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angelic-ish-phantom · 2 years

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Eyes

Clockwork, as he most often went by, was very particular about some things.

For example, he’d once decided he’d wanted a child.

Not two children, one.

The issue of the matter is, fae have children in pairs: twins.

If they had the power, they would rend and mould a doll, a copy of some mortal child, all weight and wood, fit for reality. They would take this child to be and slip them in some other’s place to be raised and fed and loved, until they were real enough to return.

And while they waited for the child to find their way home, the parent or caretakers would raise the human child. Would teach them and love them as they lived and breathed Underhill. Until the Infinite Realms was them down to their core, as fae as anyone.

Clockwork could have done this too. He was more than powerful enough to create a child of his own, but he’d had his heart set. One child and only one.

And while it wasn’t uncommon for fae parents to end up keeping only one child, either because the constructed one wasn’t cared for enough and turned back to dead-wood, or because they didn’t care for fae and families they had never known, he couldn’t risk that.

For, Clockwork may have been a fae renowned, respected, even beloved by some, but he had been sworn to servitude; his name was known and used in one of the worst ways. The very order that had offered it to him—given him his power—used it against him.

The Observants claimed him more surely than any parent claimed their child. They claimed his gifts, they claimed his works, and Clockwork could see, they may even have claimed his children.

Clockwork had considered winning a child, taking only the one through some bargain made. But the issue still stood; even if his connection to the child was so loose as that.

But surely, they could not claim his son, not if Clockwork himself only had half of the boy. If they did not have the whole child, they did not have the child. It was as simple as that.

What power was half a name? What use was half a body? Half done was what Clockwork’s child would appear to be.

It might have been impossible, but he was powerful, and he would make it work.

So once, Clockwork decided he wanted a child. And once, the Ancient decided he would make that child.

So when enough eyes turned from him, when the timeline exploded with events extreme enough to hide something so monumental as his child’s conception, He carved the finest wood, down and down. He was meticulous, capturing a thousand perfections in the moments he didn’t let happen. He grew and shaped ferns atop the doll’s head, painting them a charcoal that had the consistency of silk. He filled the boy-to-be with beautiful things; wonder, love, a beating heart. Clockwork gave the thing that would be his child everything he had to offer, and soon that child began to breathe.

Clockwork bent down, and whispered a name into the baby’s ear, a name that only he would know, that he would keep, until the child could carry it alone.

This was how it went. He’d given the child his name. He’d carved the child a body and given it enough magic to live on its own for a time.

All that should have been left was, replacing the baby with it so it could grow into a life.

Instead, Clockwork cut out the doll’s wooden eyes, and in the place of one, slipped in an eye of white marble, and blue glass.

The other socket remained empty.

Only then did Clockwork let himself slip into the Fenton’s home.

The house was warded, but only enough to stop the weakest of sprites, only enough to make it discomforting to look into. Hardly a defense, but it would hopefully be enough to dissuade those that might hurt his son.

And there he was. Sleeping soundly in a crib was his boy.

And Clockwork whispered in the infant’s ear, the same name he had given the doll. The baby shook in his sleep, as though something vital had shifted everything inside him into a new position. The same name, the same power, the same person.

But of course, if that was all there was to it, surely more fae parents would have done the same.

No, he was not done.

Clockwork reached for Daniel, as they would call him, caressing his cheek, tracing his eye socket through too-human skin, and finally reaching in to painlessly take the eye.

And he put the bleeding, twitching thing in the doll’s remaining socket. Then he produced the other glass eye, slipping it in the place of the one he had taken from Daniel.

Not taken, he thought to himself. Just moved somewhere else.

And then Clockwork spoke his son’s true name in two halves. The first half the the baby in the crib. The second half to the doll in his arms.

And both bodies shifted, rousing. Four eyes simultaneously shifted over Clockwork in curiosity, but Daniel didn’t cry when woken by this stranger in the dark of night. No, he sighed and burbled, turning both his bodies, feeding on Clockwork’s magic and affections as the fae lingered.

The child did not seem the least bit bothered by his new appendages, hearts beating in sync, lungs expanding at the same rate. Two bodies, one child, one mind.

“Mine.” Clockwork breathed at his success. He exchanged the body in the crib, for the body in his arms. “My boy…” he claimed as he held Daniel’s human body.

And as Daniel settled in his arms while Daniel settled in the crib, Clockwork returned to his domain.

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angelic-ish-phantom · 2 years

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Hope

The Ancient of Hope, they called her. Daughter of Ancients, they sang. World cleaver, they praised.

For she was made by all the Ancients of that time. She was made from their best parts, all gifted and a gift for all.

She would be called Pandora.

She saw the evils of the world, the dangers that would spread to weaker places, and she trapped them. She saw the way the veil between worlds, thinned in places, and she passed between worlds freely doing her duty.

She was a protector, a warrior, a guardian.

And she found herself settling in an fascinating space, a place of cults and magic, one of the thinnest spots the human realm had at the time. Nafplio, Hellens. It would be called Greece.

She learned their customs, and their language, and continued to every time she returned. And with each new appearance came new tales.

Her name had not yet been Pandora; so they had given her a hundred epithets, a hundred tales, and she would not have been able to tell you which were hers.

She came with her box, and she travelled far and wide, and she trapped every too-harsh thing in the world away. And every time she returned, she’d rest, and learn, and see.

She’d live. She’d love. But she was not always loved in turn.

Greece was not kind to women then.

They saw the warrior and thought her monstrous. They saw her lure their own into a realm of death, a temptress of Greek fire. They heard her stories and saw her box and thought, ‘she must have been made to punish us.’

They heard her admirers whisper of hope. ‘She must be evil’, they thought. A wild thing conjured to let loose evils upon them. ‘But humanity will alway have hope.’ They told themselves, slandering her name, and using her as a tool for their bigotry.

Still, Pandora locked away their evils, and smothered her ire, taking away deserving humans to spend their lives in paradise forever. A place that would keep the best of that culture. A place that would be a meeting place for humans and ghosts, until humans outside of the realm forgot it. A place they would call Elysium.

#fun lore stuff #like to headcanon that Pandora just has humans living in her realm #danny phantom #dp #fanfiction #fanfic #dp headcanons #danny phantom pandora #ectoberhaunt22 #eh order #hope #day 17

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angelic-ish-phantom · 2 years

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Okay but, you can’t tell me Danny would dress up as anything that wasn’t a ghost. And the most inaccurate, low effort ghost at that. He will just throw a blanket over his head. There was never any other option.

#this is a threat and a promise #danny phantom #dp #danny fenton #dp headcanons #ectoberhaunt22 #eh chaos #day 14 #costume party

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angelic-ish-phantom · 2 years

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Idea that Fentonworks is haunted. Danny is the one haunting it. After a point living under that roof, was familiar enough for his ghost-half to clock that this is where he lives. The house is like an extension of his body, which can be scathing considering all the anti-ghost stuff in the walls, but it also means he can feel what room someone’s in, and make the lights flicker, and shake the floorboards.

#could do some fun imagery stuff with that #he just is the house a little bit #danny phantom #dp #danny fenton #dp headcanons #dp au #danny phantom au #prompt #ectoberhaunt22 #eh order #day 14 #haunted house

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angelic-ish-phantom · 2 years

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Restored/Abandoned

Ancients had followings once.

Massive, sprawling networks ever in their service. They cared little for things in the long run, but that is not to say they didn’t acknowledge their followers power, their devotion, their borderline obsession.

Some watched over their believers, sometime to keep them from harm, sometimes just to know them. Some picked favorites and kept them close, even in death. Some granted desires at a whim, showering gifts upon those they deemed worthy. Some spoke to their believers, in person, or through that offered connection.

But Ancients had duties. They had realms and domains that could keep them blind to the worlds for a time that would only seem reasonable to something so long-lived.

And in that time, devotion would fade. Proof would die, and believers along with it. Their followings would splinter, their stories would grow warped, until not even their name was consistent.

They would cease to be known.

And while this did not effect them so massively, it was a shame.

It was a loss.

Now that you know of orders lost, I need you to think of a boy.

I need you to think of Danny Fenton, of Phantom, of a child who had people close to deities as role models, a strange sense of humor, and just enough spare time on his hands.

Think of a boy that would correct the broken versions of Pandora’s myth, of a boy that would hear of Father Time and rave about a clock tower of the most intricate build, a boy who would set down grudges and tell of dreams more wild than even Amity’s waking world.

And remember, this was Amity Park. This was a place mundanely haunted, a place known for it’s mystique. So, people heard, and they considered it. A few even believed it.

Cults already existed in Amity Park. It was not hard for more to form when it was Phantom egging on their conspiracy.

And the Ancients heard, and they might have ignored. But, that child was theirs as far ghosts cared, and he had given them believers.

So, much in the way a parent might stick a hideous crayon drawing up on their fridge, Pandora and Clockwork reached out to their new followings.

And like a curious sibling, Nocturne was just entertained enough to humor Danny.

Pandora gave protection for every offering delivered, talked into the minds of her zealots, and appeared to them as she pleased.

Clockwork chose prophets, gave prophecies and future sight without any comprehensible reason.

Nocturne spirited away resting minds, hiding them away in a deeper sleep, with more powerful, happier dreams.

And as simply as that, Amity knew Ancients, and they would not forget for a long time yet.

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angelic-ish-phantom · 2 years

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Cause of Death

Ghosts that died always remember their deaths in detail. Not as something sad, but as something real. This is why they exist; it doesn’t matter if it hurt, or if it was slow, or anything. All that matters is that it did happen and now they are here, given new life because of it.

The cause of their deaths always relate to their main power—a middle point between obsession and death. The things that make them, the reasons they exist.

This can make them more dangerous.

Ember is a singer that roars like the flames that consumed her.

Cujo is a dog made a monster, discarded because he could never be as fierce as something man made. Until he was.

Danny is a protector, lit up like a lab accident, electricity at his fingertips.

#I sure love pretending I’m not obscenely bad at keeping up with these #but legitimately art block is a bitch and it’s not even good art-#hnnnnnnnnn #danny phantom #dp #danny fenton #dp headcanons #digital art #fanart #phanart #ember mclain #danny phantom cujo #ectoberhaunt22 #eh chaos #day 12 #cause of death

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angelic-ish-phantom · 2 years

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Drown

Danny knows what his parents are. He’s seen things people don’t tend to see. He’s grown up around the arcane and unrealistic.

Doubting it’s reality was never something he did. Not the way his sister always tried to.

But then, Jazz had spent her early years in house, going to school and having friends, ignorant as the people they passed by. All Danny remembered was traveling.

Danny’s earliest memories were of the RV, of his parents doing government work.

That’s why Danny knew without a doubt, monsters were real. Every kind was strange and spectacular; Danny wouldn’t have minded the idea joining his parents professionally if what they did didn’t always end up so violent.

He thought of a writhing black thing, a cat with too many tongues and too many teeth, caught in a glowing green net.

He thought of seals strung up like butchers meat, skin pulling in places like a slow-falling coat.

He thought of a hydra’s fallen heads twitching, a harpoon thrust through their body.

Danny’s parents were hunters, and they hunted monsters.

This wasn’t something Danny was too-strongly opinionated about.

Sure, he didn’t like the way people would look at his parents like they were insane sometimes, and he always tried to avoid staying near the RV when things got messy. But, he got to see a lot of places. And he didn’t really feel like he was missing out on much, being homeschooled.

Really Danny’s life is good. Everything is fine.

Or at least, it was.

It was, before his parents took a boat out on sea, the shore still relatively close.

It was, before his parent caught some massive scaled thing that looked a little to human for him to be comfortable with, and he couldn’t go far as it’s screeches grew quiet, because they were on a boat.

It was, until Danny gone to the railing and focused on the waves, knowing from experience he wouldn’t throw up if rode out his nausea.

And then all of a sudden it wasn’t, because the boat was rocking, and Danny had tipped over the edge, and something much bigger than whatever his parents had caught was dragging him down, down, down.

If he didn’t panic, he might have lasted longer, but he thrashed and struggled and tried to swim up.

It was no use.

And the water filled his lungs. And the pressure filled his ears. And his throat burned as he tried to scream between each intake of water.

His eyes stung, both from the water and unshed tears, as his vision darkened.

He got one good look at the one that had pulled him down to this fate. A woman, he thought, with a salmon hide and green skin, and matted white hair.

“A child for a child.” She might have said, voice like venom.

Then everything went dark.

oOo

Danny dreamt.

He Dreamt of magic and moonlight making him new.

He dreamt of waking up, his eyes too round, taking in a world of darkness like it was made from light.

He dreamt of feeling every wave and fish around him through the twitch of whiskers.

And in that dream, he swims with flippers and tail, contorting through waters until he remembers the blinding shore. All blurry shapes and sand and sharp smells as he drags himself up.

And then he wakes up.

oOo

Danny will wake up and draw a too-far line of what were and weren’t dreams.

He will wake up and see himself shivering on the sands of a shore, his parents boat not too far in the distance, and he will think washed up on the beach after falling off the boat.

He will let himself think it was only an accident and will try to keep tears from his eyes as he thinks of drowning.

He will hug his coat comfort, only to realize he hadn’t been wearing one.

He throw the garment away from himself reflexively for its too-close resemblance to the seal skins his parents seemed so eager to destroy.

He will struggle to his feet, and try to stop turning back to see if the coat is still there, unharmed and safe.

He will receive help calling his parents back to shore, will face comfort and relief that soothes him.

He will think of how much more soothing the coat would be.

He will be wrapped up in the RV and be safe and tended to, inexplicably not sick, but he will still feel like there are a thousand grains of sand pricking his skin.

He will listen Jazz argue with their parents, unable to mediate or reassure, because all he can think of will be soft furs on a beach and a dream that felt too real.

He will wait until the dead of night, the day before they’re set to leave, and he will return to the beach.

He will dig for hours until he finds his coat.

He will feel hands running down his own skin as he gently dusts its furs clean.

He will see the spotted pattern ripple underneath his fingertips.

He will wear it and look to the sea and consider.

He will decide.

He will wrench himself away, and hide the coat so deep in his mess of clothes it’s suffocating, and try to never think of what happened to every seal his parents caught, to every cloak his parents found.

He will try not to remember dying.

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angelic-ish-phantom · 2 years

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Hunger

Ghosts need to eat.

And you’re brain’s probably went to a dark place immediately, but no. There’s nothing cannibalistic or depraved about it.

There are plants based on ectoplasm, animals that reform. The Ghost zone simply has food. And ghosts eat it to survive, just as humans do.

In addition, ghosts do not tend to eat in meals.

In the Terminal, that lawless place in the shadow of Pariah’s Keep, they scavenge. They eat frequently, and whatever they can get their hands on.

Whereas in Elysium, the major Greek kingdom, they host meals. Roughly every earth fortnight, they will hold a massive banquet and eat until every one of them is satiated.

In such a place as a kingdom of the ghost zone, none go hungry. It is a value most everybody shares.

Then there is Danny.

Danny who does not know any better, the Phantom who has been starving for so long he is used to it, the boy that eats nothing but the excess ectoplasm his parents make him clean out of the ecto-filtrator.

He knows nothing of food. Has never known anything expect his volatile core and finicky abilities.

oOo

And now that she took a step back and actually looked, Pandora could see. This child’s core was something erratic, as though he’d been consuming raw ectoplasm. And his aura was faint enough that he must have been eating little of that, still.

That- that couldn’t be healthy. Pandora was no expert on the limits of those so liminal as to be halflings, but he was still a child. Even in the Wastes ghosts did not come so unhealthy as this.

But then, if he was liminal, and of the human realm, it was no surprise he didn’t know any better. Had he even ever eaten real food.

She wondered how he had functioned this long, wondered if he even understood there was anything wrong. He was young enough that he could likely digest food most ghosts could not handle, but Pandora did not know how well that would let the child sustain himself, considering she didn’t make a habit of testing the limits of child-stomachs.

So she easily grabbed Daniel in one hand, ignoring his alarmed yelp.

“We need to take you to a doctor at once, little one!” She said, rushing him from the outskirts to the depths of Elysium, paying no mind to his protest.

And if the child became an honored guest at her feasts after that, no one was complaining.

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angelic-ish-phantom · 2 years

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Danny is half ghost.

Danny is half human.

And yet.

Ghosts will see him. They will see Danny Phantom.

Humans will see him. They will see Danny. They will see Fenton.

He perceived, fully by one, so why…

Why is he ghost enough for ghosts?

But not human enough for humans?

All ghosts see is the core whirring beneath his form. In the face of that, what is a beating heart, what are human sensibilities.

Who could care less what he does with half his time?

He’s one of them, unquestionably.

Even without a core, enough ectoplasm would still raise an argument; Skulker and YoungBlood will call the Red Huntress a ghost, and few will argue them on this.

Many of them have lived and died and knew better than to draw senseless lines.

Many of them have always been of their nature, and in the face of a thousand monsters, what is Danny but just another child, just another ghost, or just another monster at best.

Humans… humans that see difference and sneer, humans who had known Danny forever, an entire lifetime, yet care less for him than many of the ghosts that fight him regularly.

Add something unknown into that equation; someone could swear they saw glowing eyes, a ring of light, hair turned white.

They call him a freak to his face, and whisper creepy when he turns away.

And what if those who’d hate him for it, who in their ignorance and prejudice, would rather see him cut open, that think of the thinking, loving mind that rests behind neon-green eyes.

What is a beating heart worth if it beats a touch too slow?

What is flesh and bone if it can rend and shift into something foreign?

What can a human brain possibly be against the sure inherent cruelty, the evil, of what they don’t understand.

#didn’t want to post this until I got Purify done #ectoberhaunt22 #day 9 #Free day #danny phantom #dp #danny fenton #fanfiction #fanfic #phicc #dp headcanons

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angelic-ish-phantom · 2 years

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Purify

The first time Danny had accidentally flown through the Fenton Ghost catcher, he hadn’t exactly been able to dwell on it.

In his defense, he’d been so wrapped up in the increasingly stressful situation with Desiree and Tucker that he hadn’t really had time to think. He hadn’t realized he wasn’t able to think. He hadn’t realized he wasn’t.

So months later, when he’d been overwhelmed and tired and just wanted a break, he’d thought back on that distant experience and wondered. He’d wanted a solution. And he’d gotten one, but he hadn’t remembered. Had never truly processed how he’d been gone. Not when he’d so quickly received two sets of hazy memories from the too-few seconds he’d been split.

So Tucker had looked on curiously, and Sam had waited apprehensively, ever-skeptical.

And Danny had flown through the device without a second thought.

He didn’t have any thoughts after that.

oOo

When Phantom came apart from himself, he was overwhelmed, hyperaware of the sudden feeling of his core, burning alone like an icy star in the depths of his form.

He could feel his thoughts speeding by like some haunting melody, untethered by a human mind. He could feel his obsession weightless without the shackles of his human responsibilities.

His form felt so… flexible without the burden of human physicality. How had he never noticed how horribly solid he’d been.

“Wow…” he whispered, all sound where there should have been breath, like something out of a speaker.

And Phantom dragged neon bright eyes upon his other half, the human sprawled on the ground. When Danny had flown through, he’d managed to catch himself with flight, but his mirror (Fenton? Danny?) had eaten the floorboards.

“Sooo… Are you good, feeling okay? There nothing wrong with you- you two?” Sam asked, concerned glancing up at Phantom while shaking Danny’s shoulder.

Danny groaned. “I’m fine. Feel tired though.” He replied, muffled as he spoke into the floor. “Weird. But mos’ly tired.”

He slowly pushed himself to be propped on his elbows, then glanced around. Then Danny looked up.

And oh. Oh wow.

He stared in blue, only it was green. He could see his own green eyes glowing in Danny’s vision, shining back at him in infinitum.

Phantom hadn’t thought vertigo could feel so soothing. so reassuring.

It was reassuring in a much broader sense come to think of it. Phantom had… worried. When he’d been Danny, he’d thought using the Ghost catcher would split his ghost half from his human half.

Really it had split his ghost half and his human half. Phantom was Phantom, and his other half definitely wasn’t just Danny.

“Um.” Fenton stumbled, eyes wide, clearly having seen what he had. “Okay, Wow. Are- are you doin’ okay, man?” He asked.

“…Yeah, I think.” Phantom answered tentatively. Despite how he still kept his voice low, it rang clear; he had an uncomfortable feeling that if he spoke at a normal volume it would hurt the humans, that, that steady echo beneath his words would become something shrill as a scream.

He’d have to be careful about that.

“Is this like a duplicate or did you actually just,” Tucker paused to make an accompanying gesture, “pull out your ghost half.”

“There are two of us.” Phantom couldn’t resist a sewing cheekily.

“That answered nothing.” Sam deadpanned.

“He means we’re different people.” Fenton explained, also not clarifying.

Phantom grinned. They were changed; neither of them were the same person that had flown through that device. And Phantom couldn’t help his eager curiosity at what might become of this.

oOo

It had worked for a day, a trial run. And both Phantom and Fenton wanted to keep trying.

Sam and Tucker had tried to convince them to rejoin again before they left, and it had made sense. Neither of them had known what this long term separation might lead to.

But they didn’t.

Because it was an almost scary thought, the idea of becoming nothing more than parts of a whole, of loosing their senses of self to become someone they remembered being but could never truly be.

At least that’s why Phantom thought his other half had refused. They hadn’t really discussed it. No, what they were talking about was much more important.

“I’ve just been calling you Fenton in my head…”

Phantom sat, legs crossed on their (Fenton’s?) bed while his other half paced.

“But others have always called us Fenton, it was our- Danny’s name too.” Fenton argued, before groaning, “why can’t we just have had another easy, convenient name like Phantom lying around?” He flopped down onto the bed beside him.

“I mean, Phantom and was the name we, he?, used too.”

Fenton waved, “Yeah but, It wasn’t really Danny’s. Well, it was but- why I am tryna explain this, y’know what I mean!”

And Phantom nodded since he did. The idea behind the name ‘Phantom’ had always been an alter ego, another self, as much as it was, had been, Danny.

And Phantom was exactly that: Another self.

“What about Daniel?” He tried.

Fenton made a face which, okay fair, Phantom heard it as soon as it left his mouth. “Tha’s what the Fruitloop calls us. Absolutely not.”

“Yeah, sorry…” Phantom said, “Do you think staying like this for a while will make him loose interest?”

“With any luck. But God knows we don’t have any, so he’ll probably just try and stick us back together.”

“Ugh, he would… What about Neil?”

Fenton squinted questioning at him, “Where did you get ‘Neil’ from?”

“It’s the last half of our name. Like, Dan-Neil, you know? I think it sounds good.”

“It sounds like you changed the pronunciation of our name.”

Phantom pouted.

“…Neil. Ne-il. Neeeeil. Fine… I guess ’s doable.” Fent- Neil conceded. “But I’m only settling, because I don’t want to keep being mad at Sam and Tucker for calling me Danny when there’s literally no other option.”

“Settling!” Phantom cheers, before grinning wider than a human was probably supposed to be able to. “You know this means that between the two of us, I’m better at choosing names.”

Fenton’s expression grew flat. “What-“

oOo

Neil could never do what Phantom does.

He knows that he probably could, considering they were technically the same person, but it seemed so… extraordinary.

Neil was able to get Danny’s grades back up, with the work ethic of someone that had learned they what they were capable of if they only applied themselves, and actually had the time to apply himself. Neil was able to spend time with his friends and not have to drag them into fights to protect the town. Neil was able to take up hobbies, and catch up on sleep, and enjoy being warm again.

Neil could do all that, because that was normal, but what Phantom did? He flew throughout Amity day and day out, stronger and faster and brighter than ever. He kept everyone safe, and explored another world in his free-time. It’s not like their lives were totally separate from each other, but Neil held a new appreciation for all those things they’d once done together that he’d thought he’d barely managed.

Of course Danny had been struggling; he’d been a hero.

“Hey, you free?” A hero called from his window.

“Yeah, I’m just studying, man. What d’you need.” Neil replied, shutting his book.

He’d grown used to it by this point, but it was still weird, the way his voice tended come out in a drawl now, sometimes slurring. Everything just feels so heavy and sometimes it can feel so hard to think. It’s like his brain hasn’t realized he doesn’t have a core anymore and keeps sending thoughts the wrong way.

And the tiredness… The thing is Neil doesn’t actually think he’s tired. He’s just used to having so much more energy, the strength to fight ghosts and win. Now, he had to sleep for a full eight hours and he still feels… exhausted in comparison.

It wasn’t terrible. Especially considering how much easier everything had become, but he could still complain. Internally.

“I’ve been working on something I really want to show you.” Phantom said excitedly, quiet as ever. “It’s in the ghost zone though.”

Neil glanced out the window worriedly, “It’s gettin’ kinda late…”

“It’ll be quick, I promise. We’ll be there and back so fast, it’ll be like you never left.”

“I dunno…”

“Pleeeeeaaaaase. It’ll be worth it.”

Neil sighed, rubbing a slow hand down his face, “Fine.”

oOo

It was not fine.

Neil had forgotten he couldn’t fly on his own.

“I hate this! I hate you!” Neil yelled for the nth time as Phantom carried him in a way that had his body dangling over the void beneath them.

“You don’t mean that.” Phantom corrected incorrectly. “Its just around- here!” He exclaimed, the sound of static and screams making Neil’s ears ring for a moment.

“Sorry…” Phantom apologized immediately, “but look.” He gestures in front of them.

“…a door?” Neil asked incredulously, considering the amount of doors they must have passed on the way might have been uncountable.

“Our door.” He corrected, happily.

“…”

Phantom seemed to realize he wasn’t understanding. “The doors are lairs. I found out a lair is the place a ghost lives, basically. Like Skulker’s island. But inside out.” He explained, “And this is ours. Mine. Well it was Danny’s, but he never found it so I made it for us.”

And Neil tried to catch up with that, the idea that behind every door they’d ever seen there was something like a home. Then Phantom opened the door and put him down and he saw.

It was an entire world. Sprawling meadows and mist, and pines in the distance. Nebulas painting across a sky. It was incredible.

And a part of Neil wanted to be sad, because this place didn’t truly belong to him the way it once had. Then he looked at Phantom’s excitement, and couldn’t help but mirror it, because it had still been made for him.

The two of them ran and played, well past how long they should have stayed, and when Neil finally exhausted himself, slumping against a tree, Phantom and his endless energy sat down right beside him.

“’s probably so late.” Neil wheezed.

“But that was fun wasn’t it.” Phantom beamed.

Neil smiled softly even through his clear fatigue, “Yeah. It w’s great… this place is wonderful.” He mourned, again, that Danny had never found it.

“You’re wonderful.” Phantom shot back, delighted.

Neil snorted.

“I mean that you know.” Phantom continued, an happy-serious expression on his face, “You deserved a break. You’re always doing school stuff and acing it too. Not to mention you spend so much more time with Sam and Tucker, and they’re important.” He said, and Neil could remember the way their obsession would have flared, “The only thing I really have to do is get ghosts back in here. It’s not hard. Your stuff seems so much more complicated. I don’t think I could ever manage it. I don’t know how Danny ever did.”

Neil felt happiness swell at the appreciation, but… “‘s no accomplishment. I’m jus’ doing normal things.”

“Human things.”

“You literally protect Amity every day. You fight ghosts without any help. Tha’s a thousand times more impressive th’n getting our homework done.” Neil yawned back.

Phantom hummed dismissively as Neil leaned into them. “Agree to disagree… You can sleep. I’ll take you back tomorrow.”

Neil groaned, “I forgot we have t’do that again t’go back.” Then he squinted up at Phantom, “Do you even know when tomorrow is from in here?”

“Yep.” Phantom raised a phone.

“My phone!”

“My phone.”

“It not your turn. It’s still Friday, you have phone custody on the weekend. You can’t jus’ steal my phone!”

“Saturday is tomorrow and you weren’t even using it so, my phone.”

“I hate you.” Neil muttered darkly, way too tired to argue properly.

“Love you too.” He beamed, beginning to play on their phone. Considering Neil was fairly sure Phantom didn’t need to sleep, it would probably be dead come morning.

Neil sighed his annoyance before closing his eyes.

He could hear his own heartbeat like this. Ear to his other half’s form, it rang louder like the steady beat was trying to call back to the low thrum of Phantom’s core.

Neil knew that if they were Danny the two organs wouldn’t need to try and sync up like this, they work in tandem. It’s one of the small things Neil missed, but he thought he’d rather be together like this.

Both of them were happy. Neither of them were having a hard time of things. And Neil though he enjoyed Phantom’s company. He was like a brother, a twin, someone that knew him as well as he knew himself.

Neil didn’t think he would ever give up on having that. At least not forever.

#there was supposed to be a lot more but I’m so tired of working on this one #concept came first Ectober came second #I really wanted to get the one more scene done but I can’t figure out how it would go so I’ll probably finish it later. or not…#✨phone custody✨#the only way Danny was getting some self love was literally splitting himself in half #danny phantom #dp #danny fenton #fanfiction #Phantom&Neil #phicc #fanfic #danny phantom au #dpau #dp au #ectoberhaunt22 #eh order #day 7 #purify

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angelic-ish-phantom · 2 years

Text

Freeze

It was a strange thing, relearning a sensation.

Danny had known the cold in three ways.

He had known cold once, as any living being did. He had known the chill of winter, the numbing cool of ice. And in his narrow worldview, he thought he’d understood.

Then he had awoken to icy patterns crawling up his bedroom walls like cracks. He had felt a shiver wrack him through his bones, through his very core, and he had felt a bitter, biting, piercing pain that only his own ice could have cause him. He felt his skin frigid and numb and getting colder still. He felt his nature, something newly matured, threaten to freeze him from the inside out.

All he wanted was warmth, was relief, but anything that heated him caused a more tangible sort of pain. Even a blanket used too freely could bring about the makings of a burn while he was in that state.

All he wanted was to sit in the face of the freezer, to feel ice and wind on him, to let the cold numb him until the pain faded and it was just as soothing as his core told him it should be.

After a point, dazed and fighting and freezing, he didn’t think he’d mind just sinking into waist deep snow and letting it take him.

And then he did. And then he learned.

After the Far Frozen, after learning how to manage his ice, to utilize it, Danny knew cold as comfort.

It was so odd for something that had always meant some degree of discomfort, to suddenly feel so enriching.

The feeling of a frigid gust of cold air. A hand dipped into a mess of wet snow. They were now the ever-satisfying sensation of an itch Danny had never noticed being scratched away. A moment of bliss that no human, nor most ghosts would understand.

His awakened core also made warmer environments a few steps closer to unbearable, but Danny thought it was entire worth the feeling of freezing.

#he proccesses cold differently because of his core #and before it was NOT fun #but now it’s literally the best thing #he WILL just roll around in snow #danny phantom #dp #danny fenton #fanfiction #phicc #dp headcanons #fanfic #photo edit #ectoberhaunt22 #eh order #day 6 #freeze

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angelic-ish-phantom · 2 years

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Wraith

Wraith’s were not ghosts.

They were memories. They were what made ghosts.

An echo of something so powerful, so indescribable, as death, warping the space around into the shape of a thinking creature.

There are no studies for this. There are only loose anecdotes. But he and Maddie and Vlad had explored every avenue of ghostly study.

They were likely caused by violent death. And the one that could see them played some part in the death.

So when Jack saw the creature in his basement, saw glowing eyes watching from within his portal, he’d known what it was.

He couldn’t shoot it. He couldn’t communicate with it. He couldn’t prove its presence beyond a blip on a fine-tuned radar.

All he could do was watch it back.

Watch the blue-green pools swirling where eyes should be, it’s only discernible feature.

Watch the black-white fuzz that cover ever other inch of it—blank static.

He’d seen it the times it crept through the portal’s face, an air of fear, of apprehension.

It was a silent blur. A distraction.

Jack knew it had no bearing on him. It did not interfere with his work. It might as well not exist.

But Jack had to wonder sometimes, why he was the one it was visible to.

Their results must have been false, Jack thought not thinking of a switch misplaced on the inside of his life’s work. Their reports must have been inaccurate, he assured himself, not recognizing that the size and shape of this Wraith should have been so familiar to him.

And Jack shoved thoughts of the Wraith out of his mind, avoided meeting its bright eyes.

Pretended that he didn’t sometimes catch the creature, mouth open and eyes ever-widening as it spasmed—a silent image. Pretended he didn’t hear the echo-scream loud as the thoughts in his head.

(What could have died so horribly, where they would come to build their portal…)

#Jack is a little clueless sadge :T #You’d think when a distinctly son-shaped wraith appears in his basement and he has all the pieces of the puzzle he might try put it together #danny phantom #dp #jack fenton #fanfiction #phicc #fanfic #danny phantom au #ectoberhaunt22 #eh chaos #day 5 #wraith #didn’t really come out how I wanted it to but good enough

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angelic-ish-phantom · 2 years

Text

Staff

Danny leaned on Sam’s shoulder, hiding his face in her neck as he dozed.

They were in the cafeteria, and Danny understood that he probably wasn’t helping quell the rumor that they were dating.

Tucker, sat on his other side, chattering to them as he absentmindedly fiddled with his PDA, one hand in Danny’s.

He knew he’d been clingy lately, but the fact his friends didn’t mind the affection made him feel a lot better about it.

(Ghosts didn’t have friends.)

Danny shuddered at the memory of red that flit through his vision.

That had thankfully been happening less. It didn’t seem to be anything he could actively prevent, so he was just doing his best to move on, to forget the orders that had played on loop in his head for days.

He was currently more focused on stopping the involuntary flinches, and the three days of sleep he’d missed.

Thankfully, he didn’t need as much sleep due to his ghost half, but he still had to keep up with the ghost attacks that had happened at night since so catching up on sleep was not the most straightforward task. He’d been trying to catch naps between classes, which helped him pay more attention during them, but he really wished he could just take a day off from school and defending Amity Park to rest.

Sam and Tucker had already suggested he do exactly that, but he’d already missed a whole two days of school that week. He could wait a until the weekend. Even if he felt terrible.

He was lucky the school hadn’t reported his absences to his parents. Or his parents had missed those calls; that was probably the more likely option.

They’d been more wrapped up in their work lately, which was fair considering there had been an entire circus (stopthinkingaboutit stopthinkingaboutit-) of ghosts in Amity. They’d been a lot better about not obsessing that badly since the portal started working, but they still had their moments.

Moments that could lead to his absence not being noticed. Danny had a curfew and he tended to adhere to it, but his parents seldom caught him breaking it, considering more often than not if he was staying out that late, he wasn’t coming home that day. And if they didn’t hear him come back, his parents tended to think he was in his room. Or at least somewhere in the house.

This worked in his favor when he left to fight ghosts while they were busy; he could just faze in and out of his room. The system worked. The whole Freakshow incident had made him start to wonder how okay it was they didn’t always notice when he disappeared…

But, like all things related to that incident Danny was doing his damndest not to think about it!

Jazz tended to notice if he was out of the house though. Almost always. It was annoying.

Or it had been… Lately she’d been noticing a lot less. When he’d gone back home after he and the other ghosts had been freed from the staff (youareaghostyouhavenofriendsobeyobeyobey-), despite really wanting to stay with Sam until he could get the red tinged image of her falling to her death out of his mind, Jazz had looked at him concerned, but knowing. She had told him to tell her if he was going to spend the night at his friends’. This meant he didn’t have to make up an excuse, but it was out of character for her to just write off him being gone for so long…

Point was: his parents didn’t notice, his sister hadn’t realized, and his school didn’t ask! So he was fine to just pretend nothing had happened.

The flinching on the other hand… Danny had been walking a fine line of trying to keep from cowering whenever someone came too close, and trying not think about why that impulse had grown in the first place.

It was shaping up to be a general rule for everything that had happened in that place: just don’t think about it.

So Danny tried to focus on his friends, the light drone of their voices, on the fact they were there and that was enough to make his core thrum pleasantly beneath his skin.

In this sleepy state, he almost wished he could be closer to them. Before everything, he might have thought overshadowing would achieve that. Now though…

The thought of overshadowing anyone, of controlling them, sounded depraved. He wouldn’t, never again.

It was a ridiculous thought; he knew that logically. Overshadowing was different. It was taking a persons consciousness and

pushing it down, gently locking them away in a comfortable little box as you puppeteer a body. They’d have no memory of the event at all.

(There was no slimy red guiding your thoughts and clouding your head with pain. No crimson fire behind crystal, biting into your eyes, your skin, your very core.)

The overshadowed persons mind wasn't

even touched during the process.

Unless you counted the foreign

muscle memory the ghost would have, or the fleeting thoughts left behind like an echo for the overshadowed party to pick up on when their body was their own again.

It was supposed to be like being asleep.

(Danny had been painfully, horribly awake while under the staff's control.)

The bell rang, startling Danny out of his own head as he blinking blearily. Sam shrugged, trying to shake him awake, and Tucker moved away.

Danny sighed as he complied, mourning that quiet moment. (It was the closest thing to contentment he could get with the resonance of red still in his head.)

Danny got up, looking at his friends a smile came almost easily. And he tried not to think about it.

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angelic-ish-phantom · 2 years

Text

Order

Day 3

If Danny had to describe his ghost half in a word, it would be hungry.

Not in any familiar way; there was nothing painful about it, no clawing feeling in his stomach.

There was only craving.

Ever since he’d seen those first ectopi come through the portal, he had felt that deep seated need, that urgency.

To consume.

It felt strange and a little too inaccurate to call it an instinct. It was so much less complicated, foreign…

Trying to describe it in human terms made feel confused. Thinking about it with his human mind made him feel nauseous. He’d much rather just stew in his core as it whirred intricately, whispering impulses into his very ectoplasm.

Danny understood that his core worked like a second mind, intimately so. But is wasn’t a brain… wasn’t human. It was such a foreign way to think, if you could even call it that.

But Danny had the compulsions that came with it under control. Really he did! Sure, he still reflexively bit the odd monster in a fight, and couldn’t help drinking in emotions when he was particularly drained, but it was fine! He could ignore it. It wasn’t a problem.

At least it hadn’t been until Lunch Lady. Not until the first ghost that was a person came through the portal and Danny was just as hungry as he’d ever been.

oOo

“It’s really not as bad as I’m making it sound!” Danny groaned into his hands. This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to tell his friends; it was hard to put into words that didn’t make it sound sick.

Sam’s eyes narrowed, “Isn’t it? Danny, wanting to… eat the ghosts your fighting doesn’t sound bad to you?”

“Sounds like it’s just another mostly harmless ghost thing. I mean, you’re all made out of ectoplasm, right? So you need more ectoplasm to ‘live’? As established, other ghosts just happen to be a source of that.” Tucker suggested, trying to rationalize his hunger. “All ghosts have cannibalistic tendencies confirmed.” He joked, but Danny could (taste) see he was unnerved.

“But Danny doesn’t need to eat ectoplasm to live.” Sam said, before whirling on Danny, concern under her alarm, “You don’t do you?”

“…I don’t need to, no.” Danny surrendered. “It’s nice though. Not that I would eat a person for it. That’s not why I would want to at least. It’s not- it wouldn’t be for ectoplasm energy. It’s just- guys I swear, this isn’t a bad thing!”

“…You know those monster and animal ghosts have to eat you before. I just thought they were doing what they do, but this could be the reason. But I don’t think any of the ghosts that talk have ever tried that.” Tucker said, shaking off his unease at Danny’s prior words.

He was wrong. Technus had definitely tried to. And Lunch Lady. Box ghost made a pitiful attempt to every time he was alone. Even Spectra had made to, but she’d seemed almost repulsed.

“Probably because they wouldn’t eat another person!” Sam explained, as though it were obvious.

Danny thought they would. If they were feeling what he’d felt, they only wouldn’t eat him if he was too big.

And Danny wondered, what if there was a ghost big enough to try and eat him, and win?

(That should have been a more worrying thought than it was…)

What about the reverse; what about a ghost small enough that eating it wouldn’t be a challenge for him.

Not that he ever would.

oOo

Danny really hadn’t meant to do it.

He’d thought he’d had a pretty good handle on the whole urge to consume any ghost in front of him.

But just he’d been so tired. He hadn’t known the time exactly, just that it was dark, and he’d been operating on so little sleep even before he’d had to take care of the beastly looking ghost that had crawled out of a natural portal in the dead of the night.

And after shooting a quick text to his friends, telling them he’d come out of the fight in one piece, he’d come back to his room.

And glowing softly in center of his bed, was a blob ghost.

Danny had seen blob ghosts before—massive, shapeless, wailing things. But this one was different. It was like the round, ones he glimpsed crawling through the shadows of Skulker’s island, and slipping in and out of the walls of Pointdexter’s lair.

He’d never seen one on the side of the portal before.

Danny looked down at it, a bit suspicious. It appeared to be harmless, but it was also a ghost. One that had been in his room while he wasn’t there.

The thing tilted it’s head curiously as though inspecting him back. Well, not it’s head considering it didn’t really have one; the entire front part of his body shifted, it’s eye spots wide and empty.

Danny couldn’t help but find it cute. Still he raised the thermos and-

The blob ghost flopped over as though in submission, core thrumming a low pitch that made that ever present hunger Danny felt rise to the forefront.

Danny bit his tongue, stepping back a bit. What was it doing, did it want him to- to-

He couldn’t stop himself from lowering the thermos, from locking his eyes on the blob and practically prowling across the space between them.

What was he doing? The thought almost stopped him, but it was too fleeting. Too irrelevant in the face of the ghost’s dull glow.

Danny needed it. Need the strength it could give him, however small. He needed the knowledge. The completeness that would surely come with consuming it, making it an extension of himself.

It trilled as he got closer still, soft approval.

It was so tiny. So weak. It needed him. It needed to be bigger, to be part of him. That way he could protect it.

That thought ran through his obsession in all the right spots. Danny shivered as his human mind expressed the utmost repulsion. Danny licked his ectoplasm-green tongue over ghostly fangs.

Danny opened his mouth.

oOo

For the record, Danny had been going to tell his friends what had happened that night, what he’d done. Really he had been!

But then he’d thought of how exactly he would say that. How would he even broach the topic? Just drop in at lunch and go, ‘Oh hey guys! remember how I was obsessively considering cannibalizing my enemies. Well I tried it out and now I think I’m not gonna stop-‘?

Yeah, no.

He couldn’t stand the thought of how Sam might look at him. At how even Tucker had been unnerved at the idea of his unconventional appetite before he had given in to it. They’d put up with his his weird half-ghost things before, had stuck with him this long, but… this felt like a lot.

Danny didn’t want them to see him, the way his parents saw Phantom.

He knew he was being paranoid. Probably. Especially considering ‘eating’ definitely wasn’t the right word for what he’d done.

Danny distractedly watched the blob ghost loop through his legs amiably.

It had kind of just fazed back out of him in the morning. Or rather Danny had fazed it out of him.

He had taken hold of its body and suddenly extremely susceptible, suggestible mind and had just made it move.

He could let go, and the blob didn’t seem to mind when he did it… it seemed to enjoy it actually.

It was safe and taken care of. Danny could take care of it. It could help Danny, and Danny could help it. It was mutually beneficial and perfectly fine. Danny would tell his friends exactly how fine it was.

Eventually.

oOo

The thing is, the blob ghost could ask Danny for help in a roundabout way. It could need help and Danny would understand.

So when another ghost had been chasing it around dusk, and Danny had already been transformed from an earlier fight, he had swept in to save it.

And as Danny fought the ghost, an odd wolf like animal with snakes instead of a tail, the blob had gotten some very tempting urges. It had actively pushed its thoughts onto Danny. It had told him to eat, to expand his self. To be stronger so he could protect it, to make it so this other ghost wasn’t so mindless and wouldn’t do any more damage.

And Danny would have been able to ignore the hunger as he always did if it weren’t for the argument proposed, if there wasn’t another smaller mind assuring him, wanting him to take and never stop.

And Danny gave in.

oOo

Ghosts that look like monsters out of some mythology are hard to hide. Even with their forms shrunken slightly, even when Danny willed them invisible most of the time, someone was bound to realize there was a ghost lurking around Amity Park that he hadn’t gotten rid of.

Or well, ghosts.

Which brought Danny to his second issue. When a ghost had already ‘eaten’ other ghosts, and that ghost then too gets eaten, it turns out it makes a chain of command.

First was Danny. Then his blob and the wolf ghost. Then the wolf ghost’s ghosts. And then their blob ghosts.

The control Danny had over them wasn’t overwhelming. They were like limbs with their own minds; Danny could move them as he pleased, but they had their own independence and took comfort in this relationship.

They were much less noticeable that an entire extra arm though. More like a big toe. Toes with toes. Something he could move, and could always feel was there. He would notice if they were missing, but he didn’t always notice they were there.

That made sense. It made enough sense for him to be comfortable thinking about it like a human.

Danny was constantly aware of this order, but was also content to just let them roam with little interference. The odd nudge away from people here, turning one invisible there, using one to handle a smaller ghost fight while he’s in school.

It was useful. It was nice.

Sure it was strange to get used to have so many senses, and the range of emotions they were all feeling at any time was complicated to say the least.

His first blob was a lot more smug lately, about being so high in the order, about being so close to Danny, above ghosts many times stronger than it. Many of the others were content to laze around and explore the living world, bathing in the feeling of being protected. Others kept spooking humans for fun, and causing quiet mischief which was harmless enough that Danny didn’t often stop it.

Being so connected to them all made him feel complete. He couldn’t imagine anything more satisfying, satiating that this.

oOo

When Danny’s core had awoken he didn’t fly into the ghost zone blindly. It had been the impression of knowledge from one of the lowest ghosts in his order, a lizard like creature with a form the consistency of sand.

And then Danny had been taken to the Far Frozen. And he had met Frostbite.

Danny had never been exactly scared of what might happen if a ghost ‘ate’ him. He knew what it was to be at the top of an order, but despite feeling the comfort of his charges, he couldn’t imagine liking being in that position.

He’d have nothing to gain the way his ghosts did, minds going from stilted to simple but fast, aware. He’d just have his aim a massive amount of his autonomy stripped from him.

It made him feel bad about having taken his ghosts when he thought about it like that. Like a human would.

Then in Frostbite’s presence, he’d understood.

He’d known intimately in that moment, why his blob ghost had lured him closer in the hopes he would add it to himself. He felt every bit as small as it must have been in his presence.

Frostbite was bigger than he appeared, Danny could see that. He was letting shrunken yet he was still the largest yeti in the Far Frozen, and every member of that place was part of him.

Danny could only imagine the security they all felt under something so all-encompassing. He could feel Frostbite’s hunger, drawing him in, restrained if only because Danny was a hero to them.

It was a strange thing to want to be eaten.

Danny might have even asked. If it weren’t for his obsession and obligations, he might have forgotten humanity entirely and joined this wonderfully hidden, protected place.

But he had his haunt, his humans, his home to go back to. Then he did.

And despite how amazingly he’d been treated in the Far Frozen, despite how kind and affectionate the yeti’s were Danny stayed away. Because he didn’t know when he might not be able to pull himself away.

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angelic-ish-phantom · 2 years

Text

@dramaticnerdwithanxiety thanks for tagging me! 💚 I needed a reason to post literally anything.

An explanation: I find keywords (ANGER, JOKE, DRINK, WORTH and HEART) in my works (Wip or complete) and put the extracts here.

Anger

“Ghost!” She cried, shaking off her shock, and summoning a blaster.

“Wait, Valerie! You wouldn’t shoot a child?”

Valerie cocked the weapon, aiming it at the ghost’s head “How do know my name?” She growled.

“Erm,” the ghost stumbled, “that’s not important.” He deflected. “Let me ask a question?”

Valerie shot at the ghost. It dodged hastily.

“He- You can see I’m a child. A ghost child, but still basically a toddler. What damage could I do?”

“You kidnapped all the adults in town!” Valerie yelled, annoyed as her shots kept missing.

“Oh.” The ghost stopped dodging, appearing shocked. One of her attacks grazed him and he cringed, moving again, “I’m sure I had a good reason for that. I probably didn’t even hurt anyone.”

Valerie didn’t know why she was talking to this obviously delusional (amnesiac?) ghost. She tried to cool her anger, focusing as she shot, racing around him.

“Look, Val, I just don’t think it’s reasonable for you to assume I was going to do any harm. I just wanted to see a friend.”

She scoffed, still riled at the use of her nickname. “Ghosts don’t have friends.”

“Well I do!” He snapped. Freezing from his dodging again. “I just want to be there to help my friend, but you’re being an intolerant-“

A shot hit the center of the ghost’s torso.

Valerie flinched back slightly as the attack tore a hole write through it.

The pirate ghost closed its eyes, form flickering as it exhaled slowly, almost as though he were praying for patience. Only, it was the whole world that was flickering, breaking up around her-

Everything vanished in a haze of red.

I actually had a good few choices for this one, but decided on something I’d already posted in the end…

Joke

It had started as a joke almost.

The way his parents would be shooting him one moment then scolding him the next. It had nearly been funny, because Danny had never thought they would do anything if they knew. It was just… easier not to tell them; he could work out his ghost stuff on his own.

But, with every new word passed over the dinner table, with every Phantom encounter, with every moment they spent crafting up some new, cruel weapon, Danny lost the shape of the joke more and more.

All that was left was anxiety, and terror. nightmares and never thinking about it.

After a point, telling his parents what he was, just wasn’t an option.

//I never thought I would actually use this little snippet for anything so this is nice//

Drink

The five Rivers; they had many names, but the most well known and accepted of these were Lethe, Phlegethon, Acheron, Cocytus, and Styx.

And their “waters” had been used to create all manner of artifact and contract, only made possible due to the unique nature and potency of each River.

Lethe, Lemosyne, The Ameles Potamos. This is the River unmindfulness. It’s waters are clean and pure. To drink from it would be to forget, to fall into it might mean oblivion. When consumed, it binds the imbiber to the Realms so they may never leave, and it steals every non-foundational memory. It is complete forgetfulness, no remembrance left of family nor friends, nor exploits. Only, if extremely strong-willed, their name.

I only had all of two complete bits and one proper wip for this somehow…

Worth

In a place like Amity Park it could be hard to forget, but ghosts were supernatural creatures that weren’t supposed to ever interact with humans. They were terrifying and strange, and Danny, human as he still might be, was one of them.

But Tucker didn’t care, because Danny was his best friend, had always been. That wasn’t to say he didn’t notice, nor that it didn’t bother him, or even scare him at times, but Danny was worth it.

Tucker wished he were able rationalize that later that night, after dozing off, hoping Danny wouldn’t fall asleep with his concussion but unable to do anything to prevent it.

Tucker had been asleep.

And then he hadn’t.

It had been like a hook looped through his rib cage and yanked him up, sudden and violent. His eyes snapped open and he sat upright instantly, gasping and shivering as the freezer cold chill of his bedroom assaulted his senses.

Why was it so cold? He tried to blink away the haze of sleep from his eyes, only for his vision to be filled in bright, swirling pools of neon green—(the empty echo of a scream bouncing around the metal of the lab, heat and light and green burning and twining together in a vortex in front of Tucker.)

He shook himself out of the flickering memory, and processed the fact that Danny was crouched in his lap weightlessly, currently mismatched eyes boring straight into Tucker’s own.

Had other stuff for this one but would rather keep it to dp works at this point.

Heart

Valerie faltered. Her hands, clutching too tightly to her blaster everywhere it shouldn’t. She looked up at Phantom from her vantage and she couldn’t make the shot.

In the light of day, the ghost was obnoxious: A terror, a menace, and everything wrong with Valerie’s life, but…

As she looked at the him now, she hesitated. He was so quiet, serene… he was so silent, so beautiful, like a star in the night sky. The thought of ruining that?It felt a bit like trampling a field of flowers.

Then, there was… the wings.

In brightness, Phantom had a white bright glow, his aura bending around him like space distorted.

In the untouchable dark of the night sky, that light unfurled into wings: Massive and bright and majestic.

A heart made moonlight.

They spread out wide behind him as he glided through the air with a swimmers grace.

Ethereal.

Valerie holstered her gun, and began to make her way home. She needed the sleep anyway, and there was always tomorrow.

Honestly, I’ve never been happy with this one, but I’m glad get some use out of it!

Idk if you’d wanna, have the time, or have the fics for it, so no pressure u can just ignore, but if any of y’all do: @lexiepiper @five-rivers @peachdoxie @constellaj

#that was nice #danny phantom #dp #danny fenton #fanfiction #phicc #fanfic #dp headcanons #danny phantom au #word game #valerie gray #haha I have such a low attention span this took me three days bruh

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