwise. Either he fixes this or—

Well.

There is no ‘or,’ is there?

He presses the record button on the Jack Fenton-improved observation rig. Blinking red lights and a momentary whine of feedback means he’s good to go. “Nov—”

Too hoarse. Clarity and enunciation are key here. Slow and steady. He’s got to do this right, each and every time. He clears his throat and begins again.

“November 24th, 2006. 9:43 p.m. This is the ninth full examination of the ectobiological aberration self-identified as ‘Phantom,’ legal name Daniel Fenton. General details of the aberration's previously accepted physical characteristics can be found in the recording and transcript of the first examination. General details of the aberration's current physical characteristics can be found in the first, second, and third examinations. Detailed characteristics that have remained unchanged between forms—the wholly living, the selectively living, and the wholly deceased are also recorded in the first and second examinations."

“For the record, I still don't think I qualify as an 'aberration,'" the body says.

He breathes. Swallows. Chooses to ignore the interruption.

“This examination will consist of further study of Phantom's physical deterioration, to include the taking of samples of hair, skin, bone, and various fluids and tissues as necessary. Additionally I—"

He hadn't identified himself, despite the GIW's explicitly written protocols on ghost examinations. He curses inwardly, decides not to bother. He's the only examiner on any of the recordings, after all.

The body takes advantage of his pause to add, “Oddity maybe. Hell, anomaly sounds pretty cool. But aberration? That makes me sound like I'm on the verge of a villainous origin story or something."

He presses on through gritted teeth. "I'll be conducting several tests as outlined separately—exact location in the Phantom file will be added to this examination's transcript—to see if it's feasible to separate the Phantom aberration from Daniel Fenton's remains."

"How many times do I have to tell you that Phantom has always been—"

"Danny."

The body sighs. Well. Its inhabitant does anyway. "Sorry, sorry."

He resists the urge to thank the body. He resists the urge to pat its mottled green hand. He doesn't trust his voice to remain steady if he does either.

"External examination.” He describes the body from toe to tip, his voice measured, unhurried, detached. Dark green skin, healed as flawlessly as it had seven times before. Untamed black hair that shines a glossy green in the harsh overhead lights. Eyes red as holly berries that shine with the predatory gleam so common among true ghosts when the overhead light hits them. The skin is firm, and firmly attached to the lean muscles beneath, and those too still conform to the bones as if the body hasn’t been dead for months. The body is as limp-limbed as a ragdoll in his hands as he goes through the checklist. He confirms that it’s continuing to lose weight incrementally despite no outward signs of decay or starvation—

(Can a dead thing still starve? God, but what were those two years like for Danny? All those worries, those fears, all those questions without answers, and now….)

Nothing untoward or abnormal—in shape, if not in color—can be noted. A normal male distribution of body hair. Teeth in fair repair. Gums, tongue, and oral cavity all normal, albeit pale green. Symmetrical and normal in appearance are checked off wherever they need to be checked off. On, and on, and on. An exhaustive process that embarrassed the body’s inhabitant horribly the first few times. Now it’s borne in silence, with only an occasional gruff sigh.

No deformities. No injuries, except for the postmortem thread that’s bunched up at weird angles as the body stubbornly insisted on healing practically overnight. He makes a note of it as he takes a small pair of shears to the tangles, snipping and pulling as needed. The small holes trace out a capital letter Y that’s gone a bit hunchbacked and knock-kneed. Another day or two and that scar will be gone, replaced by a new one that will stretch stark and symmetrical, for a little while. The small holes left behind don’t bleed. There isn't any blood or ectoplasm pooled or pulsing through the body. The heart is still, a fist-sized lump of dark green muscle. He'd drained the clay-colored fluid that had operated as blood out into a jar marked DP Specimen #58 - 3.85ltr ecto found w/in complex circ sys(!) w/ unk contaminant(s?). It hasn't clotted, and the body hasn't produced more.

They don't know why. They still don’t know why the body continues to heal. There’s not enough energy in the remaining ectoplasm to generate such a speedy recovery, but neither does it heal enough. Danny’s ghost—the aberration—is still bound to this inanimate, impossible corpse. Danny is still trapped.

Not to mention that the healing seems to be failing incrementally as the days pass. He doesn’t know what it means. He doesn’t know if they’re running out of time or not. He doesn’t know what will happen to Danny if—

There’s no ‘if.’ He’s fixing this.

He has to.

“You’re staring,” the body says quietly.

He swallows, shaking himself out of it. “I—I will now begin the internal examination to compare the body’s current state to that of the eighth examination conducted on November 16th. Additionally, with the data gathered from the previous examinations and tests conducted upon various tissue samples and the body itself it’s believed that optimal results might be achieved with as little biological interference as possible.”

“You said full examination,” the body interrupts. “Brain included?”

“Brain included,” he confirms. He can’t quite keep the apology out of his voice. Not as if those bastards would notice an ounce of kindness if it—

Focus.

The body doesn’t breathe. It can’t. Those lungs gasped their last 36 seconds after Maddie landed a neat hit on Phantom with a full 450 milliliters of their experimental paralytic.

(He’d said it himself, not 24 hours before that day. Enough to lay out a ghost ten times his size! What a damn stupid, blind idiot he was.)

The inhabitant inside the body makes the sound of a slow, steadying breath. It shouldn’t shake. It shakes anyway. “Just. Don’t keep my face c-covered any longer than you have to.”

Danny’s made this request each time. As if he’d forget to give Danny what mean comforts he can through—through this. Danny had screamed all throughout that first examination. Not out of pain—he insisted he couldn’t feel anything anymore—but out of sheer, visceral horror. He doesn’t blame Danny one bit for that.

(He’d hoped removing the brain would do the trick, that it would free Danny’s ghost, put him out of his misery. But it just grew back. There are three of them resting in glass jars of glowing formalin now. At the rate he’s going the entire lab will soon be nothing but bits of Danny in jars.)

“Sure thing,” he whispers, and picks up the scalpel.

He narrates as he works, making small notes on the diagram at his elbow with a gloved hand that grows damp over time with green fluids. He makes the initial incision, running over it repeatedly where necessary, and inch by inch peels the anterior thoracic musculature and subcutaneous layers away.

(He’s almost gotten used to making these incisions, to applying the necessary force as pulls the layers apart. The motions have almost become habit. It’s all the sounds of peeling the body open that continue to haunt him.)

The flesh folds like a thick blanket, draping over the body’s elbows out of the way. There’s no need at this time to study the neck musculature or organs. He leaves that stretch of skin where it’s meant to stay. He focuses on cutting away the pale bits of fatty tissue that might interfere, fully exposing the deep black bones of the body’s rib cage.

(That had been a hard shock, the first time. He’s almost used to the sight now.)

As with the body’s hair and eyes, the bones have a faint green gleam to them. The same iridescence of a raven’s feathers. They yield to a rib cutter the same as any human’s would. He makes the cuts close to the sides rather than near the breastbone; he wants to get a good look at the heart and lungs in situ today.

The inhabitant begins to breathe rapidly.

He pauses, the front of the body’s rib cage gripped carefully in both hands, pulled halfway out. “Do… do you want me to move the mirror?”

Oh, but he had put his foot down about the mirror. There was no way, no way, he would force Danny to observe as his own father cut him open—did this to him. Danny had asked first that his eyes not to be taped shut, because laying there paralyzed and feeling nothing in the dark was so much worse and anyway his eyes don’t seem to be going anywhere, right? The third examination is when Danny had asked for a way to watch him work, and he’d protested and blubbered and even shouted, enough that Maddie had called down the stairs in a voice thick with tears if everything was—if everything was—did he need help?

Yes, he needed help. But he didn’t tell her that. He told her everything was—was—that she needn’t worry, that he had everything handled.

Danny had asked again. Again and again and again, and every time he said no, told Danny all the reasons why he wouldn’t, couldn’t, would never—

But Danny kept asking.

I want to understand, Dad. Please. I’m gonna go crazy if I all I do is just lay here until you and Mom fix me. I—this is all I can do. I want to see what you’re doing to me, instead of trying to imagine. Please. Please, Dad.

He’d relented for the seventh examination. He’d attached an arm to the observation rig above the table, attached a mirror to the arm, and messed with the angle of it until Danny said he could see himself perfectly.

It had been such a terrible thing to do to Danny, but Danny had thanked him all the same.

The body sighs, chuckles weakly. “N-no. No. I just—hate that sound. That—cracking. Gets—gets me every time.”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak. He tries to be as gentle as he can, separating the breastbone from the clavicle, but some sounds are unavoidable. After setting the rib cage aside he swallows, and swallows again. His voice betrays him anyway. “M-mediastinum intact again as well. Comparable in color to previous examinations. The residual fatty thymic tissue present….”

And on. And on. Cutting and pulling and weighing, comparing weights and textures and colors to the eight other times he’s already done this.

How many more times will this be necessary?

Danny breathes, sometimes, hitching like he means to say something, or like he's trying not to cry.

Danny doesn’t do either, but he hates himself anyway.

“Decellularization continues apace,” he murmurs near the microphone, tracing a careful finger across one lung in the scale. It and its twin had been a vivid lime green in the beginning, but like nearly every other organ it’s begun to shed its inhabiting cells, leaving a colorless scaffolding in the same rough shape of itself behind.

Ghost organs. He’s never heard of such a thing happening outside of a microbiology lab. It’d almost be funny.

He doesn’t know what it means.

He doesn’t know what any of this means.

The accident should have killed Danny completely, left a well-cooked corpse and an entirely separate ghost behind. Not hybridized him. Not at the risk of this. Their paralytic is what killed him—

(his son, his boy, little Dann-o, gone gone gone and it’s all his fault)

—but if he’d died another way would this have been the same result? This powerlessness, this fading? There’s no knowing, and that most of all is what keeps him up at night.

He finishes comparing all the numbers to those previously recorded. Then samples are taken and the cell debris drained, all the vials and containers marked appropriately. Lastly he bags the organs he intends to keep for study to minimize leakage, leaving the rest in their individual trays. If he were to place them all back in the body the bags would—somehow—vanish within a few days, all the organs reorganized and reattached exactly as they should be. If he doesn’t, new ones will take their place.

Maddie suspects this to be the cause of the decellularization. The body is drawing on its own limited materials to regenerate because the ectoplasmic core once sustaining it has been snuffed out. None of their instruments can even pick up that Danny’s still in there, but there he is all the same. No one knows what to make of that.

All in all, it’s been over an hour by the time he carefully suctions out the last of the fluids pooled within the emptied cavities, filling and marking one more container to join the collection on the stainless steel counter. He’d lined the interior of the body with cotton, the first time. It had gone the same way as the bags, vanished or vaporized or who even knows. He doesn’t bother this time, returning the unbagged organs to rough approximations of where they should be. He gives the small intestine up as a bad job, grimacing apologetically. In the space where the right lung sat he places an oblong monitoring device small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Something clever Maddie cooked up to measure all sorts of things, all potential avenues to make sense of the body’s physiology and shake the ghost clean of it. It shouldn’t be too intrusive once the lung grows back. Not that it matters.

It’s far too late to save their son. They know that. That doesn’t make this any easier.

“Brain next?” The body asks once he’s finished up the new Y incision.

“Brain next,” he confirms wearily, setting aside needle and thread. “Your moth—”

He bites his cheek hard enough to taste blood, but that’s not enough to take back the slip. No familiarity. No acknowledgement of their relationship. No divulging more details than strictly necessary. That had been part of the agreement.

He wiggles the rubber block out from under the body’s back, moves it to support the head, cards his fingers—a fresh pair of gloves on—through its thick dark hair. Danny can’t feel it but hums a wordless thanks anyway, watching in the mirror. There’s the faintest shiver of motion at his eyes; not the eyeballs themselves but of a fey light within. It’s the only sign anyone’s still in there.

He makes the incision across the crown, sloping from behind one ear to the other. The scrape of the scalpel against bare bone makes Danny suck in a breath. He peels, he cuts, he peels. He whispers an apology as the anterior flap covers the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the chin. The inhabit’s imagined breaths come faster than ever, but it’s only the dark that upsets him. It is. The dark, the numbness, the helplessness. A hell that can’t be imagined, only experienced.

He moves quicker now, his narration stuttering in favor of action. The posterior flap peeled and cut and folded out of the way, then both of the temporal muscles severed. The scalpel traded for a blade like a bread knife to etch out a rough guideline around the crown of the exposed skull. Then the hammer and chisel.

Danny whimpers all throughout.

As soon as the brain—the same gray-green color of mold—has been removed, he gently pulls the anterior flap back, lets it dangle over empty space as he wipes the body’s face clean of a few green drips. “Keeping this one for testing, I’m afraid,” he says.

“Okay,” the body whispers.

“Nearly finished now.”

“I know. I’m okay.”

He doesn’t acknowledge that. He can’t afford to. The brain—what a brilliant kid, a professional ghost hunter, reaching for the stars since he first realized they were up there, the sum of his son cradled in his hands and this isn’t ever going to get any easier, it’s not, it’s not, it’s not—

He takes a deep breath. Steadies himself. Sets the brain carefully aside to be dealt with shortly. Soft as Jell-O, brains are, but unfathomably powerful. Science has only scratched the surface of what goes on in that three-pound mass. Danny might still be—somehow—tied to the body, but maybe the answer lies in the brain.

Nearly finished. He can do this.

The skullcap is held awkwardly in place as he sews the scalp closed. It’ll be good as new in no time, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still take care to make the stitches tidy. He uses the back of his hand, the cleanest part of his glove, to smooth the dark hair over the seam.

“This concludes the ninth examination of Daniel Fenton, AKA Phantom,” he croaks into the microphone, and at last, at last, he can kill the recording. As soon as he has he reaches up to nudge the mirror askew so Danny doesn’t have to stare at himself a second longer.

“Done,” he says, his voice gone hoarse again.

“Yeah,” the body says.

He stands there a long, long minute, braced on the examination table staring down at the twisted corpse of his son, both splashed with any number of ghostly-bodily fluids. Arms shaking, his knees rubbery, breathing through a throat of sand. He’s tired. He’s tired. He doesn’t know how much longer he can do this.

As long as he has to. As long as it takes to help Danny. That’s how much longer he has to. No ifs, ands, or buts.

“Are you okay?” Danny asks.

He laughs. It comes out wetter than he meant it to, but it’s fine. All of the recording equipment is off. The only person who’ll see him cry now is Danny. “Sh—shouldn’t I be asking that?”

“Maybe,” Danny says, “But it’s not easy on anybody. Is it?”

“...No. No, it’s not.”

He’s made such a mess of this corner of the lab. Maddie’d be furious with him if she saw. Not that she will. He’s cordoned it off with tall curtains and begged her on bended knee to leave this whole ugly mess to him. She hasn’t looked yet. He’d know if she had. He's seen the way her eyes linger on the curtains while they're working in another part of the lab, how her hands fumble, how her mouth thins. She's not slept more than four hours at a time since—

Since.

"Quit staring," the body orders. "Mom'll blow a gasket if you leave the lab like this. So c’mon now. Hop to it."

He laughs again, sniffling thickly as he pats the mottled green hand nearest him. Danny can't feel or see him do it, but it feels right to do it all the same. "You're a good boy, keeping your old man on task."

Danny hums. "Somebody's got to."

Well. That’s true enough, isn’t it? He’s always needed a firm hand to keep him focused. It’s been Maddie since the day they met in college, his rock in all things. All things but this. He won’t let her carry this burden. Not the messiest parts he can protect her from anyway.

So. Another checklist.

Juggling trays full of specimens off the second examination table to the counter so he can wipe the table clean. Then cleaning the body. Then moving the body to the second table so he can clean and sterilize the first.

(Like a twisted game of musical chairs, Danny had joked once. Neither of them had laughed.)

But before that comes organizing and storing all the specimens for Maddie to study tomorrow with that eagle eye and incredible patience of hers. She’s doing the real work, laying out all the pieces of Danny to see what makes him tick, working on a way to free him even as she tries to understand him. They’ve dedicated another corner of the lab to this; nearly an entire wall, really. All their other work has gone by the wayside, shelved apart from the necessity of dealing with any ghosts that slip out to wreck a little havoc.

Funny, how few times that’s happened—since. They’d worried, once Jazz and Sam and Tucker had told them the whole terrible truth, that the ghosts might celebrate Phantom’s condition. Take advantage of his helplessness to get revenge or at least run amok in Amity Park. They know news got out; the ghost Phantom had been after the day Maddie got her lucky shot in had gotten away.

But there’s been nothing. Almost nothing, apart from a few non-sapient threats. Mean and cunning things, but nothing half so dangerous as they’d feared would come. Danny doesn’t seem surprised, or worried for that matter. If he knows something though, he’s staying quiet.

Once he’s passed back through the curtains the body says, “Jazz visited me again last night.”

The curse slips out him before he can help it, anger and worry and shame and grief a hot migrainous mess hammering away at his skull, matching the pace he’d chiseled at Danny’s. “She knows better—!”

“Yeah, and I told her to get out too.” Danny chuckles. “She never listens though.”

“I….” He sighs and shakes his head, exasperated. “...Yeah. She gets that from your mother. How is she?”

“Figured that’d be obvious.”

“She won’t talk to either of us,” he replies, and goes to clean and disinfect the table and floor. Easiest to get that done with before he spends 20 minutes hunched over the sink and autoclave. His back’s already clamoring for a hot shower and a handful of ibuprofen after—

Well.

“She’s not as angry as she was,” Danny says in a pause between clangs. “She hardly cried at all this time.”

“Good. That’s—good.”

“Hey, Dad? Do me a favor?”

He’s at Danny’s side at once, taking one hand in his and leaning enough to be in more than Danny’s frozen peripheral. “What is it?”

“She’s gonna try to sneak Sam and Tucker down here this week—”

“What?”

“—so can you make sure the security system will let them in?”

His knee-jerk reaction is to put his foot down, to remind Danny and then Jazz of how tenuous a position they’re in with the GIW, of how they can’t afford the littlest slip or look for loopholes or do anything to risk Danny—

But.

Danny’s been down here so long now. Alone apart from him, from Maddie’s voice on the other side of the curtains, Jazz’s midnight visits. Just his family and the ceiling and hours of silence and a hundred experiments and failures and—

And that’s no way to live. That’s no way to live at all.

“Is that what you want?” He asks.

“I… I really don’t want them to see me like this,” There’s nothing but revulsion in Danny’s voice, self-loathing and guilt and horror. “But they’ll do it no matter what I tell Jazz, and I don’t want them to get caught either.”

“Okay. Okay then. I think I can finagle three days before anyone might notice. Make sure she knows.”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

He goes back to cleaning, finishes the area and moves to the instruments and trays. Ectoplasm is notoriously difficult to scrub out. It takes time. The smell of bleach burns his eyes and nose, eventually overpowering the citrus sting of ectoplasm. Once the autoclave is set to run he tosses the latex gloves into the hazardous waste bin and takes a moment to let his hands breathe. Never did like the feel of latex, but his usual pair don’t allow him the finesse he needs for—well, this kind of work. His fingertips have gone pale and wrinkled. His fingers ache. His wrists are on fire, to say nothing of his shoulders and back.

How many more times is he going to do this?

“How do you feel?” He asks.

“I’m fine,” Danny says. Too quickly.

“Be honest, kiddo. Please.”

“I… Cold. Heavy. Like I got stuck phasing through the ground, and any second I’m gonna slip up and go solid and it’ll—” Danny makes a small, miserable noise and falls silent.

He rubs his aching eyes, gritting his teeth against every stupid, useless thing he wants to say. He’d asked, hadn’t he?

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s been months.”

“I know.”

Danny’s voice breaks. “I have to get out of here.”

“I know,” he repeats. It’s the only thing to say. He’s exhausted all apologies. “We’re trying, son. We’re working on this day and night. We’ll get you sorted, you know we will.”

“...Yeah. I know.”

He forces his aching legs to the cabinet to pull out a fresh sheet to drape over the body, then Danny’s comforter over that, pulling them both up to the body’s chin to hide the edges of the incision. “Eyes open or shut tonight?”

“Um. What time is it?”

He glances at the wall as he carefully swaps the rubber block under the body’s neck for a plastic-wrapped pillow. “Just after midnight.”

“When will Mom be down?”

“Six sharp, same as always.”

“Right. Um. Shut’s fine.”

He gently tugs the medical tape off the body’s face, smoothes the eyebrows flat and brushes the bangs aside. The green skin feels even colder on his bare fingers.

This is the part where he bids his dead son good night and retreats upstairs. This is the part where he passes by Jazz and Maddie with his eyes firmly on his feet. This is the part where he near boils himself in the shower until he feels almost clean again, scrubbing his skin raw to wash the smell of ectoplasm away. This is the part where there’s only nightmares followed by silent hours spent staring at the ceiling of their bedroom, trying to imagine how helpless and terrified Danny is down here.

He stays where he is, hands braced on the table again. He asks the question that's festered in his gut ever since Jazz threw herself over Phantom's prone shape and spat the truth out through a stream of furious tears. "...Why didn't you tell us?"

Danny is quiet for a long, long time. Then, "I was always gonna end up on this table."

He shudders, pulling away. "We— you don’t really think that. Do you? We love you, Danny. We wouldn't. If we'd known, we wouldn't have."

Another long silence. Then, "Good night, Dad."

“I….” He shuts his eyes, weary in a way he’ll never find the words to express. “Good night, Danny-boy.”

He shuts the lights off on his way up the stairs.

Notes: Decellularization is cool as hell. Check out the >Wiki page< for it, and if you don’t some close-up pictures of a pig heart >here< is a fascinating DIY to create your very own ghost organ as a Halloween decoration! (Scientists are amazing.) For the rest of the research I did for this, I’ll just say that boy! You sure can find some extremely specific How-Tos on the Internent, huh? I sure learned a lot this week!

Anyway, thanks for reading! You’re great. <3

#danny phantom #phango19 #my writing #body horror #gore #dissection #i went all out y'all and i am not sorry #the research rabbit hole was intense on this one #my search history is WILD

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ayamari-no-goshi · 3 years

Text

Verboten 16 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary: AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 16

As Danny waited outside with the rest of the guests, his parents and Vlad met up with him. After they handed him a bag filled with one of his favorite Nasty Burger meals, he gave them a quick rundown of what he knew, save for the appearance of the ghost. While frustrated, his parents shuffled him into the RV so he could eat and warm up a bit. It was a chilly fall day after all.

As he ate, Danny vaguely wondered how his parents managed to convince Vlad, the man with the limo, to go across town with them. His dad’s driving prowess… well, lack thereof… was famous in the area. The townsfolk and even the police steered clear of any known Fenton vehicle. In actuality, he had no idea how his dad hadn’t lost his license.

After a couple hours, the fire department cleared the building with the exception that rooms on the second floor could not be used until the police preformed an investigation to verify whether or not arson occurred. The rooms on that floor would also need cleaned. Thankfully, little damage ended up being done from the fire: a few pieces of furniture and some scorch marks. The majority of the damage ended up being from the hotel’s sprinkler system.

After collecting their items, his parents drove to a large house on the outskirts of the housing plan where Sam lived. After asking what they were doing there, Vlad matter-of-factly stated he just finalized the payment on it. Danny’s utter confusion had to be evident as his parents explained Vlad recently decided to purchase a house in Amity Park since he would be around more to help with the research.

Well, it explained why it took his parents so long to get food. While the act itself didn’t seem that strange for Vlad, he did own a castle in Wisconsin after all, something about the timing bothered him. With the rare exception of a day when there was a major experiment malfunction, Vlad tended to stay with the family upon his visits. Exactly how long would he be in town if he needed to buy a new house?

After getting a quick tour of the house, Danny retired to his temporary room and called his friends. The three way call ended up being hectic as he explained what happened. “Guys, I’m telling you, I saw a ghost, and then somehow the hotel caught fire.”

“Calm down, Danny,” Sam instructed. “I know you’re telling the truth, but geez, how in the world did you end up being the center of so much trouble in two days?”

“My mom said something about me possibly attracting paranormal things now.”

“Makes sense, in a weird sort of way,” Tucker agreed as typing could be heard on his end. “I’ll see if I can dig up any stories of ghosts like what you saw this time.”

“Don’t worry about it, Tucker. You’re already looking into those files.”

“Nah, this’ll be easy. It’ll only take a couple minutes at most to set up a search and have it run in the background while we talk. Any specific things that stood out?”

“Other than the blue flaming hair?” He sighed and collapsed on his bed. “If she hadn’t been a ghost, she would have looked right at home in one of those bands Sam likes. She said she wanted to make people remember she still exists.”

“So she looked like a goth?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, but with some, uh… I think you’d say she’s more punk.”

“Woah! That’s weird,” Tucker stated after something on one of his tech devices beeped in the background. “So, apparently there have been a series of spontaneous fires that seem to occur about every ten years, but they started after the death of a local girl. Some people think it’s her ghost that causes them. I’ll send you the articles.”

It took only seconds for the article links to be sent. Danny nearly dropped the phone when the picture of the mentioned girl appeared on the screen. With the exception of the hair, the girl’s face matched that of the ghost. “That… that’s her! Wow, she really doesn’t look that much different as a ghost.”

“Wait, you’re serious?” Sam hummed as she reviewed the information. “Says here while she was unpopular at school, she was in a local band. She was found dead after her house burned down mysteriously. The police thought it might of been an arson, but officials were never able to verify anything. After her death and around its anniversary, there were reports of fires in the city. Sometimes, entire buildings are engulfed, but other times the words ‘you will remember’ appear burned into buildings.”

“I kinda remember hearing my dad mention something about ghost fires growing up, but with it being my dad, I never put any stock into it.”

“My mom said something about it once.”

“I have no idea why I keep forgetting your mom works for 911,” Sam interrupted. “You know, we might be able to use that to our advantage.”

“I mean, you can try, but she refuses to talk about anything other than the occasional funny call. The one about the ‘bambulance’ still brings me to tears.”

“Tuck, you’re getting distracted.”

“Right. Anyways,” some typing could be heard on Tucker’s end, “my mom thought the fires were from the girl’s bandmates. They had just recorded a song called ‘Remember’ which got some local play before she died. Since I know asking Mom for anything else is pointless, I think I’m gonna see if I can get into the files of those fires. The news articles all have explanations, but some of them seem a bit over the top.”

“How long will that take?”

Danny snorted. “Sam, it’s Tucker. Knowing him, he’s already looking at them.”

“I’m hurt, Sam. Do you really have that little faith in me?”

“I know you’ll be able to get them eventually. You’re track record hasn’t been all that great recently. You’ll still working on those files you got from Plasmius, after all.”

“Oh, I’ve finished the review on those. Some of it isn’t pretty, but I wanted to verify information directly from Vlad Master’s companies. That’s been slow going ‘cause he has some impressive firewalls, and I’m really trying not to get caught. As for this,” Tucker briefly shouted in triumph, “I’ve already gotten what I need. Hmm… that’s weird. The official investigations regarding the ‘Ember fires’, as they’re called, all state there was no known cause of the fire. There wasn’t even evidence of an accelerant… which is…?”

“It’s something used to make a fire go from a few flames to a roaring fire. Think of what happens when you add gasoline to a fire,” Sam explained as tapping could be heard on her end. Was she at the computer too? “Most arsonists use one. If they don’t, unless the flames start where there’s something like tissue paper, sawdust, or something else really flammable, the fire usually takes a lot of time to grow and become a problem. Tuck, is there anything about flammable materials?”

“Hmm… no, not really.”

Danny sighed as he got off the bed and paced his temporary room. “Great, now there’s a fire starting ghost on the prowl, on top of Plasmius, that thing… and possibly whatever is wrong with that girl. Tuck, do you have any updates on anything?”

“On the Plasmius front, no. Like I said, I’m trying to cross-reference those files against the files from VladCo and DALV, but that’s taking a while due to his security. For the creepy thing that attacked you, I have a notification set up for any potentially related attacks. I think that’s all I can do for now on that… As for Maura, I got distracted a bit when Plasmius had that chat with you, but I can tell you she stopped posting on social media right after her disappearing act. That’s pretty weird for girls in her clique. Give me a couple days to get her medical chart.” Something beeped in the background. “Oh, it looks like I might have a pattern for our fire bug ghost.”

“At least that’s something. Can you send them to me?”

Sam snorted. “What, you’re gonna try to figure out where she’ll be and talk to her?”

“I mean, it’s worth a shot. Maybe she knows something about Plasmius or that thing? And… maybe I can nicely ask her to stop lighting fires?”

“I think you’re just gonna end up with your ass kicked, but go ahead.”

“Thanks for that wonderful vote of confidence,” Danny deadpanned. The ghost was nice enough to give him a warning so she couldn’t be all bad. “I think if I open up with a ‘thank you’, she won’t outright attack me.”

“It’s your funeral.”

“Actually, Danny, can you die?” Tucker hesitantly asked. “I mean… your situation is kinda weird.”

He thought about it for a few moments. “I think so. Clockwork told me I’m alive, so that’s good enough for me. But, to be honest, I don’t really wanna think about it too much.”

“That’s fair.”

…

Danny’s conversation only lasted a few more minutes after Tucker asked the awkward question as his parents called for him over an intercom system. Uncertain if the correct response to the intercom should be to cringe or be impressed, he pushed it from his mind as he meandered down the hallways to attempt to find his parents.

Something about the décor of the mansion seemed familiar, but Danny found it difficult to place it. Vlad loved the Green Bay Packers, and he commonly used their colors of green and gold for accents. He stopped in his tracks as he glanced around. Plasmius also had green and gold splashes in his home. It had to be a coincidence.

Not wanting to think about it more, he raced down the halls and eventually came to the main foyer. His dad shot him a questioning glance as his mother stood and moved towards him.

“Hi, sweetie! How are you adjusting? It’s been a hectic couple days.”

“I’m okay. I’m just a bit tired,” he told her as he dodged a hug. “I let Sam and Tucker know we’re fine. I’m not dealing with Jazz until after you guys talk to her.”

“I trust the room is to your liking?”

Danny jumped as Vlad’s voice came from behind him. How did he miss him? “Yes. Thanks for letting us stay.”

Vlad waved his hand dismissively. “It’s no trouble at all. My house is yours.”

“Vlad, you mentioned you had a workshop we can use?” His mother asked as she abandoned her attempts at hugging her son.

After staring at her for a second, Vlad shook his head and regained composure. “Surely that can wait until tomorrow, my dear. You’ve been through quite a lot in the past twenty-four hours.”

“No can do, Vladdy!” Jack boomed as he excitedly stood. “You heard those policemen. They want a Fenton product, and I can’t sit still when that spook is still a threat to my family. Say, do you want to help?”

The billionaire grimaced before forcing a smile. “I must politely decline, but I will gladly look over any blue prints in the morning.”

“Don’t worry,” Maddie told him while giving her husband a fond grin, “I know how… enthusiastic Jack can be when he has a new project. I’ll also make sure he sleeps tonight. We don’t want any accidents.”

“That would be greatly appreciated.”

Danny glanced between Vlad and his parents. There was some sort of story he was missing. “Should I ask?” he hesitantly questioned.

“I was badly injured when we were in collage when an experiment went wrong,” Vlad explained as his expression hardened. “As a result, I’ve made it a rule to not be in a room when someone is actively making experimental items or preforming experiments. However, I’ll gladly double check procedures, blue prints, set ups, and results.”

“I… yeah… That… that makes sense. But you’re okay now?”

“Absolutely, my dear boy. You could say I gained a different outlook on life as a result.” Vlad gave a predatory grin which sent shivers down Danny’s spine. “Why, if I hadn’t gotten into that accident, I probably wouldn’t have ended up so successful.”

“Right…” His mother must have caught something off in Vlad’s tone as she furrowed her brow in confusion. “It’s gotten pretty late. Danny, will you be alright?”

“Huh? Probably. I mean, I could use a snack.”

“The kitchen and pantry are just down that hall.” Vlad pointed towards the hallway opposite of the way Danny originally came. “Will you be alright to be back to your room once you’re done? If you wait, I can escort you back once I’m done showing your parents where the lab is.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be alright. ‘Night everyone.” Chuckling as his father couldn’t contain his excitement anymore and bounded down the hall followed by his amused mother and wary Vlad, he just made his way to the kitchen. It thankfully was easy to find, and after making a sandwich, he meandered his way back towards his room.

….

Around midnight, Danny decided he would attempt to sneak out of the mansion. Luckily for him, Vlad put him in a room on the ground floor, saying something about how the upper floors weren’t ready yet. Luckier still, there were no bars on the windows. Sam’s parents tried doing something like before due to how many times she snuck out, but it was struck down by her Grandma Ida, who still had control of the deed at that time.

Escape ended up being a piece of cake. There didn’t seem to be any type of security system or guard which seemed strange, but that would probably change once the mansion was officially finished.

He had an idea of where the ghost might end up appearing thanks to the articles Tucker forwarded to him earlier so he booked it in the direction of an older housing plan near the city’s boarder with Elmerton. The majority of buildings in the area were row houses in disrepair. While there were still a few low income families in the area, most of the houses were considered condemned. Danny remembered hearing talk of tearing the houses down at one point, but either the project was shelved or abandoned.

As he approached, he decided to shift to his ghostly form. While it seemed unlikely he would encounter anyone, the area did have a reputation for crime. While he didn’t know what sort of protection being a ghost would give him, it seemed a better option. And, if that thing tried attacking him again, maybe he could float to safety. He really hoped that thing didn’t appear; his trust in his abilities honestly was non-existent.

The soft glow of his ghost form provided the majority of the light as he silently found his way to the road where the girl used to live. The few street lamps were either broken or burnt out, and some even seemed melted.

His destination, Garnier Avenue, seemed worse than the surrounding streets. At first he thought the houses were just gutted, but a second look said otherwise. Most of them had some evidence of fire: melted windows, ash marks, and collapsed roofs and walls. Ash and dust could be found on the road as well as the sidewalk, and in some places, they almost looked like outlines of people.

The area seemed dead. No noise. No sound. No movement. As he continued to move forward, his hair stood on end and his breath misted in front of him. It was almost as if he walked into some sort of wall of static electricity.

“So this is what you actually look like. You’re not that bad looking after all,” a curious voice called to him, making him jump. Danny spun around to see the ghost from earlier materialize in front of him. Her appearance hadn’t changed, but she seemed more solid. Even her voice seemed closer and more natural. “Do you know how many of us would kill to be able to blend in that well?”

“Uh… I really wouldn’t know. This is really new to me,” Danny relied as he held up his hands in what he hoped was a submissive manner.

Her eyes narrowed. “So why are you here, baby pop? Do I interest you?”

He gulped at the undertones of her applications. “A little? I mean, you were nice enough to let me there would be a fire, and I wanted to thank you for that. And maybe ask a couple questions?”

“You just happened to be there at the right time,” she responded offhandedly though her satisfied smirk suggested his thanks was welcome. “It would be a waste to see someone like you get destroyed by accident. But, I would like to know how you found me.”

“I mentioned you to a friend of mine, and he was able to find out about your legend.” Danny hoped he sounded genuinely curious and not creepy. Wait, was it possible for him to not be creepy? He was a ghost after all.

She nodded. “I like to come back around the anniversary of my death. It helps strengthen me.”

“You do seem… I think stronger is the word I want.”

“Glad you noticed, and that makes you more observant than most of the guys I’ve met over the years. Call me, Ember.” Grinning again, she walked around him almost as if she was examining him.

“I’m Danny.”

She snorted. “Bet that’s your real name. Don’t met too many ghosts who remember theirs. You really must be new. Anyways, you had questions?”

“Yeah. I was hoping you might know something about this thing that’s been seen around the town. It attacked me, and it’s caused enough trouble to get the police interested.” When she didn’t immediately respond, Danny took that as a sign he could continue. So, he quickly explained his interaction with whatever the thing was. When he finished, Ember expression turned stony.

“You’re telling me something like that has been seen in my town?” she demanded. Her hair, which had been gently waving in an invisible wind, suddenly blazed in a blue flame. “Are you telling me one of those things have been seen here?”

Danny gulped and nodded. “Like I said, it attacked me! What are they? Plasmius doesn’t know what they are either.”

“Plasmius? Plasmius is here too?” The temperature around them spiked as she shrieked. “Are you working for him? You better answer me, Dipstick.”

===

Notes: ghostly fire is usually considered insubstantial and doesn't tend to cause damage. Actual paranormal fire damage is usually associated with poltergeists, and more modern theories classify poltergeists as creations of psychokinesis (PK) agents (normally living people) instead of spirits.

Ember's background is directly taken from information provided by one of the show's directors.

"Bambalance" is a reference to an old but hilarious 911 call. You can find it on YouTube under the title "the guy, the deer, the dog, and the bambulance." There is some foul language in it.

Also, there is a very subtle 'Phantom of the Opera' reference in this chapter.

6 notes · View notes

five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Cloak/Plague

Zombies!

The night was dark beyond the fire, pitch and clinging, as if someone had dipped the world in black paint. Jacob stood at the edge of the light, on watch, one hand resting on his gun, the thumb of the other hooked around its shoulder strap. Behind him, either Sharktooth or Jade—He wasn’t sure which woman was which—tossed another log on the fire.

He was nervous. This was the largest group he’d been in for a while. Over fifty people. Little groups squished together by circumstance and the fact that scavenging only got harder as time went on. There was talk of finding a town somewhere, one that hadn’t been damaged too badly, and making a settlement. Something permanent. Something secure.

Jacob’s stomach turned over. He’d tried that before. The Coliseum. It hadn’t worked out well, even if that was where he had met Mack.

Some of them were talking about trying for Sacramento or Rock City or the Valley. There was civilization there, just a touch of it, according to radio waves one of the techies picked up on good days.

Jacob had tried that, too. Sacramento, at least. That hadn’t turned out well, either.

Of all the things to fear during a zombie apocalypse, other humans were definitely at the top of Jacob’s list. Heck, he was only here in the first place because of Mack and how much they needed information.

“So,” said one of the women, Jacob thought it was Sharktooth, languidly. “Who’s bored?”

Bored was probably the wrong word to describe anyone living through this mess. At the same time…

Well, Sharktooth got quite a response.

“We’re from all over, right? So, we’ve probably all got stories. Tales. Places we’ve seen or hear of. Might as well share while we’re here, right? Who knows when we’ll be around this many people again?”

“You’re not staying?” asked Jade, clearly taken aback.

“Haven’t decided yet,” said Sharktooth, shooting a glance at leader of the largest of the gathering’s constituent groups. “Maybe if there was a plan…” She shrugged. “But, hey. All of us are here, now, right? We might as well make the best of it.”

“Why don’t you start, then?” asked Mack, a little belligerently. So, yeah, that was definitely Sharktooth. She and Mack had been having a thing since Jacob and Mack joined the group. Not a romantic thing, Sharktooth had to be a decade older than Mack, but still a thing.

“Sure,” said Sharktooth. “Why not?” Jacob watched her crouch down next to the fire out of the corner of his eye. “Ever hear of the phantom city?”

There was muttering. “Everywhere’s a ghost town, now,” said someone, a little louder than the rest. “You don’t need to rub it in.”

“And we don’t need more nightmares,” added another.

“Nah, this isn’t a ghost story. Just a weird story. Well, the town was supposed to be haunted before, but I’m pretty sure that was just a tourist thing. Anyway, they’re a broadcaster. You know, radio spam. All that ‘Hey, here we are’ stuff. Like Sacremento.”

“Yeah?” prompted someone. “What’s the city called?”

“Amity Park. And if you’re in Illinois, you can probably catch their broadcast. But good luck finding it. There’s a reason it’s called the phantom city. When I was going up through Ohio, I met people who’d tried to find it. Never could.”

“Why were they in Ohio if they were looking for a city in Illinois?” asked Mack. “Seems kind of dumb.”

“Well, they’d given up,” said Sharktooth. “Couldn’t justify searching anymore. They were mad about it, too. They had maps, they had coordinates, radios to pick up the broadcast, everything. Heck, they said they had road signs. Exits off the highway marked with the name. But as soon as they got close…” She waved her hands dramatically. “Nothing. Even the broadcast went silent.”

“Hey, hold up, I think I’ve heard of that!” interjected a member of Sharktooth’s audience. “There was just a hole in the ground or something.”

“Yep. But when they got farther away, the broadcast started up again.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t a ghost story.”

Sharktooth shrugged. “Might not be ghosts,” she said. “Might be people trying to lure people in. A trap, or something. Or maybe they had some kind of automated broadcast set up, and it kept going after the town got wrecked. I don’t know.”

Jacob looked over his shoulder just in time to see a corner of Jade’s lip twitch up. “If you want to talk about ghost stories, why not the Phantom?”

Jacob groaned. He wasn’t the only one.

“Oh, come on!” said Mack, protesting. “Don’t be like that, he’s real!”

“Have you ever met anyone who actually said they met him?” asked Sharktooth, practically. “It’s all friend of a friend stuff.”

“So’s Amity Park,” muttered Jade.

“I’ve met him!” protested Mack.

“Wait, what, really?” asked Jade, sounding like she’d just been slapped.

“Yeah! It was before I met Jacob. I was traveling with…” He trailed off. “Some… People. We got jumped by a pack, and I thought I was going to die, but Phantom showed up and he fought them off with just a machete! It was super cool. And, like, I got bitten, but he injected me with that green stuff, just like in the stories, and I was fine! Well, not completely fine. I was kind of sick, after, but I didn’t turn, obviously. And then he brought me to Mastersoft Coliseum, because it was, you know, before it got wrecked. That’s where I met Jacob!”

“What did he look like?” asked one of the younger members of the group.

“Well, I never really got a good look at him, to be honest? He was sort of wearing, uh, layers. Not quite one of those, um, hazmat suit type deals, I don’t think, but he had a mask. And his eyes were super green! It was wild.” He shrugged. “Also, I was kind of out of it… Like I said, I was pretty sick. Barely remember what he said to me…”

“Cool story, bro.”

“Yeah, maybe if you told it better, we’d believe it!”

“Hey! I’ve got the scars to prove it!”

“Whoa, hey,” said Sharktooth, mercifully stopping Mack from stripping. “You don’t have to—"

“Hello the camp!”

Jacob cursed and brought up his gun, his action mirrored by the others on watch. That voice was far too close for comfort. Even in the dark, someone should have noticed something.

Why was this guy wandering around in the dark?

“I come in peace! I bring medical supplies and zucchini!”

“Show yourself!” barked Jacob.

“I’m just—Ah. I’m just right here.”

Finally, movement. Jacob thumbed on his flashlight (and tried very hard not to think about how soon he’d have to replace the batteries).

“Ow. Bright,” complained the teenager in front of him. Jacob stared. The kid was even younger than Mack.

Was Mack even a teenager anymore…? It had been years. They’d missed some birthdays.

Point being, there was no way this kid was out here on his own.

“Where are the rest of you?” demanded Jacob.

“Uh,” said the kid. “Nowhere? I’m out here on my own.” He waved his hands back and forth expressively but was careful to keep them in Jacob’s line of sight. His poncho flapped back and forth in the night breeze, concealing his figure.

The kid could be wearing anything under there. Guns, bombs, swords... anything.

“Poncho,” snapped Jacob. “Take it off.” He was aware that the whole camp was tense and awake behind him, searching for other enemies, bracing themselves to run at a moment’s notice.

“Okay,” said the kid. “I really am alone, you know. Sorry to startle you all.” He pulled the poncho off, revealing that, despite it being the least likely thing on Jacob’s very short list of possibilities, the kid was wearing a sword. No, he was wearing two of them.

“What are the swords for?”

“Uh,” said the kid, giving him a look like he was an idiot. “Killing zombies? I mean, what’s the gun for? Who walks around without a weapon, these days, right?”

Closer to the fire, the group’s illustrious de facto leader was giving orders to search for whoever the kid was with.

The kid rolled his eyes. “Do whatever you want to make yourselves feel better, but I am alone. I’m not bait, or whatever you’re thinking.”

“You’re, like, fourteen,” said Sharktooth. “You would have been, what, eleven when the plague hit? No way you’re on your own.”

“Excuse you, but I’m eighteen, thanks. I blame my permanent baby face on my parents. Speaking of, you don’t happen to have a Jack or Maddie Fenton anywhere in there, do you?”

“There’s no one out here!” shouted one of the searchers, voice echoing slightly.

The kid shrugged. “I told you. I mean, I get why you’re cautious and all, I’ve been jumped a couple times, but still.”

The group watched him uneasily.

“You’re looking for your parents?” asked Sharktooth, finally.

“Yep. For a while, now. They were away from home when, you know, everything went down.”

Alright. Now this was just getting awkward. And a little pathetic.

“Do you know where they were, at least?” asked Mack. Of course, Mack would sympathize. He had his own parental issues.

There was something odd about his tone, however. Something off.

“Yeah. Nevada. Specifically, Phoenix. But it’s been years, so they could be anywhere. Hence the searching. I’ve actually been to Nevada. It kind of sucks down there, to be honest, because, well, it’s a desert, but that also means there aren’t as many zombies, because apparently they get dehydrated, too, after a while. So. That’s interesting.”

“You’ve been to Nevada?” asked their wise leader.

“Yeah. A bunch of other places, too, like I said, I’ve been searching. I can do a story swap if you’d like. Also, I have zucchinis. Yesterday, I stayed at this one house and there were just. So many zucchinis. Like, the entire yard was overrun with zucchinis. Zucchinis are edible, and you can’t turn your nose up at fresh produce in this economy, but I have no idea how to prepare zucchinis, and they’re honestly a little, uh, bland? Let’s call it bland. To just eat raw. So, I’m willing to trade for, you know, not being shot.”

“You said you had medical supplies?” asked Jade.

“Yeah, a bit! Not, like, a huge amount, but it seemed like the thing to say. Is anyone hurt?”

Their heroic leader took a moment to consider this. “Not right now. But, alright. We can swap stories. What’s your name?”

“Danny. Danny Fenton.” The kid made a motion that might have been intended as a salute.

“Right. Jacob, you can stop it with your tough-guy act.”

Very reluctantly, Jacob lowered the gun. The kid, Danny or whatever, was way too cheerful for an eighteen-year-old walking through a zombie apocalypse on his own. Something was up.

Of course, that something might just be godawful coping mechanisms.

“Anyway, here are the zucchinis.” The boy held out a bag, a hopeful smile on his face. “So, uh, stories? Preferably about places where there’s a bunch of people, because that’s the kind of place they’d go.”

“Right, sure,” said the man who claimed leadership. “What are your parents, anyway?”

“Ah, they’re doctors!” said the boy. “I want to bring them home, so they can figure out a cure.”

Okay. So, the kid was delusional. Right. Well, it happened.

“I mean, we’ve had some success, but they’re specialists, you know? When I say ‘we’ I mean Amity Park as a whole, by the way. I’m the one who had the basic idea, I guess, but I didn’t have any way to follow through on my own. Observing a fact doesn’t mean you can take advantage of it, after all!”

“Amity Park?”

“Yep! That’s where I’m from.” Danny shot finger guns at Sharktooth. “We’ve got an environmental deterrent for zombies. Chemical in the air screws with the virus. Some get in every once in a while, but they usually die in a week, even if you leave them alone, which we don’t. It’s pretty safe, there. I can give you a map.”

“Is this a joke?” demanded the ‘leader.’

“Um, no? Why would it be a joke?”

“I met some people who tried to find your town, but it was a crater,” said Sharktooth.

“That’s still going on, huh?” Danny shook his head. “Yeah, we don’t really know why it does that, either. Or was that a couple years ago? We were trying to fix it…” He trailed off. “What?”

“You said you had medical supplies?” prompted the man trying very hard to stay in charge.

“Ah, right.” The kid reached into his bulkier bag and pulled out a large box. “Speaking of, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of anyone else trying to make a cure? Mom and Dad could be working with them, and if not,” he shrugged, then flipped up the lid of the box, “collaboration is always good.”

Half the box was full of various bottles, packets, and smaller boxes. Normal enough. The other half, though…

“Is that radioactive?” asked Jacob, unable to stop himself as he stared at the… God, were those epi-pens?

“Not in the sense you’re thinking of, but yes.”

“Oh my gosh,” said Mack. “I knew it! You’re Phantom!”

Danny looked up. “Um. I guess we’ve met?”

“Yeah, you took me to the Mastersoft Coliseum! That’s the stuff you injected me with!”

“Oh, you were the kid the Boom Box Raiders were dragging around!”

“Oh. Yeah,” said Mack, weakly. “That’s me.”

“Nice to see you’re still around. Anyway, to answer your next question, this is the prophylactic.” He picked up one of the glowing green injection pens. “At least, that’s what some of the doctors back home call it? If you get it within a minute of being bitten or scratched or whatever, preferably in the area near the wound, you have an eighty percent survival rate. Sometime more can help fighting off the disease, but if you’re not acclimated, you can go into shock with too much, and there’s really no way to get acclimated out here.”

“You’re willing to trade something like that?” asked Jade, dubiously.

“Why not? Like I said, it’s environmental where we live.”

“But you’re not there, now. You’re out here. Same as the rest of us.”

“That’s true. But I’ve got enough of this in my bloodstream to straight-up kill any zombie that wants to bite me. Really. I can show you the scars if you want.” He raised an eyebrow. Then he turned to their ever so brilliant leader with a sharp smile. “By the way, you should rethink robbing me. I am very willing to trade, but if you attack me, I have dozens of ways to kill you. Most of them don’t even involve my swords.”

“It’s true,” said Mack.

“You know what?” said Jacob, stepping a little closer to Danny, or Phantom, or whoever this kid was trying to be. “Why don’t you show us those scars. Then we can decide if we even want to trade with you.”

Phantom shrugged. “Fair enough.”

#danny phantom #ectober #ectober 2020 #ectober week #ectober week 2020 #day 7 #happy halloween!

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kakarmasobessioncorner · 4 years

Text

Hope your Holiday has been swell my Truce target @lexiepiper ! Here I have written you a lil something for your gift, if you have an A03 I’d love to know the username so I can properly link the fic to you on the site when I upload it. ^^ I hope you like it. <3

Can we Bridge this Divide Born of Lies?

Warnings: Alcohol use (just minor thing) Characters: Vlad Masters, Danny Phantom/Fenton

It was a chilly Friday evening in Winconsin, the perfect temperature for Danny. If he was out flying for any other reason than what he was he’d likely be in a good mood, however even the whisperings of the approaching winter in the air couldn’t distract him from the worry of what awaited him.

What he was doing was probably a really bad idea. Disastrously bad. Almost stepping into a questionable portal that wasn’t working for reasons unknown bad.

He was off to visit Vlad. Of his own free will.

Sam and Tucker had tried to convince him to at least wait so they could come as backup in case things went south, but he had a nagging feeling in the back of his head that this was an issue better dealt with sooner than later.

“Hey Fruitloop! You home?”

He didn’t bother to knock as he just flew right in through the door, carefully going room to room, wary of setting off any alarms as he looked for the other. Calling out as he went.

“Fruuuuuitloop! I’m not here to fight, I gotta talk to you about something!”

‘Okay maybe calling him a name he hates isn’t a good idea for a peaceful visit...’

The thought only paused him for a moment before he continued his search calling out for the other. It took him ten minutes of going from room to room to find the elder halfa. Surprised to see him with several empty bottles of something that looked like it may have been alcohol scattered around his feet and several more still full on the table next to him.

The charged Ectoshot on the other hand, wasn’t so surprising. “Daniel, what are you doing here.” He looked thoroughly unimpressed. “More importantly, what do I have to do to make you leave.”

“Now there’s no need to start shooting Plasmius, and I could be asking you the same thing. That doesn’t look healthy.” He knew that Vlad had been acting off the last few months but he wasn’t expecting this. “Are you okay?”

The look he got was concerningly lacking the normal fire.

“Daniel just tell me why you’re here. As you can see I’m clearly busy, and I know you don’t really care beyond your ‘hero complex’.”

Slowly Danny drifted to the ground, he and Vlad may be enemies but the scene in front of him was just screaming to his obsession. It felt so wrong to see his confident and powerful nemesis looking so empty and run down. He had seen that he’d been less and less into their fights, getting the feeling almost like they were just running through a script at this point. Still, he didn’t suspect it was this bad. “That’s not true.”

The elder scoffed, going to take another swig from the bottle in his hand. “Please, your hatred of me is pretty clear, and even I can admit, warranted-”

“I never hated you!” The interruption stunned him into silence, a shocked look on his face and bottle still halfway to his mouth.

“I never hated you, I hated what you did and how you acted, but I could never bring myself to hate you.” This wasn’t why he came here, yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself. What felt like a pull from his very core was pulling this confession out of him. It had been a long time coming and at last it seemed the final straw was found. “How could I? You made everything look easy while I struggled! The only other one like me was so cool and made fights look like you barely winded when I was putting my all into it.”

He took a deep breath, collecting himself from the sudden outburst flopping down in a seat across from the other.

“I didn’t come here to fight Vlad, and I didn’t come here because of some ‘hero complex’ that I do not have.” A small pause before he added in a voice barely above a whisper. “I’m tired of fighting. Will you just, hear me out? And stop trying to drink yourself into a stupor while I do so?”

It was a few tense moments of silence before he got his reply.

“Very well little badger. You have my undivided attention, and I was never going to get that drunk. Our ghost side makes it so alcohol has a much harder time affecting us, and I always had a high tolerance even before that. This is nothing.”

“Good, tha- wait hold on what? Really?”

“Yes Daniel. Our advanced healing also fights it off faster than a normal human, but less then a full ghost who would be unable to get drunk off of human drinks at all. Rather useful at times and assures you’ll never have a hangover.”

“Oh that’s going to be so fun to abuse in college if I get that far...”

Vlad cocked an eyebrow. “Didn’t you have something you wanted to say?”

“Right! Right, just uhh,” Danny sat up after a moment of hesitation, pulling his backpack he’d been wearing to sit in front of him. “This may poke at some old wounds… but it’s for a good reason, you just have to hold out!”

“That’s not exactly the most promising start, but fine, go ahead. I'll try to resist shooting you.”

“Gee thanks.” But he didn’t press the matter, just taking a moment to collect his thoughts, “Okay, well, you said that after your accident Mom and Dad never even tried to visit you right?”

He got a dirty glare at that question. “Yes, how could I ever forget Daniel?”

“Sorry, but that didn’t line up with their side of the story!” He opened his bag and pulled out a folder, rifling through the surprising number of pages in it. “See, they were going through some old albums a few days ago and found some old pictures from college. I was being held hostage as they reminisced, but noticed as they were talking Dad got sad mentioning how they tried to visit but the nurse turned them away saying for the first while that they couldn’t visit, and later that you didn’t want visitors.”

“Well your father is an idiot-”

“Shut up, I’m not done.” The teen interrupted. “I questioned that, and Mom confirmed it. So I did some digging with some help and…”

He pulled a memory stick out of the bag and held it out.

“We found the security footage someone attempted to delete, and it confirms it.”

“You… hacked into the hospital records…”

“Well no… I didn’t… but that’s not important.” Danny again interrupted, ignoring the dirty look. “You can get mad at me for the invasion of your privacy when I’m done talking okay? Okay.” He waited for any other comments, and when none came nodded to himself. “Okay, but yeah we checked and thought it was weird. If they were telling the truth that they visited, and you were telling the truth that they seemingly abandoned you, why would some random nurse stop clearly concerned friends from seeing their friend? Then I saw her name.” He pulled a couple pages out of the file and handed them over. Inside on the first sheet was a bunch of information on a woman named Celesta Peneppor, with bright red hair and striking green eyes she almost seemed to be smirking in her photo.

“I swear I’d seen her somewhere before and turns out I was right. She didn’t bother to disguise herself and her name was a freaking anagram!”

The next page was surprisingly professional looking despite been clearly made by the trio of teens, full of information on a ghost by the name of Penelope Spectra. “She’s a monster who feeds on misery, and mentioned in one fight I had with her that ‘Halfas have such potent feelings’ and I didn’t question it at the time, but this does make that make more sense.”

The teen folded his hands in his lap as he watched Vlad look though the sheets he was given, waiting for a reply.

“Why did you come tell me this Daniel.”

The room was silent long enough that Vlad was going to talk again, to tell him to just leave, when Danny beat him to it and spoke back up.

“You looked so happy.” He was quiet, looking down at his folded hands. “In the pictures. I found out your hate was directed at the wrong person, and I can’t blame you for some of how you’ve been before since I know that if I was in your place, losing those I cared about in a painful sudden way, I would be a mess too… or worse…”

Vlad looked for a moment like he was going to interrupt, but Danny just kept on talking. Looking up from his hands and locking eyes with him. The teen's eyes looking far too mature for someone his age, eyes that knew more than most.

“Betrayal and loss can make even the most morally just person into a monster, but they didn’t betray you. They thought you hated them for what happened and that’s why you apparently had the nurse turn them away, and yet they still kept trying to keep in contact because they cared despite Spectra’s keeping them away. They were, especially Dad, so happy when you came back into contact. But now you know who’s really at fault, and you can direct your anger at the right person who deserves it.”

His voice had turned almost desperately hopeful at the end, eyes so heavy and tired.

"It's not that simple, little badger."

"Why not? Can't you at least try? What do you have to lose? Your pride? I beat that into the dust in our fights all the time!" His core ached in a desperation he hadn’t been expecting, the pull from it making him feel like he had to make sure Vlad at least tried. "All you have is things to gain from it. Like your friends back...and..."

He stood up, walking up to Vlad with his head held high and hand held out, as unwavering as the determined look in his eyes.

"A truce? Or hopefully even an alliance?"

It was silent for a few moments as if the elder wasn’t going to reply, so he added softly.

"Please. Just try."

He put down the drink, and for a moment Danny thought he was going to shoot at him to make him leave, but instead both his hands came out to grasp his outstretched one.

"You're not the only one tired of fighting my dear boy."

“I’ll try.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

When Danny eventually left after a while of them talking about the best way to go about his ‘trying’ to reconnect with his old friends, something the boy seemed to have put considerable thought into and was dead serious about supporting, Vlad slumped. Running his hand through his hair.

That had not been what he was expecting when he felt the other's signature entering his mansion. He’d thought the younger Halfa had been coming to blame him for something that was going wrong back in Amity Park. Not...whatever that was.

“I hope you're not expecting anything immediate. My own long held grudges aside, they don’t think anything was wrong. Your bumbling idio-” A glare from Danny had him stop to correct himself. “Jack, may not notice if I try to act more civil around him, but Maddie certainly would notice and likely get suspicious.”

The teen chuckled. “I mean she definitely noticed that you were acting like a creep-tastic fruitloop before, so that would be a big change.”

“Precisely, and I’d rather avoid being accused of being overshadowed. Their weapons do hurt after all.”

“Yeah you don’t have to remind me…” Of course he didn’t. Danny was shot at far more often than he was, more often then he really wanted to consider. “But there’s a simple solution.”

“Do tell.”

The teen took a seat, not even bothering to go back to sit in the seat, just letting himself float up cross-legged.

“Have you ever seen any cheesy reality shows?”

“Of course not.” Vlad Scoffed, looking downright insulted.

“Guess even you aren’t that evil… but yeah so Jazz likes to watch it to analyze the characters and even to me it’s really obvious what the problem is.” Something was off, and he had a feeling there was more to it than that. “Just, tell them. Tell them the truth.”

Danny very quickly got a look that told him what the other thought of that idea, namely how stupid he thought it was.

“I thought the goal was to not get shot.”

“I don’t mean the whole half-ghost thing! I mean the ‘I thought you abandoned me so was a bit of a dick’. Just apologize for being off around them and admit you want to try again if they do still want to be friends. They’ll freak out thinking you hated them, act confused, and all is good!”

He leaned back doing a little flip in the air with a quiet ‘Tada!’.

It was an admittedly decent idea all things considered once it was talked out and it was worded better...mostly considering who it was from, but it would be hard to push aside his pride enough to try.

However after the teen had left, Vlad noticed something odd.

For years he was bothered by the little nagging feeling, a feeling that he instinctively knew once his core had developed was from his obsession begging to be indulged. He had learnt that as a Halfa he wasn’t as strongly driven by his obsession as full ghosts, and even less than Daniel he’d later noticed. He could ignore it, but it was like an itch you can't scratch that only got worse the longer he ignored it.

It was when it reached a simply maddening level that he decided to try and go after his revenge at last. The beginnings of planning finally, finally, seemed to scratch the itch. He was working towards his obsession and that alone was enough to help lessen the pull, but it was also like a drug. He wanted more, and so worked harder and became more focused. He knew that…

It took him awhile to realize though.

A while of causing harm and driving away the only other of his kind in an obsession driven case of tunnel vision he only broke free of when it stopped helping his obsession. Stopped feeding that drive and just leaving him tired, and alone.

Alone. Alone.

It hurt, and the need to feed his obsession eventually snapped him out of his craze and made him realize he was alone and that he was in no way making progress to the family he so wanted to love.

He was tired.

Still he continued in his ways, trapped in a routine that no longer helped him and just put him further and further from any chance to be happy. Only getting the smallest spark of joy from his fights with Danny though the bantering, and even that was utterly eviscerated once it was over, only to be replaced with a pain from acting against his obsession.

This was different though, for the first time in ages it faded almost completely. Just from talking with the other halfa peacefully he felt amazing, even more so than when he first started working to take Maddie as his own.

Daniel actually cared. He didn’t hate him and wanted to be allies.

All he had to do was let go of the hate he’d been harboring for years… hate that was apparently misplaced. It would just take him putting aside his pride for a little to do so, but ghosts were naturally prideful things and that was a ghostly trait he had picked up, be it from his contamination or just his rise to power. It was a strong part of him and he was loathe to go through with the blow this would land on it.

However his core screamed to follow through with this chance for fulfillment at last.

He had two weeks to decide if he would go through with Danny’s plan.

Two very long weeks to argue with himself he wasn’t looking forward to.

Only time would tell.

#Karma's Writing of Obsessions #Karma's Current Obsession: Danny Phantom #Danny Phantom #danny phantom fic #holiday truce 2019

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