#blueoatmeal's work

[blueoatmeal]

Paranoiattack, a Red Alert playlist

[8tracks]     [YouTube]

[watery-melon-baller]

You mentioned a fic that someone wrote about Vlad getting sick in a thermos for too long, do you happen to know what fic it was? It sounds really interesting 0.0

Oh yeah, it's super interesting! It's a oneshot called All Nighters by @blueoatmeal on Ao3, here's the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21563959. Definitely recommend checking it out, it's peak Fenton Thermos content.

[dp-marvel94]

Fractured

For the Phic Phight 2021.

Prompt by @blueoatmeal. Fracture: At his creation, he was a fusion of two mismatched halves. Now, the Dark Phantom is split into two pieces again.

Word Count: 4828

Also on A03 and Fanfiction.net

Warnings for suicide mention, mention of blood, general TUE timeline awefullness

This took me so long to finish but I'm done. I've actually really wanted to write something like this for a while. It's also inspired this post, a conversation with @all-out-disney based on a prompt by @danphanwritingprompts.

When he had first been created, it was painful. The combination of two mismatched parts, two fractured pieces that never should have come together to form a whole. In the beginning, Phantom and Plasmius had fought against each other. Everything had been confusion and pain. So much information, so many memories and sensations clashing together. The two had nearly fallen apart at the start. But the thing holding them together? Anger.

Kill it! Kill the brat!

No! No! The new being’s hands held their head while it screamed.

Weak! It was his fault! In his head, one voice screamed. His fault they’re gone.

His fault? The other voice asked, the words echoing in their head.

An enraged hiss. His fault! His fault! 

They’re gone.

Gone! He threw us away! 

A fresh memory. Being ripped out of his body, his souls being pulled apart. Oozing, bleeding. A pain in his inmost being.

He threw us away...But...

In front of the lanky, blue skinned ghost, a blue-eyed boy trembled. Danny’s human half whimpered. “Please! Stay away!”

Quick! Do it now! In the air, the new ghost twitched, hunched over in pain.

But...I don’t want to-

He didn’t want us. Didn’t want us. Pain. Pain. His fault.

That licked at their anger. He didn’t want me. A growl. This was supposed to fix things, supposed to make the pain go away.

It’s his fault.

The human pressed up against the wall, his breath quickening. “No. This is wrong. This is wrong.”

“This is your fault.” The new being hissed, his voice a sick, twisted echo of the human’s.

Danny shook, eyes widening. “No. I didn’t...I didn’t want this.”

I didn’t want this. One voice echoed the human’s words.

Kill him! Before he destroys us!

Shakily, one hand lit with an ectoblast. Their eyes widened with terror even as a wicked grin stretched across their face.

No! I don’t-

The being shot the blast anyway. Danny screamed as the energy burned him. He scrambled to get away, his hands reaching for something to protect himself with. He grabbed a green and silver device and jabbed it at the ghost.

The flaming-haired figure growled in pain. It hurt. Everything hurt. It wasn’t supposed to hurt anymore.

Make the pain go away. Destroy the weakness.

Weakness. The part of them that was, that had been Phantom, remembered. Pain. Too weak, too slow, too stupid to save them. Curled on his bed, crying until he couldn’t breath. Wishing he could just die. There’ll be no pain if he’s dead.

Die then. The part that was Plasmuis, remembered. His phone dropped out of his numb gripp. He never got his revenge, never got Maddie as his bride. Listening to Daniel weep, the boy broken, withering away. Pathetic, weak.

Anger surged at the sight in front of them, worsened by the pain of the attack. The new ghost lunged, red hot rage coalescing the battling thoughts into a single line, a single drive.

Make the pain go away.

The human Danny never had a chance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The new ghost settled, smoothing out into something like one being. He grew in power and ability. He didn’t worry about things like names. Everyone who really knew where he’d come from was dead. As was his past. His past didn’t matter. (But it did. It did. It still hurt so much. He still missed his parents. His dear Maddie, the oaf Jack. Sam and Tucker. Daniel’s little friends. His sister. Jasmine.)

No, that didn’t matter. None of it mattered. None. All there was, all that matter was his work. He had important work to do. He needed to amass more power so he could take what he wanted, do what he wanted. And what he wanted? For the pain to go away, at a global, no, a universal scale. No one would hurt if they all were dead.

He was never supposed to exist. Really all things considered, he shouldn’t. He was two fragments clinging to each other. (But...that gap, that hole it was still there. It was still there. He shouldn’t have killed Danny Fenton. He missed...he missed Danny. He missed being Danny). He was better without those weak human halves (Lie.) He was never supposed to exist  and yet...here he was. And he would do what he needed to.

Years passed. The new ghost, called The Dark Phantom or just Phantom by his enemies and victims, (The name sickened him.) raged. He killed and maimed and destroyed. Ghosts were warped by his hand. Blood was spilled. The world was ravaged. He tried to destroy humanity but they were resilient. (He should stop. He needed to stop. He didn’t want this.)

He started collecting objects of power. The crown of fire. The ring of rage. He destroyed the Ghost King. The Infinite Realms were under his thumb. 

And then...he discovered the Reality Gauntlet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Dark Phantom floated over the ravaged battlefield. Builds crumbled around him, the smell of smoke and fresh spilled blood filling his nose. He grinned wickedly, clutching his prize in his hands. The humans had fought to keep it from them, they really had. Those idiotic GIW had hid it deep underground years before, their only intelligent action before he’d overpowered them. They’d destroyed all physical and digital records of it.

But he’d found it. He’d found the Reality Gauntlet anyway, killing and destroying anyone and anything in his path. Even now, his greatest human enemy, Valerie Gray the Ghost Slayer, laid dead at his feet. Even she’d fallen in the futile attempt to keep ultimate power out of his hands.But she’d failed. They all had failed. And now he held the glove in his gasp.

The ghost laughed evilly. And now he could have anything, anything at all he wanted. He floated higher, looking towards something at the horizon at the green glow of a ghost shield. Within that barrier laid Amity Park, the last resistance, humanities’ last stronghold. And now he could destroy it. One thought and he could destroy everything.

The ghost flew closer, coming to stop at a hill overlooking the city. It was a rare bare area, free of the usual twisted metal and broken concrete of apocalyptic landscape. Instead, there was just knee length grass. He landed and slid the glove onto his right hand.

Now, how did he want to do this? How did he want to destroy this thorn in his side? Fire? Nuclear explosion? Maybe he should freeze it solid? Not that was stupid. Asteroid impact? Suck it into a black hole? Maybe he should just suck the whole planet into a black hole. The ghost tapped his chin. He had always wondered what that would be like. What did a black hole actually look like in person? What would it be like to fall into one? What would it feel like? Would you really sit at the event horizon and watch all of time for the rest of the universe pass in the eternal moment before you were ripped apart?

The Dark Phantom shivered. There was the space nerdiness again. It did love to rear its head at the strangest moments. He shook his head. He needed to focus on how he would destroy his hometown. The place where he’d grown up, where he’d learned to ride a bike and meet his friends. Where he’d watched the stars and gone to high school and where he’d died the first time. Where his friends and family had died. 

The images flashed in his mind and the ghost pinched his eyes closed. A fiery explosion, concrete and metal, his pounding heart as he stood intangible in the middle of the wreckage. (He should have died with them.) Numb, sitting with the paramedics. Shock, they said. It was weeks before he spoke again. Standing in the rain, the two half ghosts together. Danny hadn’t even had the energy to flinch away when Vlad had put his hand on his shoulder, smuggly smiling down at the boy. Staring at the grave. Graves that were on the other side of the shield.

The ghost shivered, pushing the images away. No, stop that. Stop that. He would destroy them. He’d destroy the graves and the city. The plants that Sam loved so much, all the technology that Tucker tinkered with. Every single last book that his sister, Jasmine, studied. Every, single damn blasted ghost that his parents, his dear friends, were obsessed with. He’d destroy all of it, all of it damn it. He pressed the Gaunlet’s gems in sequence. He’d never have to look at their graves, remember any painful memory ever again.

The Dark Phantom pressed his will into the gems. With his eyes closed, his fractured soul poured its deepest desire into the glove. Power surged out of the Gauntlet, the smell of ozone burning the air. The ghost braced himself. It would happen any second now, the one thing he wanted. It would be his and all of this would be over. But...there was nothing. No heat, no cold, no explosion, no screaming, no crying. Nothing.

Instead, there were five soft thumps in front of him and one behind him. The ghost didn’t dare look yet. Then finally, after what felt like forever, there was a gasp. The ghost opened his eyes and his jaw dropped. There in front of him were five people. Each was sitting on the ground, rubbing their heads. None were looking at him yet. But his eyes flickered between the figures.

This couldn’t….this couldn’t be. It couldn’t...He knew...No...He didn’t….he didn’t. They couldn’t be...these weren’t….but….

Sam? Tucker? He wanted to ask, but the words choked him. He glanced between the two. Sam, who was staring angrily at the ruined environment. Tucker, who was taking his glasses on and off, as if that would change what he was seeing. 

But the image didn’t change, no matter how many times the ghost blinked. Here they were. They were really here, right in front of him. His (Daniel’s little) best friends. These two who’d been with him through it all. Through tests and projects and long days at the arcade and the waterpark. Through the accident. Through the power malfunctions and the late night ghost fighting. (No, he’s been alone. His friends had left him in that hospital to rot.)  Through injuries and secrets and- 

“Madds? Where are we?” Dad’s (Jack’s) cut through. 

The ghost’s eyes widened. It was his Dad. His Dad! The man who read him bedtime stories and chased away the ‘ghosts’ in the closet and hugged him close when he was scared. (That oaf always ate all the food he’d bought from himself! He made a mess of the dormroom.) 

The ghost whined, clenching his head. It ached with the contradictions. Happiness, relief, pure joy, the love of a child for their parents. Dad had taught him how to tie a tie and had driven him to the movies and took him stargazing. Anger, Hatred, The Longing for vengeance. (He stole the love of his life! He couldn’t obey the most basic laboratory safety!)

“I don’t know.” Mom’s (Maddie’s) voice cut through. She rapidly looked side to side, eyes widening with fear. “How did we get here?”

His Mom, his core sang. His mom. The woman who’d kissed his bo-bos and made him cookies and taught him self defense and took him out for milkshakes. (The most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on.)

Head throbbing, the ghost doubled over, feeling sick. No. NO! That was wrong. This was wrong. No.

“Ghost!” Dad (the oaf) suddenly yelled.

The sound of feet stomping towards him. “You! Do you bring us here, ghost?”

The ghost looked up, shakingly meeting the woman’s (beautiful) purple eyes. “Yes...no...I..I..” His insides churned, painfully as he shrunk back from her angry glare. This was his mom. She was supposed to be happy to see him. He’d brought her back. Now he could finally steal her from Jack. The ghost growled. “Shut up.”

“What did you say to me?!” Mom glared, pulling an ectogun from her holster.

“Mo-addie.” The ghost cried, his quickly fragmenting mind switching between the two names. He stumbled backwards as Sam and Tucker finally seemed to notice the adults. 

“Mrs. F!” Tucker exclaimed. 

“Mr. Fenton!” Sam shakily stood up, rushing to the man.

“Sam. Tuck.” The ghost whispered. He was shaking, his knees knocking together. It hurt. His insides hurt. This was...he was wrong. This wasn’t...he wasn’t...this didn’t….

Mom...Maddie...Mom continued pointing the gun at him. “Where are we?”

He groaned, falling to his knees. The flame of his hair flickered erratically.

In front of him, Jack...Dad...Jack...had run to the still unconscious Jazz. He shook her roughly and the girl groaned. Sam and Tucker found the pair, helping the older teen sit up. 

“Who are you?” Mom spat out.

Who? Who...he didn’t….

Jazz blinked, taking in her surroundings. She then turned to the side, her eyes falling on his. Her gaze flickered to the emblem on his chest. Her mouth feels open. “Danny?” She whispered.

His mind stopped. Danny? That was (not) his name. Or it had been. (No it wasn’t). It had been his name. No. He...he missed...he missed that name. (That brat, that fool, pathetic). The ghost whined, his insides revolting. His eyes flickered. Red. Green. Red. Green. The black and white on his suit swirled, shifted.

“Danny.” Jazz repeated, more certain.

The ghost nodded. Then he shook his head. Yes. No. Both. Neither. Both….Yes...No...

“What...what’s happening to him?” Tucker asked fearfully.

What was happening?! What was happening?! He wrapped his arms around his middle as if that could hold him together. Maybe….no…

“Never mind that!” Sam hissed. “What happened to us? How did we get here?”

“The last thing I remember is….” Jazz’s eyes widened with shock and pain. “We...we..all of us, we….”

“You all died.” A voice, a new voice behind him, whispered. 

The ghost tensed, stiffening. He shook torn between wanting desperately to look and being terrified (disgusted) with what he’d see because-

“You all...you all died.” The young male voice choked out again.

That voice, it was so familiar. It was...it was...Rapidly, Jazz, Sam, and Tucker looked between the ghost and the figure standing behind him.

Shakily, Jazz stood, her eyes focusing on the speaker behind the ghost. "Danny?" Her eyes flickered to Dark Phantom (?) again. "You're both…. How are you…?" She stuttered, unable to ask the vital question.

But the ghost knew what she was asking. He knew who was behind him but-

"Jazz." Feet shuffled towards him. "You're...you're alive. You're all alive." A whisper. "I'm...I'm alive."

The ghost felt a sensation, so similar, almost like a heart skipping a beat. Shakily, he started to turn. 

It made sense, in a strange way, for him to have brought back his friends and family (but why would he care about Daniel's little friends or that oaf?) A shake of the head. No, stop that. It did make sense. It did. But bringing HIM back?

Another foot step sounded behind, to his left. The ghost's eyes finally met the speaker's eyes, familiar blue eyes.

Danny, Danny Fenton, identical to the the day he died, stood in front of him. The boy stared at him with a complicated expression. Fear, shock, confusion, awe. It was all there. He blinked, lip twitching. "You….you brought me back." 

His core squeezed and pulsed, his form rippling as pain shot through him. Danny Fenton. He'd brought Danny Fenton (himself, his human half; the insolent brat) back to life. Back to life. Because he never should have killed him in the first place. (Why shouldn't he have?) No! He shouldn't have! That was a mistake! A mistake! The pain was supposed to go away when he destroyed his humanity but it did, it didn't! 

His whole body was smoking, cracks forming along his skin. The ache had just grown, gap yawning wider. Instead of being whole, complete, he...they...were two fragments clinging together for stability, for survival. He wasn't supposed to exist like this.

Questions, demands were buzzing around him but there was no registering the words. In front of him, Danny was rapidly backing away, eyes widening with fear.

Danny. Daniel. An arrogant hiss. He missed Danny, he missed being Danny. He missed being alive. No he didn't, that was ridiculous.

"No!" A roar, two voices screaming at once.

The being writhed, hastily made connection tearing. They weren't supposed to exist like this. So they didn't.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phantom and Plasmius broke apart, flying in opposite directions. The younger ghost skidded across the grass before careening to a stop. He curled in on himself, shaking and whining. 

Around him, alarmed and confused questions rose in volume but he couldn't hear over the brief sound of someone cackling and the sound of his sobs.

Wait, sobs? When had he started crying? He sniffled, a tear falling down his face. Yep, crying. He was crying. He shook, great emotion overcoming him. Horror, sorrow, grief, guilt. He...he remembered everything, all the horrible things he'd done with Plasmius.

"Danny! Danny! Get away from the ghost!" Mom was yelling.

Sneakered feet approached, a lithe figure falling to his knees in front of Phantom. Warm, peach colored hands reached out, grabbing his arms and pulling him into a seated position. 

The emotions intensified, hitting the ghost like a brick wall. A double memory. Killing his human half. Being killed by his ghost half. The first murder of his reign of terror. His botched yet successful suicide. It was excruciating, tearing his soul from both sides.

"I..I…" Phantom gasped, finally meeting the blue eyes through the tears. 

"You and Plasmius...you killed me." Fenton said without accusation.

"I...I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Phantom begged. The words didn't cover it at all, the width and depth of his iniquity, of the travesties he'd committed in his insanity.

"I asked you to." Fenton whispered, looking down guiltily. "I wanted to die." He shifted, pulling Phantom towards him. "Oh god. I shouldn't have split us. I shouldn't have done that."

The ghost didn't resist as Fenton wrapped his arms around him. Instead, he clung to the human as if he would disappear. "I shouldn't...I shouldn't have joined Plasmius. I shouldn't have killed you." His core spasmed, again threatening to fracture under the strain. "I shouldn't...oh god I...I destroyed everything." 

He could barely comprehend what he and Plasmius had done, all he'd been through. And the guilt wared with other feelings at the edge of his perception. Part of him wanted to be hopeful, happy even if it was so abominably selfish. He'd missed being human, being alive. He missed being Danny Fenton. But…. Danny Fenton was in front of him, his still living soul and body pressed up against his chest. He'd brought himself back to life.

And his friends and family. They were behind him. Sam, Tucker, and Jazz were holding his parents back and offering them cursory explanations. For a brief moment, Phantom wondered; how did Jazz know his secret? 

But then the greater issue reared its head. His loved ones didn't know what was going on here. They didn't know the world he'd dragged them into. And now, they didn't need two broken, inconsolable pieces. They needed all of him. They needed Danny.

Phantom breathed, pulling this human self closer as he felt Fenton's agreement. He relaxed, feeling his body become tingling and numb. He let go of tangibly, becoming nothing more than a cloud. He was fog being burned away by the morning light. No, he was a cup of water poured back into the lake he'd come from. He was liquid, spreading out, diffusing into a larger body of water, the newly added molecules indistinguishable from the old. Phantom dissolved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a flash of light. Danny Fenton-Phantom remained frozen on his knees. His arms wrapped around himself as he cried. 

This didn't feel like the last time, with the ghost catcher. Then, when he'd finally come back to himself, there had been relief, the feeling of coming home after a long, tiring day. But now, it still hurt. He was home but he didn't belong here, didn't deserve this. He looked up, heart throbbing with love for his family and friends. He didn't deserve them but they needed him.

Shakily, with great effort, Danny pushed himself to his feet. He met his sister's eyes and she ran to him. Finally the two hugged.

"Jazz." He sniffed.

"Little brother." The girl squeezed him.

"I love you so much." He vowed.

The rest approached, his eyes flickering among each person one at a time. "Sam. Tucker." A pause. Finally. "Mom. Dad."

"Danny." Mom's voice rang with a dozen emotions as she joined the hug. "My baby boy."

"I love you. I love you so much. " Danny repeated as his loved ones surrounded him in an embrace. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I love you. I love you guys. I'm sorry. "

The others muttered much the same, assurances of love and apologies. Danny never wanted it to end but it did as the group pulled apart.

His loved ones looked around, faces pale with worry. Finally Tucker asked. "Dude, what happened here?" 

"Was it the ghosts?" Dad asked, alarmed.

Danny flinched at the words. Guilty, he looked down.

Sam bit her lip. "Was it Plasmius?"

Somehow, the boy curled in on himself even more. "It was me." He muttered.

Danny paled, bracing himself. He expected horror and disgust. Accusation. Hateful sneers. And he would deserve it, all of it. But instead, the group stared at him in disbelief.

"Dude, there's no way." Tucker started.

"You couldn't have done this." Sam denied, perfectly confident.

"I did. It was me." Danny whined. "You all were gone and I was all alone. And I just...I was so angry." He gnawed on his lip. "And I just wanted to stop hurting but it didn't work and I thought…." He trailed off. 

Thinking back, the rationale didn't make sense. He couldn't grasp it, couldn't understand what his, his and Plasmius' motivation had been. The thoughts  seemed to slip through his fingers, refusing to stay in his brain. Danny wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing.

"It couldn't have been just you." Jazz softly said, drawing him out of his thoughts. Her hand gently wrapped around his arm. "We saw what happened with that blue skinned ghost." She whispered, as if this was a tightly kept secret.

Nervously, Danny’s eyes flickered to his parents who looked confused and deeply troubled. It was actually surprising that they hadn’t pointed the ectogun at him again, not after they apparently saw his ghost and human halves fuse back together. Obviously, his sister or friends explained that to them and they somehow believed it, or were too overwhelmed to really process. But the bigger problem? Everyone saw the fusion of Phantom and Plasmius fall apart. Again, he shivered at the memory of being even a part of that monster.

“So you and Plasmius….” Sam trailed off, nose wrinkling in disgust.

That disgust was justified, the very idea repulsive. But he’d been angry and desperate after the split. He, the Phantom part, had wanted to be stronger. Because if he had been, then maybe everyone wouldn’t have died. He’d been so angry at the older half ghost, for all the shit Vlad had put him through. And he’d been in so much pain. Vlad was so cold, so unfeeling. If he could be like that, if he could just be numb and selfish for once-

Danny couldn’t bear to say any of that, instead changing the subject. “Plasmius, where did he go?” He looked around, seeing no trace of the other ghost. His brow wrinkled in sudden alarm. “And where’s the Gauntlet?”

“Gauntlet?” His mom blinked, brow furrowing at the question.

Jazz frowned. “That glove thing? Plasmius took it, when he flew off.”

Danny’s heart skipped a beat. He flew off. With the Gauntlet. And he hadn’t noticed until now. No one had said anything either. And….the other ghost could do anything with the reality altering item.

Shakily, the half ghost pulled away from his loved ones. “I need to go after him.” With a thought, he summoned the rings around his waist. His parents’ eyes both widened in alarm while the others looked concerned. He ignored the looks, transforming and floating off the ground.

Danny took an unneeded breath, looking around for any sign of Plasmius in the distance. Which direction would he have gone? The boy frowned, considering. But he didn’t know. He’d just have to set off in one direction and hope he could find him and get the Gauntlet back. He looked around, flinching at the destruction. He’d used it to bring his loved ones back but he still needed it to-

Something blue and white appeared on the horizon, rapidly approaching. The half ghost flinched, recognizing the figure. He shifted in the air, floating to stand between his friends and family and the approaching ghost. Taking a fighting stance, Danny balled his fists and lit them with ectoenergy.

Moments later, Plasmius materialized in front of him. “Daniel.” He looked down at the boy distastefully. “I see you’ve managed to pull yourself back together.”

The boy frowned. “Yes.” He warily eyed the Gauntlet clenched in the other ghost’s hands. “What are you gonna do with that?”

The vampiric ghost scowled. He silently floated for a moment, before his form seemed to glitch, flickering like a broken TV.  His face briefly scrunched up in pain, nose wrinkling. Then his expression smoothed out, turning into something forcefully neutral. He heavily dropped the glove at Danny’s feet. “Fix this.”

The boy stared down at the Gauntlet, blinking in confusion. He bent down and grabbed it, tightly holding the object in his hand.

Behind him, Tucker asked. “Why didn’t he just use it? Ow! Sam!” Obviously, the girl had elbowed him.

Plasmius said nothing, still scowling while Danny considered. Why didn’t the man use it himself? The other ghost’s image flickered again, causing him to let out a low hiss of pain.

“You can’t.” Danny finally said, realization hitting him. “You’re too unstable.” 

It was the other reason their dark version stayed together. Both halves would have faded away, destabilizing into ectoplasm within minutes. And there would have been no solution. Phantom had killed his other half. And Plasmius’ was somewhere in Wisconsin, too far away to be of any help now.

“Fix this.” The other ghost growled again, looking at something in the distance.

This time, there was a greater weight to the words. It wasn’t just a request to be stabilized. It was a demand for more. To clean up the rest of the mess they’d made together.

Danny slipped on the glove. Looking down, he pressed the gems in sequence. Fix this. He needed to fix this. He could fix the damage, heal the people he’d hurt, bring back those who were gone. But…. he remembered his loved ones’ haunted expressions. The horror with which they looked around the destitute environment. 

The halfa closed his eyes, knowing what he needed to do. He took a breath and pushed his desire into gems. The world went white.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny Fenton woke up in his bed, the remnants of a long nightmare in his mind. The boy groaned, burying his face in his pillow. 

“Danny!” His mom called through the door. “Get up.”

The boy didn’t respond, groaning again. 

At that, the woman opened the door. “Danny. You have to get up. You’re taking the CAT today.”

CAT? His brow furrowed at the information. He was taking the CAT. Slowly, the half ghost sat up. 

“Good.” His mother nodded. “Breakfast is ready downstairs. Go ahead and get dressed.”

After she closed the door, Danny stood. He started getting dressed as she said. His brow still furrowed with confusion. His dream. He’d been dreaming about? He couldn’t quite remember, except it had been horrible. A sense of dread overcame him. And...he needed to fix something. He had to fix something.

Danny pulled on his shirt. He then turned, grabbing his bookbag. It fell open, revealing a manila envelope. Guilt squeezed his heart. The CAT test answers. He picked up the sheet, stuffing it back inside his bag. 

Dread passed through him again, his stomach flopping. He still needed to fix something. But it couldn’t just be about his cheating, right? There was something else.

“Danny! Your father’s going to eat all the bacon if you don’t hurry up.” Mom called.

Danny frowned. Whatever it was, he would figure it out and everything would be okay. Right?

[localrobosexual]

(tagged by @primal-shitposts!!)

name of the game is to add five pics from ur device's gallery that describes your aesthetic! luckily I still had some stuff leftover in a pinterest folder I forgot to delete so hELL YEAH I ACTUALLY HAVE STUFF TO WORK WITH EHEHEJKSHDKFS

I'm gonna tag uhhh @blueoatmeal @oliviikate and @friixr!! don't have to do it if u don't want to ofc tho! <3

[sector-z-knd]

Roll for Optimism (chapters 1-3) by @blueoatmeal

Link to fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22746985/chapters/54353701

Voices done by me, art from Hollow Knight

Audiofic inspired by Stag Beetles and Broken Legs by @aryashi and @lost-kinn (Link to fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17400464/chapters/40956125)

[phandombingo]

Phandom Bingo Masterlist

Hey guys! Since this event is officially over, I figured I’d compile a list of everyone’s fics in case not everyone got around to reading them. I know that I loved reading them all this past week! Most of them are on Tumblr, but a few of them are linked to AO3. Listed by number of prompts completed.

@darks-ink [25]: How Rare And Beautiful It Is (To Even Exist)

@hadesghostgirl [25]: Family Reunion | King of Ghosts | The Great Mermaid Dani | Ghost Girl | Emily | Jazz's Little Brother | Space: A girl's worst enemy

@phantombreadproject [25]: Flaming Family | Ghost Sauce | At Least He’s Getting Paid | Double Date | The Phantom Of Waverly Place | Stars Above | He’s A... Fenton? | A (Water) Drop of Payback | The Bar Is Set In The Next Galaxy Over

@dpjustified [23]: Bingo #1 | Bingo #2 | Bingo #3 | Bingo #4 | Bingo #5 | Bingo #6 | Bingo #7

@spinningground [17]: Hungry Intern | An Evening in Autumn | Teens at Work | Creatures of the Sea

@phantomphangphucker [17]: Danny’s Family Only Body Worlds Interactive Display | Phabulous Phashion | Nip Trips Nip | Gifted? Or Dead? | Not So Strangers In The Night | Danny’s His Corpses Piñata Stuffing | The Baffled, Braised and Butchered

@mr-lancers-english-class [9]: Talks of Freedom | High Court of the Ghost King | The Rescue | Stuck in the Thermos

@katwritesthings [8]: My Name is Danny | Space

@phantomofprocrastination [8]: Ghost Hunger | Intern Danny and the Ghost nip | Would you like a Punch with that? | Swagger Bishie

Dawn_Khee [7]: Winter Solstice Skies | Family Fathoms | Ice and Fire

@dp-marvel94 [5]: Family Reunion

@horrendoushag [5]: The Nasty Ecto Fries

@wastefulreverie [5]: hurts so much when I think so deep | Vexed Vapors

@blueoatmeal [5]: All Nighters | Casual Conversations | Heavy Hangs the Head That Wears the Paper Burger King Crown

@aedelia [4]: Touch the Stars

@anthropwashere [4]: we go around, one foot nailed down

@transannabeths [4]: as the river flows into the sea | take your kid to work day will always be boring, no matter what youre the king of

@voidetrap [3]: Danny interns for the GIW

@catalystofthesoul [2]: Tucker punches Vlad | Danny Interns for GIW

@daddyphannypack  [1]: Next Gen

[phicphight]

Halfa Of A Different Breed

FIC CAN BE READ HERE: ao3

Boy be getting shrunk, Tiny Terror, ghost au, Alternate Universe - Borrowers Fusion, mild anxiety. Complete. Rated G. Word Count: 5580

Pairings: None

Trigger Warnings: mild anxiety

Author: @burning-clutch (Team Ghost)

“Borrowers -- Everything is the same except ghosts are all fairy-sized. An ex-human would be about an inch tall for every foot tall they were in life“ - @blueoatmeal (Team Human)

***

Danny Fenton was a teen who came from an odd family. Well, a lot of kids would probably say they came from a family that was a little off beat, but for Danny, it was amplified tenfold.

 Embarrassing eccentric, and overprotective parents? Check that box times a million, right down to the weird smelling herbs his mother would smear on his clothes and skin if she thought he was 'possessed' by some kind of fairy or nymph or ghost, or well anything else that came from the land of the supernatural.

 His parents, as much as they were publicly known as mad scientist inventors to the town or well, really anyone outside of the Fenton family themselves, those within, actually worked up the courage to talk to one of the odd looking people or were friends of the tight knit clan knew the truth behind the eccentric inventions and odd collection of items or 'weapons' they carried.

Continue reading...

[ladylynse]

Another Phic Phight entry, courtesy of @blueoatmeal‘s prompt “Domesticated: Vlad’s daily life from the perspective of his cat”. ...I somehow managed to write three thousand words without any dialogue, which is rare for me, even considering how much I typically capitalize on introspection. Humour and fluff this time (in drastic contrast to last time). [FF | AO3]

From day one, she had known that the human who foolishly thought he owned her was not like other humans. True, she couldn’t complain about the name he had given her—Maddie surely suited her better than Fluffy—and it was not as if she expected him to be able to pick up on the nuances of her true name, but he was different from the others who sometimes came by. His scent was more…distinctive than most.

There wasn’t just determination, ingenuity, desperation, obsession, or any other trait or emotion that sprang to the fore and blended back into his unique scent, as it was with other humans. No matter the food he ate, the acrid chemicals he used, or the expensive cologne he wore, he could not mask the underlying smell that raised her hackles and warned of sickness and death. He could not wash it away, either. It never faded, though there were times it grew stronger.

When she’d first arrived, it had been weeks before she’d stopped fleeing from him, stopped hiding the moment she’d sensed his approach. It had been weeks before she’d trusted him enough to stay in the same room, and weeks more before she’d deigned to allow him to touch her.

In the end, she’d decided he was trainable, and he’d deluded himself into thinking the same of her.

She was happy to keep him company during the odd hours he kept, though she had no idea what fascination the light creature held for him. It formed a human shape, but it had no smell, no body. It did not stroke her, did not acknowledge her, did not even seem to see her, despite her numerous attempts to get its attention. Her strange little human also called it Maddie. She supposed his was a simple species, and she could not fault him for getting confused. She already had to do so much for him.

Whenever he went to visit the creature of light, in the Hidden Room of Bad Smells and Slippery Surfaces, she had to remind him of the dangers. Had she not taken it upon herself to block his view whenever possible, he might have fallen for the siren song of Light Maddie, mesmerized by its captivating realm of blinking light squares and the swirling not-wall. If she did not break its spell, he would spend too long staring at the light squares, and occasionally Light Maddie would convince him to summon forth the beings of death—ghosts, she remembered—from the not-wall. Worse still, her human sometimes gave himself over to the ghosts.

She could not always suppress her instincts to run when that happened, but she was getting better at being there for him, at reminding him that this was the real world, that his place was among the living, serving her.

She had some success snapping him out of the ghost state by knocking things off shelves, but it was far from reliable. She’d had to clear off an entire countertop of glassware once before he’d finally torn himself from Light Maddie’s seductive squares of flashing lights. He had yelled at her, but she’d known it was only Light Maddie’s terrible influence, and she’d borne it gravely.

Considering he’d given her an offering of fresh fish soon afterwards, she knew she had done well.

While Light Maddie tried to keep him in its little hidden room, busy with light patterns or funny little tools or, sometimes, creating more creatures that reeked of death, her human would always return to her in the end. If he were ever foolish enough to lock her out of the room and was deaf to her very vocal protests or the way she raked her claws against the sealed doorway, she would wait for his return on the bed she allowed him to share.

The bed was best in the daytime, of course, but she couldn’t make her human understand that. He never knew enough to sleep in the warmth of a sunbeam. For a species that barely had any hair, except in the oddest of places, he—like others of his kind—had very little survival instinct. She gave him as much of her coat as she could spare, rubbing on every available surface and sleeping on his false-furs so hers would cling to them and enhance their warmth.

His lip always curled at this—she suspected it was a variation of what all humans did when they were happy—and he would use his death magic to try to return her hair to her. He did not seem to understand that she could not take it back once it was given, and all too often the hair was left on the floor for others to clean up.

Really, he didn’t seem to appreciate everything she did for him. She guarded him while he slept, and more than once she’d had to fend off the creatures beneath the blankets. Far though they were from his face, she was not fooled by their tactics; she knew their dangers and reacted accordingly. He would often wake with a cry of pain whenever she was fortunate enough to strike their flesh, and she knew the creatures must have attacked him as they recoiled from her. They had not yet given up. She needed to be vigilant.

Of course, she also had to wake him each day before his sleep became a sleep of death. Dropping things did not always work here, even when she carefully knocked something onto his head—usually one of her toy mice, being easy to transport and hard enough for him to notice when it fell, though she favoured the string of the feathered ball as well. Given the lack of reliability, however, it was often necessary to go right next to his face to check that he was still breathing. On occasion, she would realize that his head was too exposed, too cold, and would grace him with her body heat by curling up on top of him. This proved to be the most effective method for waking him, but he was distinctly ungrateful every time she did so, and he had not yet realized her stony silence in response to his sharp words meant that she did not find it an acceptable way of interacting.

It was a price she had to pay, however. Her intelligence came with patience, and he had already shown that he was willing to learn and adapt to her ways. He’d only had the gall to feed her tasteless, dry kibble once; after she’d regurgitated it over his regular eating spot while he’d been away, he’d learned his lesson. It had been no different when he—or, rather, the ghost to whom he had given the task—had failed to renew her litter box. She required it to be fresh. When it had not been, she’d made a point of relieving herself in his shoes when he’d been away. He had since learned not to leave such imbeciles to care for her needs.

Now, they had fallen into a routine. After she woke him, he would wrap himself in his false-furs and talk to her about his plans. He always had plans. They never seemed to work out, as he never planned for her involvement. She had tried to show him this oversight when they played with the ivory figures on the two-coloured board, swatting at more than her fair share whenever he became overeager, trying to encroach on her territory with his little black figures. He merely laughed, stroking her and calling her little pet names. She always purred to show her pleasure—she must reward his good behaviour—but she resolved to find another way to get this message across to him.

The few times mice had dared to invade her home, she had killed them and brought them to him to show off her prowess. He had acknowledged her skill in that but never sought to expand upon it. Of course, he had also disposed of the mice without feasting on even the choice parts, so she knew he had a lot to learn.

He was getting better, however. He had made a point of presenting her with offerings of food in person in the mornings. If he dallied, enticed by Light Maddie and the temptations of the hidden room, she would increase the frequency and volume of her meows. In this way, he would understand the urgency of the situation, and she was often able to save him from Light Maddie for a little longer.

The detailing of his plans continued at this point—she suspected he thought she may bless them if he appeased her—and, all too often, one of the ghosts interrupted them. Sometimes, her presence was not enough to keep her human grounded in the living world, and he was overtaken by the death state and drawn away. There was nothing she could do for him when it came to this, and it was often when she would sleep. To be fair, he would still leave her even when he was not coerced by Light Maddie or the ghosts, but she knew that very few humans did not face the outside world each day to toil; it was out there that they sought to find and retrieve the offerings they gave to their watchers, and her human was no different in that respect.

Other animals of lesser intelligence—she would never forget the day she had met the horrid ghost dog—may think they had been abandoned, but she knew better. Her human relished her presence too much to leave her. Even if he came to his senses and decided to flee from this place, he would take her with him. It was not that he feared her displeasure; it was that he loved her. She knew that in every stroke, every coo, every murmured bit of praise. She was his Maddie. She allowed him to think of her as a partner, subservient though he truly was, and he recognized the honour she bestowed upon him. She would not sit on just anyone’s lap, after all, particularly if they carried with them that peculiar scent of death, decay, and danger.

In his absence, she would do what she could. This involved defending her home from everything from spiders to uninvited ghosts, but most of those ghosts were afraid of her now. The blue box-stealer in particular knew her wrath. Too many times, in his eagerness to abscond with her favourite play box or bed or even litter box, he had not been fast enough to evade her claws, and now a warning hiss was all it took to deter him. (The hiss was especially effective when he could not see her, expertly hidden among the shelves as she could be; she suspected he was the one who had spread the word that she had powers they had not yet uncovered, powers akin to theirs or that exceeded theirs. She approved. Their terror was right and true, and the infernal vulture ghosts have not disturbed her since the whispers began.)

Upon her discovery of the plant ghost, she resolved to test the plants in her home regularly. Her human was unimpressed whenever he caught her nibbling on a fern or three; he acted as though she did not know which plants were deadly and which were not, and as if the threat of the plant ghost was not real. If he would not seal away Light Maddie and close off the not-wall forever, she had to do what she could to preserve the integrity of her home. She did not wish to be caught unawares.

She had been particularly disturbed the day she had come upon her human trying to create more death beings with ties to the living world. She could not ignore the reek of wrongness that permeated her home when the attempts at creation began, and she took her cue from her human. He did not truly care for his creations, so she would not allow them to touch her. She did not want them to get attached—or risk herself getting attached to them. It would be…harder to scorn them if she found herself caring for them. She had made that mistake once, with the girl. She would not do so again. Indeed, she had resolved to destroy her human’s experiments whenever he continued attempts to carry them out. They were unnatural and unsafe.

She knew how fond her human was of the other boy like him, and she’d long since decided she could tolerate him. It helped that one of the boy’s friends (she had seen them together and recognized the mix of scents) had once attempted to free her human from Light Maddie. Light Maddie had been suitably distracted by visions of the one her human called an oaf, an imbecile, a buffoon, and she had activated that one’s programming whenever possible. (It was only a matter of treading across the keys in a particular order, and she had seen the boy’s friend enter the sequence; it had not taken much experimentation to reliably replicate it while laying upon the keys or walking in front of the light squares to distract her human and remind him of her presence.) It had served her well until her human had called in another ghost to locate and remove what he believed to be a virus. She had not corrected him, nor had she informed him that further experimentation had allowed her to restore what he’d thought was offending programming.

Truthfully, she had hoped her human’s acquiescence to the death state would lessen when he began to more frequently involve the human girl in his work. She did not know of Light Maddie, the not-wall, or the secret room, but she was well aware of the strange objects that came from there, and she had no qualms about using them. The girl smelled too sharply of vengeance for her taste, but her human expressed his pride in the girl and her work, and she had allowed the girl to stroke her. Her touch was warm, strong, and her scent changed to a more honest one when she did so; being granted petting privileges helped the girl in her own struggles, and she one day hoped to extend the same privileges to the boy her human sought to coax into taking up residence with them.

She was unhappy that she saw the boy mostly when he was in a similar death state to her human, but she had seen how he fought to bring her human back from the brink, and that had won him her favour. Besides, he had remarked favourably upon her presence more than once. She suspected he was the reason her human had decided to worship her over others (though why any chose companionship with those dreadful dogs was beyond her; she simply could not understand the minds of some humans). However much the boy smelled of death dog slobber, he could not be beyond redemption.

Her favourite days were those when her human did not come home bleeding or burned, coupled with the rare times when he did not complain loudly about his own minions—be they among the living or the dead. No, she relished the times that he came home and started a fire, allowing her to relish the false sun’s warmth. As she waited for him in the gentle heat of the hearth, he would prepare her meal and serve it. She would eat her fill, and then she would take up residence on his lap, gently kneading and then settling down. They would rest together this way, and she could feel him relax as he stroked her or brushed her.

He was too tense, her human. It was getting harder for him to return from the death state each time, and she suspected he had not even noticed. It was why she didn’t wish him to continue with it, why she wanted him to end his association with Light Maddie. But she had not discovered a way to return the not-wall to the gaping hole that was its natural state, and the best she could do in the meantime was sabotage his experiments and give him her love.

When he was sufficiently comfortable, she would groom him. He was only as flexible as her in his death state, and she did not want to encourage that. His own tongue looked woefully inadequate for the task, so she would do what she could, even though she’d have to drink soon afterwards to rid herself of the lingering taste of death. (The taste of death was satisfying when the kill was her own, but it was unnerving to taste it on a living human.) He always seemed amused when she moved from licking her paws to licking his leg or, when he began scratching her behind the ears and under the chin, his fingers. She tried to regularly clean his face for him, but he never gave her enough time to do an adequate job. Too often, he would laugh and pull her away, though whether he set her back on his lap and continued doting on her or picked her up to show her another one of his inventions depended on the day.

Still, it was…nice, being with him.

He treated her well.

She was a reason for him to live, to focus on this life, in this world, even if her presence was not yet enough to stop him from returning to the death state.

She hoped he would give it up for her eventually, whether or not any of his plans worked out or his dreams came to fruition. Because they didn’t need anyone else; they could get by, just the two of them. She was happy. He could be, too, if he allowed it. She had no doubt about that. He smelled happy, in those rare moments when he forgot to worry and fret, to pine and plan.

He hadn’t learned, and she couldn’t make him understand, the one thing she knew so well.

The present was precious. It was easy to get lost in the past and forget the future, and it was easy to focus on the future and neglect building any bridges to that future in the present. Neither past nor future should be ignored, but neither should they be favoured over the present.

Her human had fallen into a pattern of sacrificing the present in an attempt to secure the future, but he had told her of his past failures in his certainty of future successes. She knew how many foiled attempts at achieving his dreams lay broken behind him. It was rare that he remembered he was often leaving his happiness behind, swallowed in greed and envy for what he did not have, and that was why she hoped her presence would ground him—and remind him of all he had now.

She would find a way to rescue him from this downward spiral soon enough, before his tenuous grip on reality failed completely and he gave himself over to the death state.

Until then, she would allow him to continue to serve her, to be reminded that he had a place in the living world, and she would enjoy his company as much as he enjoyed hers.

(see more fics | my phight phics)

[brodoroki]

blueoatmeal replied to your link “If I Only Had A Heart (Fanfic) - TV Tropes”

troper here: yeah that's p much how it works. almost all articles have pics; posters or covers when available. ex: the mha page has a cover from the manga on it. and since both the art and the fic are by you, the troper who put it together probably didn't see the need for a separate credit. That being said, you can certainly request that a link to ur tumblr be added to the image description, or request that they use a different image, or take the image down completely

yeah but im not the author of the fic lmao i just drew some fanart for it

[blueoatmeal]

Trial of a Timepiece Chapter One

Trial of a Timepiece

Danny uncovers an age-old injustice involving The Master of Time, but what chance do he and his friends have against the ghosts who hold Clockwork's leash? Fragments of the past, present, and future become pieces of evidence in the largest trial the Ghost Zone has ever seen.

Danny Phantom

rated T

Clockwork, Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, the Observants

AO3

FFnet

Here it is! I polished up the first chapter to post, and the rest will come once I’m finished revising. I’ve got all the plot down already, it’s just a matter of making everything nice.

@lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks @gabbypie64

[blueoatmeal]

Two fanfics posted!

Tranformers: Well That’s Not Ideal

AO3 and FFnet

Bladen (Brainstorm) is sent to the beach to relax and take a break from his work. He quickly finds a trail of blood leading to a stranded merperson.

mermaid&human AU, rated T for blood & injury

Brainstorm, Perceptor, Chromedome, Rewind

Danny Phantom: Time’s Up

AO3 and FFnet

Short sonnet about Clockwork. Originally written for a class.

Rated Gen/K

[blueoatmeal]

Doodles that I certainly would not have posted if @glitterhobo hadn’t insisted

[blueoatmeal]

Next to Godliness: A Cleaning Mix!!!

YouTube.....8tracks.....Playmoss

[blueoatmeal]

8tracks.....YouTube.....Playmoss

Science Gone Too Far, a Brainstorm mix

Upbeat, sciency as hell, and maybe just a little bit desperate.

[blueoatmeal]

duck dream

I had a wild dream last night. About Gladstone Gander. It was complicated and it had a PLOT. An actual plot. like I could actually turn this into a legit written story pretty easily but I don’t feel like it so I’m just gonna say what happened here:

So this fairy or fairy-ish Being was gonna attack and destroy this English-looking town Gladstone was in for some reason and he didn’t care much for the town particularly but he sure didn’t want to just die like that

so he tried to appease the Being and luckily was able to find things she likes around town (certain food and trinkets?) and he was very polite and all but obviously very nervous. one of the things he offered was a bowl of seeds or something and my dream brain was like Oh Yes the Being would like to count these. idk if that fits with actual mythology but whatever

She was amused enough to stop and talk and they wound up striking a bargain/wager/agreement where if Gladstone was able to successfully perform three feats (well basically just do three things I mean he’s not Hercules. they’re more like tasks really), she’d leave the town and him alone. if not, he’d die first, then the town if she still felt like it

also sidenote but the townsfolk didn’t particularly care for Gladstone either, but when they saw how he was handling things and the fact that he explicitly included the town’s safety in his bargain made them start to rethink like Hey maybe he’s Not 100% An Insufferable Jerk

Also the Being wasn’t alone, she had these other fae-type beings with her; her squad basically, but they were totally letting her lead, like this was Her outing today and She was in charge

so if I remember right the first feat was finding some valuable/odd thing and with Gladstone’s luck of course he found the thing in short order

second one was, and this one’s blurry in my head but I think it was trickier like the Being was like shoot ok gotta step up my game on this one so she presented it in a more riddle-y way and it was a play on words, something about things being able to fit on the top of a needle

Gladstone was more or less stumped until some locals took him aside and were like Uh she’s probably talking about Lady Needal’s house on the edge of town. (the Being didn’t say he couldn’t get help with the feats so it’s fine)

So he unwound the riddle with help from the townsfolk and figured out that they had to get everyone in town to fit on Lady Needal’s roof. Which was possible, but took some doing. Lady Needal, who’s like 95, was thrilled at all the excitement and very proud to say that she’d kept her house in fantastic shape, so this should probably be mostly fine. Everyone pitched in and grabbed a kid or helped up the elderly or disabled and they all got up there.

The Being had a good laugh at seeing a whole town’s worth of people piled up on the roof of a small house and waved her hand, saying that the task was fulfilled. everyone got down.

The last feat was a test of physical ability. A race. Against the Being. That Gladstone had to win to fulfill. 

Gladstone was notably anxious but assured himself that his luck would get him through. 

The Being and her squad conjured this beautiful obstacle course thing that’s like a mixture of different games/sports’ equipment and just a whole bunch of hurdles for some reason. It was all made of ethereal, slightly translucent, glowing...wood. And other plant matter.

One of the townsfolk elbowed Gladstone and asked, “Hey what if they cheat? They’re making that stuff; they could rig it.” And Gladstone was like “OH my gosh for the sake of all our lives DO NOT let them hear you say that. And no, they won’t.”

So my brain gets blurry again here but citing “fairness” (but really just for kicks), the Being took her most corporeal mortal-shaped form and she was still horrifyingly gorgeous but more or less the same size as Gladstone. Gladstone took his hat and jacket off and rolled up his sleeves.

They ran the course and through bits of luck and sheer will, Gladstone was able to keep pace with the Being. For example, the Being was distracted by her squadmates cheering her on and did a portion of the course backwards just to show off, and was slower as a result. One of the other beings’ concentration slipped, and a bar that Gladstone was about to trip over blinked out of existence for a second and he made it through that part just fine. Fair’s fair, and they continued the course. 

At the last obstacle, the Being pulled ahead and they both leaped over the high jump bar. The Being’s feet landed on the ground first, and Gladstone landed a second later in a roll that ended with him sprawled on the ground, panting.

The Being returned to her former form and danced around gleefully with her squad. The townspeople murmured and looked at each other sadly and helped Gladstone up.

The Being stopped, smiling brightly. In fact, her whole self looked more vibrant than it did before. She stood up tall and smug and announced that she’d had a lot of fun and that she’d decided to spare the town.

The townsfolk cheered and thanked Gladstone and the Being enthusiastically. Gladstone was like “Right, Thanks yeah you’re welcome but ah, I know how the fae work and I’m still... Can I have my jacket and hat back please? Thank you.”

He put on his jacket and hat and straightened himself up while the others were still caught up in the excitement. It was hard to tell whether his shaking was from muscle fatigue or fear. Or both.

He stood stock still, waiting for the Being to take notice. She was laughing with one of her group when she did, and she stopped and settled into a more somber state. He squad followed suit, standing calmly behind her. “You remember our agreement?” she asked.

“I do,” Gladstone replied, voice tight.

“Then perish.”

Gladstone shut his eyes and flinched. 

Nothing happened. 

The Being started laughing hysterically. Gladstone opened his eyes.

Between fits of laughter, the Being explained that all she said in the agreement was that he would die before the town did. She wasn’t going to kill him. Her entourage laughed raucously.

Gladstone exhaled and his legs gave out. One of the townspeople caught him. His hat fell forward over his face as he scrubbed his hand over his eyes and through his hair. He collected himself and stood, breathlessly thanking the concerned townsperson.

The Being and her squad left in a haze of fog, light, and laughter.

The townsfolk were eager to show Gladstone their thanks; while it seemed like the fae ultimately just wanted to mess with them (maybe?), they appreciated Gladstone’s handling of the situation and willingness to take the brunt of it for them. Besides, they reasoned, the fae could easily have become bored and simply destroyed them all on a whim if he hadn’t taken charge.

Gladstone expressed his gratitude and accepted their thanks and insisted that he had to leave. 

He drove off with most of the town out to wave goodbye to him.

At a stop later, he found all kinds of baked goods and homemade canned foods stuffed under a soft handmade quilt in the trunk of his car.

He sighed and chuckled. He changed his plans for the evening. 

He’d drive to where Donald and the rest of the family were staying. He’d tell them that he lost a race and was given all this stuff as a reward. Donald would just love that.

[blueoatmeal]

8tracks.....YouTube.....Playmoss

Lucky Like Me, a Gladstone Gander mix.

Cover art by @modmad, used with permission.