#It's also been a minute since I last watch Danny Phantom
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Honestly, Danny doesn't know how he gets into these situations. It's probably the fault of a deity or an Ancient or someone. It's most definitely Clockwork's fault.
Going on that mission with Constantine sounded like a good idea at the time, and Raven was going to be there! She's the best impulse control on the team. He realizes he should've clarified why Raven was going with them. Evidently, it was not to help or be impulse control for the Ghost King and the Alcoholic Soul Whore. (Don't tell Constantine that's his nickname) Raven was going along because she had business at Titan Tower. It should've been obvious, but Danny is not the most observant.
Either way, he was wrong. He thought going on this mission with John - there was a demon running around an apartment building and people were, apparently, quite upset about that - would deter the Justice League from hounding him like roaches. He was right about that, but also very wrong because the proteges took the opportunity to sniff him out like the bloodhounds they are. Unsurprisingly, Red Robin was at the head of the charge.
Raven, the traitor, sat back and laughed at him. She wasn't laughing, but it was obvious that she found his misery amusing.
Anyway, this lead to a citywide hunt for Danny. Anytime he spotted even a hint of any of the Titans chasing him, he was gone. He couldn't stray too far from Constantine, though, and Beast Boy had a nose like a damn elephant.
The chase lasted a solid three hours before he had to let them catch him, if only so that he could tell them to leave him alone because he's there on official JLD business. Not like that would actually work, but he had hope. Unfortunately, he forgot that Red Robin is Bat Trained.
Danny took a second for himself before the Titans caught up with him. Was this really better than Deadman harassing him about his first time in Gotham? No, it wasn't. It wasn't any worse, either, and he didn't know how to feel about that.
"Are you finally done running?" Red Robin asked, landing in a crouch in front of him.
Danny folded his legs to sit criss-cross in the air as the rest of the kids that had been chasing him joined RR. "You make it sound like I'm a criminal."
"You ran like one," Beast Boy pointed out. Fair, but rude. "And, dude, I don't know if you know this, but you smell horrible."
Danny placed a hand on his chest with a dramatic gasp. "How dare you! I took a shower just last week!"
Raven was now unamused.
Superboy gagged a bit. "He's right," A small shudder. "I couldn't smell it before, but I can now that you're so close to me."
He sighed with equal dramatics as his gasp. "I guess I can never get rid of the smell, even after all this time."
Wonder Girl tilted her head to the side slightly. "Oh? And what smell would that be?"
"The smell of death," John Constantine, ever a man of impeccable timing, turned onto the side street to join them. He largely ignored the kids in favor of the ghost child who isn't actually a child but no one listens to him when he explains that so he's probably going to stop trying. "It lingers. C'mon, kid, we've got a demon to exorcise."
Danny huffed like a petulant child, "Still not a kid!"
Constantine continued walking away. "Still don't care."
Part 4 Part 6
Tag List:
@zaiothe4th @someonebored0100 @wolfeyedwitch @angelheartgamer @nymanders @princessbelix @luminanightfall @kgne-k @bianca-hooks123 @reigning-catsanddogs @sassywombatranchhorse @dontfightmecauseillcry @soul-lime @anarinette
#part 5#dc x dp#dcxdpdabbles#dp x dc#dcxdp#dcu#danny phantom#ghost king danny#the elephant comment is a complete coincidence#it's funny and I'm not complaining though#teen titans#red robin#justice league dark#I keep thinking of Dick's Titan Team instead of Tim's#we're figuring it out though#jld#no ships#If it's not been obvious#I've never actually read any of the DC comics#It's also been a minute since I last watch Danny Phantom#Enough Caffeine to Kill an Elephant#sorry for the short updates for this story
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Okay so there's this dp x dc tumblr post about the JL finding the Ghost King's family tree or something and lots of misunderstandings happening but I can't find it anymore and would be grateful if someone would send it to me... Anyhow I was inspired by it and this is the result!
Also on ao3 if you wanna check it out there!
The Family Tree
"So you're telling me this is just a family tree?", Green Lantern asked with a frown on his face.
Bruce could see Constantine's eyes twitching at that question. As always, leave it to Hal Jordan to annoy people.
"This isn't just anything", the sorcerer said with narrowed eyes. "It's a Class-X magical artifact. If this thing is used as a focus for a ritual, the magnitude of magical energy would rise by at least 80 factors. For those of you non-magical or unfamiliar with magic, that's fucking huge."
Beside him Zatanna nodded, her gaze still fixed on the ancient manuscript. She hadn't taken her eyes off the scroll for more than a minute since she got to the Watch Tower and first saw it spread out on the containment room table. Constantine was the same. Captain Marvel was not present, working along with Superman, Hawkgirl, and Aquaman on a case, but his reactions have always been dissimilar from his magical colleagues, so his case might be anywhere between staying the hell away from it to trying to inhale it.
It was clear to Bruce that Zatanna coveted it, but was sensible and cautious enough to stay away from it. Constantine had no sense so he was a tossup. From where he was standing between Wonder Woman and Martian Manhunter, the Gotham vigilante resolved to keep an eye on the two magicians. They most likely won't try to steal the artifact, considering the heavy dose of 'not messing with that thing' overshadowing the desire to possess it, but the scroll itself might be enchanted to encourage covetous feelings on those nearby. It wouldn't be the first time. Better safe than sorry.
It was Diana that stepped up towards the two JL Dark members to seek more clarification. As both a Demigod and as someone familiar with magic, she was usually the one taking point on such issues.
She gestured to the scroll innocently sitting inside the runic circle the two mages had constructed around it. "You have told us that the artifact is not destructive, that it is merely a record, and that the information it contains is not a spell, or a runic arrangement, or a magic circle. You have also told us that the strange energy readings coming from it are mostly due to the material it's made out of than any catastrophic sorcery enchanted into it. You have at last decoded it as a record of a family tree. Yet it is dangerous, a Class-X relic as you've said. Given all this information, I suppose the correct question to ask here is this: why is a family tree capable of raising magical energy output by 80 factors?"
The two magicians looked at each other. Zatanna finally pried her eyes away from the scroll and faced the room.
"Magic is a force that simultaneously has laws but at the same time adheres to none. It's confusing to explain but for the time being just keep that in mind."
She walked to the center of the room, followed by Constantine, visibly trying to collect her words. Bruce prepared himself for a complicated explanation and activated another one of the batsuit's recorders. He felt the urge to sigh, for a supposed unchained force, Magic was needlessly complex at times, and practically incomprehensible to non-magicals.
At the front, Zatanna took a deep breath and began.
"As you know there are multiple dimensions. But magical dimensions come under a different category. Depending on the overall magical potential of a particular magical dimension, we call it the World State Stable Thaumaturgical Output Capacity, we can classify these dimensions in grades and levels, as either higher or lower, with relation to each other. These levels are dependent on a multitude of variables like space, time, gravity, Events, Proximity, etc and as such are non-linear, and unfixed. That's the first thing."
Bruce could practically see the capitals on the last two. Looks like they would need to hold another meeting to clarify a lot of these concepts. Seeing the dawning of lost expressions on some of the members however, Bruce mentally amended that to many future meetings.
Zatanna continued. "Magical objects from higher dimensions become stronger in lower ones. The inverse is also true. This is all in relation to the Overture and the same polarity orientation of course but we don't need to get into that now-"
On the contrary Bruce thought they really needed more explanation on all of that.
"-In simple terms, a child's toy from a higher dimension could become the focus for an apocalyptic ritual in a much lower dimension, while an apocalyptic artifact from a lower dimension might as well be paperweight in a sufficiently higher one. There are ways around it, but if those methods are not implemented, then this is how it generally goes. The larger the level difference, the higher the power."
Now that wasn't concerning at all. Bruce really needed to update his contingency plans regarding magic.
Constantine continued from where Zatanna left off, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here.
"The second thing is that when it comes to magic, things that are indefinable or unquantifiable become definable and quantifiable. Stuff like love, hate, happiness, despair, fate, necessity, authority? All measurable. Not always needed of course, But definitely possible and frequently used in a variety of magical fields."
The sorcerer leaned against a nearby chair. "One such thing is Significance. The magic contained in true names for instance is mostly based on significance. A true name is significant to you, its a doorway to your soul, and therefore it holds power. Significance is also what we call a positive, additive factor in magic. In the absence of interfering variables, significance as a quantity is directly proportional to magical output. In other words-"
"-the more significant an object or an event, the higher the magical energy output, and consequently higher the magical power", J'onn finished. He looked towards the scroll. "The information recorded on it, the family tree as you've said, valuable in significance, most likely in terms of whose family it's a record of. In addition, the artifact is from a higher dimension with relation to ours, and that has a cumulative effect."
"Yeah exactly", said Constantine with a raised eyebrow. "Which means that if that hypothetical toy Zatanna mentioned? If that happened to be important enough, like a first toy, or a cherished gift or something like that, its significance increases, its potential increases, and in the right hands, or in the wrong hands really, that potential could be harnessed at a lower level."
There was a bout of thoughtful silence as they absorbed all of the information.
But Bruce felt as if he had been quiet enough and took the chance to ask a question of his own. "You mentioned something called the Overture, and polarity orientation. What do they mean?"
Constantine just sighed. "For fuck's sake Batsy those things aren't really important to the discussion..."
Bruce just stared.
..."Fine", the mage said in defeat. "There are many names for it, the Overture, Exordium, Legerdomain, Nascence...but the most accepted two are the Beforebirth, and the Womb. It's not a something as much as it's a someplace, but then again it's not really a place either. Simply put it's the birthplace of Magic, where it all began and all that. It can't be accessed without the Key and that's been lost for a long time. It's actually a mission for many magicals to find it you know? A holy quest for a lot of them. Some of them are straight up crazy though."
Bruce field that information safely away. Figure out a plan to combat fanatic magicians trying to find the birthplace of magic for sinister reasons. "And polarity?"
"Well", Zatanna began, "its how magic is classified according to the nature of...magic? Or rather the essence? It's hard to put in mundane terms...Anyhow broadly speaking there are two main polarities, the Obverse, and the Reverse."
For a moment, she struggled with the explanation before brightening, seemingly having found an idea.
"Picture a number line, but like on the y-axis! Zero is the Overture, Obverse dimensions are the positive number side, and Reverse dimensions are the negative numbers! The higher up the obverse dimension, the larger its magical output! Similarly, the lower down the reverse dimension, the higher its magical output."
Bruce had hardly parsed through that when their resident speedster spoke up.
"Guys", the red clad hero said, "I feel like we missed the obvious follow up question after Ollie over here...like I feel like this is important, but where exactly is the scroll from?"
As one everyone turned towards the artifact.
Constantine grimaced and Zatanna winced. They looked at each other as if asking who wanted to bite the bullet. Finally it looked as if Constantine lost. The sorcerer cursed under his breath.
"Well which dimension is the scroll from?", asked Wonder Woman.
Constantine took what looked like a fortifying breath.
"It's from the Infinite Realms."
Silence.
"What?", the Green Lantern asked intelligently.
"It's from the Infinite Realms. As in Infinite. As in end of the figurative fucking line, number line whatever!"
Everyone stared at the magicians as understanding slowly dawned.
There was what was essentially a magical nuke in the Watch Tower.
"Now", began Martian Manhunter, "this is unfortunate".
#The scroll belonged to a necromancer dude#Big fan of the Ghost King and made a family tree for his faves#Even somehow managed to show Danny and get his seal of approval#Which is a big deal obviously#Then he kicked the bucket and somehow this thing gets found by the JL during a mission#Sorry for the lore dump#Its kinds overkill for what was supposed to be humorous premise#apologies#DP X DC#dp x dc#Bruce Wayne#Batman#Diana Prince#Wonder Woman#J'onn J'onzz#Martian Manhunter#Hal Jordan#Green Lantern#Oliver Queen#Green Arrow#Justice League#John Constantine#Zatanna Zatara#Justice League Dark#DC#DC Comics#Danny Phantom#Barry Allen#The Flash#forgot him lol
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We're back with another dc x dp, coming to you this time on my phone while hang in off the back of my couch. Is blood rushing to my head? Yes.
Either way, I had a random thought about how personally as a child, I was a little monkey, like if my parents had actually had the thought to put me in gymnastics I would probably be a menace to society. And so my thought was, what if Danny was like that too?
Danny had always been very hyper, like, bounce of the walls, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON THE FRIDGE-" kind of hyper. When he started to climb, hang, flip, and just about break something just to have some fun, Jazz finally tried to get their parents to sign him up for gymnastics.
They didn't.
Both had been very happy at the idea, but when it came down to it, they just forgot. And one time without actually paying attention to the two, said gymnastics was for girls, ultimately shattering Danny's budding hobby. Jazz of course didn't just let that dream go, instead finding anything she could to let him learn on his own, at the very least, she made sure he was capable enough to pick it up in his teenage years should he finally get a chance to take classes.
That didn't end up happened either.
He'd died, become Phantom, accidentally become Crown Prince of the Infinite realms, and now had to deal with superheroes realizing that something was up in Amity. More specifically, a credible news reporter finally came to the town and settled the real or not debate in one swift "WTF IS THAT-" upon seeing a giant robot hunter thing(it was Skulker).
Along with all that, his parents, or more specifically his mother, was finally noticing something was wrong. Almost two years after he died, she finally took a second to look at him, and was disturbed. So Danny, being optimistic as he can be, tries to tell them, which goes horribly wrong and ends in a lab explosion and Danny 'stuck' in the Ghost Zone. Really Jazz blew the portal up after reaching her own breaking point and immediately called CPS on her parents since Danny was never gonna come back to them.
Danny all ouchy, there goes my parents because the two destroyed their blood bond by intentionally aiming to harm him instead of the weird loophole they'd been in before. Clockwork being Clockwork yeets him over to Gotham, giving Jazz a note about it.
Over in Gotham, he's actually thrown right from a portal in the aky hurdling down toward one of the city's rogues. Whoever it is, the Batfam are like "wtf-" at the clearly confused child that suspiciously looks like they're one of the Waynes, and so they just take him back. Doesn't help that they're worried since he just got thrown from who knows where and definitely did not take that fall well- also doesn't help that he's clearly bleeding and severely injured.
Danny, after Alfred forces him to rest from injuries, is so hyper. His hyperness had gone into his vigilantism, so now with nothing to deter it, he was going crazy and he felt so stiff.
Cue one of the sibkings walking in to find the kid hanging dangerously off something and just going "hi". Dick has a new favorite(not really he still loves all his siblings the same...maybe Damian and new kid are a smidge higher, but they're younger so it doesn't count).
When he takes the kid to the gym in their house, he is literally running around and getting onto everything. Now Dick has accidentally acquired little acrobatic brother that he's determined to help out with getting better.
Best part, Danny doesn't even realize the others are like "welp he's family now" and is just thinking they're very nice for being rich. He doesn't trust Bruce too much though, sure rich people's mids could be chill(take Sam for example) but parents themselves were iffy.
No one knows how to react to the truth bombs he randomly drops without even realizing it either.
Dick, watching Danny haning upside down from a bar for the last like 10 minutes: whatcha doin buddy?
Danny: thinking about my parents.
Damian, who's also been watching the whole tome but would never admit it: Your parents?
Danny, yeeting himself off the bar with no sense of self preservation: yeah, they told me they'd sign me up for gymnastics. Never did. Claimed it was only for girls. Although I think that was the same day our oven came alive on accident and almost set me on fire so...they were pretty distracted.
Dick, staring in actual horror for many reasons: What?!
Damian, also horrified but not showing it as much: Your oven came alive...?
Danny, who still isn't paying attention and already having forgotten what he said: how do you do that thing you showed me earlier?
#danny phantom#dc x dp#dp x dc#ghost king danny#danny fenton#dc comics#dick grayson#damian wayne#jazz fenton#batfamily#batfam
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Face to Face- Chapter 55
Summary: When Danny went through the ghost catcher, he expected to be cured of the ghostliness that had haunted him since the accident, not to wake up on the lab floor with his parents saying he’d been overshadowed but everything’s back to normal now. But why does Danny Fenton cry himself to sleep to then dream of flying? Why does Phantom, the ghost who was supposedly possessing Danny remember a life that wasn’t his? Most of all, why do both the human and the ghost feel that something vital is missing, in their very soul? Or: Trying to cure himself of his powers one month after the accident, Danny accidentally splits himself but neither his ghost nor his human half know that that is what they did
First -> Last -> Next
Word Count: 4,666
Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net
Note: I'm back with a new chapter! It's been a minute; I've been busy with Invisobang but I'm excited to be done with the writing and onto the editing process. Also, notice, we finally have a final chapter count! More about that and my Invisobang story in the end note.
With no school and no alarm set for the morning, Danny happily slept in. He slowly blinked awake to soft golden light, rolled over, and…. drifted in and out of sleep for another hour at least.
He woke up again to the light shifted. A glance at the clock: 10:30. The boy scrolled through his phone for a while before his rumbling stomach convinced him to get up.
Down in the kitchen, Danny enjoyed a bowl of cereal. He hummed happily, mind going over plans for the day. No school! Other than a bit of homework, he was free. He could just relax, watch TV, hang out. Maybe Sam and Tucker would want to do something or…
He dropped his spoon, the thought hitting him. “I should go see Sidney.” The other ghost had no idea that he was back to normal now. And he still had so many questions, so many plans to make.
Mind made up, the half ghost put his bowl in the sink. Ghostly keen ears picked up on voice downstairs; his parents must be working. He should check with them before going out.
The boy opened the basement door, briefly knocking to get the adult’s attention.
“- doors for the portal are a good idea. But wouldn’t ghosts be able to just phase through the steel?”
“What if we came up with some kind of phase-proof paint?” Dad raised a hand, turning to look up at the boy at the top of the stairs. “Morning, son.”
“Morning.” Danny started down the stairs. “What are you guys talking about?”
“Installing steel doors for the portal.” Mom turned on her stool. “We haven’t had problems with ghosts coming through but it could become one. Especially if more natural portals are opening up.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “That couple who showed up last night came through a natural portal, you said.”
“Yeah.” The boy nodded, going on to explain everything that had happened with Johnny, Kitty, and Shadow at the concert.
Both adults nodded as the story finished. “So there was another natural portal.” Dad said. “We really need to work on a way to track and map out those.”
“We could modify the Fenton Finder and-” Mom started, already switching to problem-solving mode.
Danny held up his hands. “Before you get into it, I came down here to tell you I’m going to go see Sidney.”
A worried look crossed each parents’ face, eyes flickering to the portal.
The boy shook his head, interpreting the look. “I’m not going through there. I was gonna go to the school and see if I can use his portal.”
The worried looks eased slightly but… “So you’re still going into the Realms?”
Danny nodded at his mom’s question.
The woman’s brow furrowed. “You won’t be able to call us if something happens.”
“I’ll stay in the lair.” The boy shook his head, voice placating. “I’m not going to go flying off to some random place without a plan. And I’ll be with Sidney if something happens. He knows his way around.”
The parents traded a look, silently communicating. Finally, Mom sighed. “Alright. Be back before dinner.”
A smile cracked on the halfa’s face. “I will.”
“And-” Dad said pointedly, causing the boy’s smile to dip. “Tell your friend we want to meet him.”
“Yes.” Mom nodded vigorously. “You can bring him over whenever. Even today! We really want to pick his… brain?” Her brow wrinkled at the phrase.
“Core?” Dad shrugged, eyebrow raised.
Danny laughed. “Alright. I’ll see if he wants to come over later.” He started turning to leave. “I’ll see you guys later.” He stepped up the first stair, mind already planning. He’d walk to the school, sneak in. Invisibility and intangibility were good for that….
He paused, core suddenly itching. He could walk or…
Deciding, Danny summoned the rings. Once. Twice. It took three tries for them to pass.
His parents gave him curious looks. “What are you doing, Danno?”
“Well, um. I was going to walk but…” The boy shifty awkwardly in the air, suddenly nervous. “I’m kinda itching to... And I haven’t really done it in a while but I really want to fly there.”
Another pair of concerned looks was traded. “Can you keep it up long enough to get there, son?” Dad motioned to his floating form.
“I think so?”
Mom raised a brow challengingly. “You think so? Danny, I don’t want you falling out of the sky.”
“Well.. I can feel when I’m about to change back. So I can land before them. And I can kinda still fly as a human so…” He shrugged.
“We did see that yesterday, Madds…” Dad nodded, a brow raised at the woman.
“Yes, we did…” The woman’s expression softened. “Go on then.” She waved him off.
“Yes!” Danny fist pumped, already zooming up the stairs.
“Bye son!” “Love you Sweetie!”.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Flying to the school was fast. And true enough, getting to Sidney’s locker was easy with his powers.
Landing in the hall, Danny cautiously looked to both sides. No one- teacher or custodial staff- was in the hall. He turned visible, opening the rusty door.
“Sidney!” He hissed, eyes fixing on his tarnished reflection. “I’m me, Danny.”
There was a long pause, leaving the ghost floating awkwardly. But…
The image rippled, the sudden movement startling the nervous boy.
“Sidney!” Danny exclaimed, realizing.
There was his bespeckled friend. Through the mirror, the other ghost waved excitedly, a grin spreading across his face. A clear invitation to come through.
The halfa touched the mirror and again it rippled, a familiar wave of green passing over. A cold feeling brushed Danny’s hand. Like before, the portal opened.
The halfa smiled. Taking a breath, he let his body relax, feeling liquid and boneless. He effortlessly slunk through the opening. Recoiling back into his proper shape, he emerged on the other side, into Sidney’s lair.
“Hey, Sidney! How’s it going?” With a smile, Danny held a closed fist up in greeting.
The other ghost blinked confusedly at the gesture, tilting his head in question. But he quickly caught on. Sidney tentatively raised his fist before he delivered the expected fist bump. “This is a nice surprise. It’s great to see you… Danny.” He trailed off slightly, eyes widening as he slowly withdrew his hand.
Danny lowered his own fist. “What?”
“You’re different…” The nerd’s brow wrinkled for just a moment. Then…. his mouth fell open, eyes sparkling with excitement. “You re-joined, didn’t you?!”
“Yes?” Despite the surety of the answer, his voice still pitched up in question. “How do you even know that?”
“I can see it! Your aura looks so much warmer.” The other ghost motioned. “And your core sounds happy!” Sidney gave a little clap. “So things worked out?”
Danny stared for just a second, mind working. More questions… what exactly was that about seeing his aura and hearing his core? But the boy shook his head, dismissing them for now. “Yeah!” He beamed. “That’s why I wanted to come see you. I managed to re-merge a few days ago and…”
In quick order, the halfa recapped what had happened in the two weeks since he’d seen his ghostly friends. Making up with his parents, practicing his powers, meeting the dragon ghost, and finally being able to fuse back into one person. “So yeah. It’s really great to feel like myself again. So…” He rubbed the back of his neck, then shrugging. “I kinda wanted you to actually met halfa-me and hang out for a bit.”
“Well then…” Sidney laughed, holding out his hand. “My name is Sidney Pointdexter. It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”
Grinning, Danny took the hand. “Daniel James Fenton-Phantom. You can call me Danny. I’m happy to officially meet you.”
The shake ended, both boys dropping hands. Then…
“Do you want to see my garden?”
“Yes! I’d love to.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“...And this is a tiger shrub.” Sidney pointed at the squat but bushy plant.
Danny studied it with wide eyes. So different from the plants he was used to…. Neon blue veins criss crossed the stems. Stripped flowers the size of his hand- black as the void of space and day glow orange, reminding him of his dad’s signature hazmat suit. And the fist sized fruits….
“Tiger fruit! That’s what I tried last time I was here.”
“Yep.” Sidney gave a nod. “Grown right here.”
The half ghost’s head turned, taking in everything. “This is incredible…”
It really was. Plants of every describable color-- and quite a few he had no words for – covered just about every inch of the roof and the courtyard below. Bed of pitch black lettuce. Trees with perfectly hexagonal pink leaves. A literally squirming vine with what looked like some type of gourd attached, except perfectly spiraled and covered with different colored polka dots.
A bit of awe leaked into Danny’s voice. “Really incredible, Sidney.”
The other ghost puffed out his chest slightly at the praise. “I’m happy to hear you think so, friend. I have been tending it for decades.”
The halfa nodded, appreciation just growing. “Mom and Dad are gonna want to see this.” His eyes widened. A sudden idea… “Pictures! I should take some pics.” His hand flailed, patting the top of his pants, up to his torso.
“What are you looking for?”
“My phone. I brought it downstairs with me this morning….” It should be in his pocket. Except his hazmat didn’t have any pockets. His hands suddenly froze. He’d transformed before leaving the house. Danny smiled sheepishly. “Guess it's in my other pants.”
“Pictures? Phone? Other… pants?” The poor guy looked so confused. “What are you talking about?”
The halfa lowered his hands. “So humans are okay being here for a little bit, right? Like, I’m not going to fall through your lair or something.”
“Probably not?”
That was good enough. Two flickers of his rings. Danny turned human. And…
“Wha!” His body sank into the roof. “I’m not even intangible!”
Sidney grabbed him. “You are not falling through the roof.”
“No, dude. I definitely am.”
“No.” The word was definitive, without question. “Close your eyes and say it. ‘I am not falling through the roof.’” The other ghost pulled up.
“I am not falling through the roof?” His feet touched down, solid on the concrete.
“You are not going to fall. You are solid. The roof under you is solid. You won’t fall.” Sidney continued.
He did feel solid…. “I won’t fall.” Danny said confidently.
He opened his eyes, just as his friend let go of him. The half ghost looked down. He dragged one shoe across the surface. “Huh. Solid.”
Beside him, Sidney nodded. “That’s how things work in the Realms for humans. As long as you think something is solid, it is.”
Danny raised a brow. “But if I think it isn’t…” Instantly, his shoes started sinking. “Heh.” He chuckled. But with just a thought, the boy stepped up, his perspective shifting as the ground became solid again. “So humans are the ghosts.”
The other boy nodded. Then his eyes trailed down the halfa’s now human body. “So you can change back and forth.” There was more than a bit of awe to the words. “That was quite a light show, bub.”
“Like my magical girl transformation, huh?” He grinned. “Now. Why did I…” He reached for his pocket. “Right, my phone.”
He swiped the device out of his pocket, alighting the screen with the press of a button. No service of course but… he opened the camera app and pressed on the screen to take a picture. “Nice, it’s working.” Danny took a bunch of photos before swiping to the gallery. “Not too bad.” He gave an appreciative nod. The phone camera couldn’t really capture the vividness of the colors or the real depth of the scene. But it wasn’t bad for a phone camera.
“Whatcha got there?” Sidney leaned over his shoulder. “Jeepers!” The ghostly nerd’s eyes widened comically. “How’d ya do that?”
Danny shrugged. “I just took a picture on my phone.” He held out the device. “Want to see?”
The other ghost eagerly took the device, holding it close to his face, father away, and then back. “Phone… like telephone?”
Danny nodded.
“This is a telephone?! Where’s the cord? The rotary dial? How are you supposed to give your pal a bell?” Sideny turned the device once, twice, before his finger brushed the screen. The image swiped to the next picture, causing Sidney to freeze, startled. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
The halfa laughed. “It’s a touch screen. You just changed the picture.”
His friend unstiffened at the words, eager fingers returning to the screen. “It takes photographs like a camera… but there’s no film. And it’s a telephone.” His voice trembled with awe. “This is like something out of Science Fiction Quarterly.”
“You think that’s impressive,” Danny grinned, full of mirth. “Wait until I tell you about the internet.”
“.... What’s the internet?”
That inquiry led to an hour, at least, of fielding questions. Sidney zipped around the garden, excited and awestruck. Danny chuckled, appreciating his friend's enthusiasm.
“The modern world’s wonders never cease.” The ghostly nerd ran a hand over his hair. He suddenly stopped in his pacing.
“What?” Danny pushed off of the tree he was leaning against, standing fully.
“Can you take a picture of me?” Sidney asked sheepishly.
“Sure.” The half ghost shrugged, pulling the phone out of his pocket. He positioned the device in the air. “Smile.”
The other ghost did so. A few presses of the button and Danny presented the images.
There was Sidney, floating in front of the tiger shrub. His glow blurred the image slightly, his edges fuzzy but…
“Jeepers. That’s amazing.”
“It looks pretty good.” The half ghost shrugged mildly. “Wanna take some pics with me?” He held up the phone, turning the screen towards the pair and…
A flurry of activity. The friends made silly faces at the screen. Danny gave Sidney bunny ears. More pictures of the garden, of the ghostly nerd picking fruit and watering the plants. One from above, the image perking into the courtyard. The empty halls of the school. Outward, facing the open Realms with its purple doors and swirling clouds.
Danny lowered the phone. “Mom and Dad are going to love these.”
Sidney lowered the watering can. “They can visit too, if they want. I do wanna meet them.”
A nod. “Yeah. I was supposed to ask you about that. They’re really excited to pick your brain. Do you want to come over with me after this?”
The other ghost laughed, before shrugging. “Righto! That sounds neat. We’ll fly over after lunch. I want to see all those new fangled personal computers and flat TVs!”
Danny held out his phone, wearing a smirk. “Behold. A new fangled personal computer!”
Sidney rolled his eyes, returning to inspecting one of his vines. “And I can talk to your folks about taking you to the Ghost Writer’s library.”
“Mom, Dad, and Jazz were really excited to learn about that too.” Danny chuckled.
“If Ghost Writer is okay with it, I’m sure they can visit some time too. And my lair too, if they want to see it in person.”
A nod. “They’d like that.” His brow furrowed, a thought tickling his brain. His family actually planning to visit the Realms….
“My parents and sister can’t come through your portal though. We’ll have to figure out how to get here from ours…” Danny turned, surveying the green atmosphere. “Our portal can’t be that far. I did end up here by accident. Let’s see, I came from that direction…”
Danny turned, facing the front of the school and… he breathed, his core pulsing strangely. He couldn’t see anything but…. an odd sound, a humming tickled his core. There was… a pull.
Sidney must have picked up on his odd expression. “What is it?”
The half ghost pointed. “The portal’s…. That way.” He suddenly felt more sure. “Yeah. If I go straight that way… maybe for thirty minutes or so?”
A hand moved to rub his chest. That pull…. He’d felt something like it before, the metaphysical connection between his two halves. This was similar but… dimmer, with a different flavor, on a different wavelength. Danny’s nose wrinkled. “That’s weird, right? I feel like… I just know where it is.”
“It’s not that weird.” The nerd shifted awkwardly in the air, face scrunched up in thought.
There was something to that look…. “What is it?”
Sidney looked down, fiddling with his fingers. “It’s normally taboo to talk about another ghost’s… death unprovoked. But you did tell me some about it… and I have an idea about your portal…”
Danny’s eyes widened, understanding. “Sid, just tell me what you’re thinking. I won’t get upset.” The words earnest and gentle.
“Alright.” The other ghost sighed. “It’s pretty common for a ghost to be linked to their place of death or their grave. And you did say the portal is where you died….”
The half ghost frowned. “Linked? Linked how?”
“Like you can always find your way back, no matter where you are. Or some ghosts can see or hear what is happening there from a distance. Like… hear a loved one talking at their resting place.”
The hestance in those words… “Sidney, are you…”
“Linked to my grave? Yes. And… to my locker.” His voice lowered, arms wrapping around himself.
Danny paled, heart squeezing. The implications there….
The other ghost rubbed his face. “A bully locked me in there, right before spring break. I remember yelling for hours. But no one came. No one cared no matter how much I banged on the door or cried or…” His voice trembled, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. “I had my pocket knife in my front pocket. And it was so stupid but it hurt… everything hurt so much…” For just a second, neon green cuts welled on his wrists, the marks gone in the next blink.
“Sidney…” The half ghost stepped forward, his warm living hand covering his friend's cold ghostly one. “I’m so sorry.”
The nerd rubbed his eyes. “My first life ended too soon but… “ He shrugged. “I’ve got another one and it’s been pretty good. Besides, we were talking about you, not me.”
“Alright… but you can talk to me about it if you want.” Danny paused for a second, then sighing as he accepted Sidney’s nod of acknowledgement. He wasn't going to push… “So… I probably am linked to Mom and Dad’s portal then.”
“That or you’re sensing your lair.” The ghostly nerd’s brow wrinkled. “Are you feeling a pull, like you really want to go there?”
Danny considered. “Maybe?”
“Try transforming. Maybe if you’re a ghost, it will be clearer.”
The halfa obeyed, the rings flickering once before passing over his body. Now in ghost form, he floated off the ground.
“Are you feeling a pull now?”
Danny’s brow furrowed. “It’s… louder?” The hum danced at the edge of his perception. “Like… the line is thicker?” Fishing line as opposed to the previous spider silk. “Line’s not really the right word though. It’s more liquid?” He shook his head. “It feels like someone turned up the contrast on a photo but… no, the pull’s not any stronger.”
“That is strange…” The other ghost rubbed his chin.
The half ghost wanted to roll his eyes. ‘That is strange’… how could Sidney even make sense of what he was trying to describe? It didn’t even make sense to himself.
Instead of commenting, Danny shook his head. “What did finding your lair feel like?”
Sidney looked up. “Well, I woke up floating in the middle of all this green. I was really confused but there was this… pull, in my chest. All I could think about was following it. There was something at the other end, somewhere I needed to go. So I followed and I found the school.”
He definitely wasn’t feeling anything that desperate….
“Maybe your lair is forming but it isn’t done yet.” His friend suggested.
“That’s a possibility?” Danny raised a brow.
The other ghost shrugged. “You’re a halfa. Anything’s possible.”
Said halfa also shrugged. “I guess we should just follow the link and see what happens.”
“It’s as good a plan as any. Now…” Sidney grabbed the basket full of freshly picked fruits and vegetables. “Let’s go eat.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The two enjoyed a meal in the cafeteria, chatting about books and movies. It turned out Sidney was a big fan of science fiction and Danny had just read H.G. Well’s “The Time Machine” for school.
Both full after the delicious lunch and the conversation drawing to a close, Danny stood up. “We should get going.”
The other ghost nodded. Then hurrying to the other end of the room he grabbed a cloth bag. “Here’s some food for later, things from the garden. And….” He presented three glass jars with holes in the top, a bit of soil, and… “That’s a cutting from my tiger shrub. That one’s spotted squa-pump-chini. And midnight arugula. I can show you how to plant them once we get to your portal. They’ll need a bit of water. And lots of talking to. That’s the most important part; they won’t grow unless you tell them they’re doing a good job.”
Danny laughed. “That sounds like something Sam would say.” He’d have to show her these.
“I’m serious. Realms plants are very sensitive to emotions. Feed them some good ones and they’ll be flowering in no time.”
“You got it, boss.” He took the jars, carefully placing them in the bag and the bag on his back.
The pair floated towards the school’s entrance. Sidney pushed the doors open, motioning to the swirling green atmosphere. “After you.”
And with that, the half ghost took off, following the strange hum of the portal through the uncharted Realms and back home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The flight back to the portal was much less eventful than his last trip. Danny passed that same sideways river. (Revir Syawedis, Sidney said it was called.)
That same floating island, covered in trees. (“Skulker’s island.” The ghostly nerd shivered at the words, hurrying past it.)
A school of now-more-familiar blobs swirled around them, a few approaching to nudge at both boys curiously before darting back to their group.
Sidney scratched one between the eyes, the little things letting out a hum. “Ah. Spotted blobs. Always friendly little guys.”
“Spotted? But they’re all one color?”
“Watch.” Sidney instructed, ectoenergy flickering in his hand. The blob trilled, body flashing with…
“It does have spots.” Danny laughed, eyes crinkling in happiness as the green and purple spotted blob darted back to its school.
The pair continued on, darting past more floating rocks. Above that floating highway the two biker ghosts had driven one. More confusing, twisting masses of stairs.
And barely twenty minutes after leaving Sidney’s lair…
“We’re here.” The almost anxious buzz in Danny quieted at the sight of the floating pillar with the tiny metal frame on top.
It was Sidney’s turn to look amazed. “Your parents made that!”
Danny nodded, flying down to meet the cliff near the bottom. His friend followed. The two circled as they flew up.
“I’ve seen this plateau before. It’s right next to the infinite highway.” The full ghost offered.
It was the same purplish rock as last time, interspersed with hand and foot holds. But…
The halfa blinked. “That wasn’t there before.”
Danny eyed the staircase carved into the rock. He reached out, touching one of the steps. His fingers brushed the surface and… he shrugged, confused core settling. Something about this felt right…
“Danny.” Sidney nudged him, pointing.
There was the outline of a door, carved into the rock. Both reached out to touch….
A cold, electric flicker sparked from the half ghost’s core.
His friend said what Danny was already sensing. “It feels like your aura.”
The feeling radiated…. home, belonging, safety.
Danny smiled. “So it’s a lair in progress, huh?”
He could almost picture the cozy room behind the door….
Dismissing the image, Danny flew up. “It’ll be ready soon.”
Arriving at the top, he landed. His eyes crinkled up, pleased at the little tufts of purple grass, spreading across the bare rock. Or… he drug his shoe across the surface… actually, it was packed dirt.
Sideny eyed the area approvingly. “This will be a great place to plant those cuttings.”
“Once Mom and Dad take a look, yeah.” Thinking of them….
Danny floated forward, approaching the portal. His hand parted the green mist. The action tickled his mind, a reminder of his dream. The place where he died and where he was re-born….
Shoulders relaxing, he flew through.
The boy started calling even before he was through. “Mom! Dad! I’m-”
The clatter of two chairs cut off the word, both adults jumping to their feet and wielding whatever tool they’d been using weapons.
“Home?” Danny finished.
“Oh, Hi sweetie!” Mom dropped the wrench on the table, pulling down her goggles. “And you brought your friend! Sidney, I presume.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” The full ghost nodded, offering a hand to shake which the woman accepted.
“Danno!” Dad grinned. “And Sidney!” Another handshake, this time so enthusiastic that the nerd bobbed up and down like a balloon. “Nice to meet you, kiddo!” The adult’s brow furrowed, gaze flickering to the portal. “We really need to make a doorbell for that thing or something.”
“We really should. When we build the doors, we’ll need a way for Danny to open them from the Realms side too.”
“Maybe some kind of DNA lock?” The other adult suggested.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” Danny nodded.
“We can discuss it later.” Mom waved off. “And speaking of the Realms…” The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly, serious and concerned. “I thought you told us you were coming back through Sidney’s portal, Mister.”
“Yeah. I did…” The halfa shrugged, suddenly sheepish. “But I brought Sidney with me!” He motioned to his friend. “And we found out my lair is forming right under the portal! And!” He swiped the bag off his back. “We brought food from Sid’s garden! And these plant cuttings.” Danny shoved the jar with the tiger shrub cutting forward enthusiastically. “See!”
Dad accepted the jar, studying it with wide eyes. “Check it out, Madds!”
The mother’s gaze flickered to the jar, then back to her son. Her expression softened. “Alright. I’m glad you’re back safe.” She ruffled his hair. “It sounds like you had quite the adventure.”
“Mom!” Danny shrugged away, complaining like any normal teenager.
“Is this one of those new fangled personal computers?!” Sidney interrupted from where he was floating over one of the lab tables. He pointed excitedly, apparently distracted by one of the parents’ inventions.
“Afraid not.” Dad chuckled. “That’s the Fenton Finder!”
“Fenton Finder? What does that do?”
The question was enough to send the man into an excited invention ramble, the full ghost listening intently with wide eyes.
Danny watched for a minute, feeling the warm heaviness of a transformation coming on. He flickered back to human and stretched, his hands reaching over his head. “Man. I flew for a while.” His stomach grumbled. “I need some human food.”
With a word to his friend, Danny started up the stairs.
His mom interrupted. “Have you done your homework yet?”
He paused, eyes widening. “I hadn’t even thought about that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I should…. Sid, I’m going to get a quick snack and work on homework for an hour or so. My room’s upstairs if you wanna hang….”
He trailed off, seeing the other ghost wave him off, still intent on the conversation with his parents. Danny blinked. How did this keep happening….
With a silent chuckle, Danny walked up the stairs. His parents getting along with a ghost again… who would have thought?
Note: I hope you enjoyed the chapter! As always, I eagerly await ya'lls' thoughts, especially as this fic wraps up; there's one more chapter after this-already written- and then an epilogue which I only just started on. I'm super-excited at see this all come together.
And about my Invisobang story! I am writing a sequel to my first Invisobang fic which was called I am you(and you are me). This new story is set right after D-stabilized. A rough blurb is below.
Consumed with worry and scarred after watching Dani almost die, Danny begs her to come home with him and meet Jazz. He wants to see her safe and happy and taken care of so badly. An important reveal also weighs heavy on him – Dani isn’t the only living clone… and the other is him. He needs to tell her the truth; maybe that will convince her to agree to the idea of telling his parents. And she'll stay in Amity Park, by his side where he'll never have to worry if she's safe ever again.
Meanwhile, Dani has mixed feelings. She's still reeling from the loss of her clone siblings. Danny’s unexpected worry and care make her uncomfortable in light of that… and her guilt; she did hurt him and help him get kidnapped twice. How can he care about an imperfect, a mistake like her? But having clean clothes and a bed is wonderful and things aren't so simple, after learning that one of his clone brothers is alive.
Will Dani accept the help she needs and let herself be loved? Or will she push Danny and Jazz away and run again?
There will be lots of sibling fluff and bonding. Misunderstandings and emotional conversations and healing. I'm very excited to share what I've been working on soon!
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the only ghost in Amity Park
Continuation of Half Of
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Only in Amity Park did the revelation that a local teenager was sorta, kinda a ghost just blow over in a few days. Sure, people still stared at Danny Fenton as he walked by and everyone was still wondering what exactly he was, but overall life had moved on. Star sighed to herself as she organized her notebooks, waiting for class to begin. Just another day.
Star herself really didn’t want to get involved in whatever was going on with Danny. She didn’t like him before he was a celebrity and didn’t plan on starting anytime soon. While Paulina still relentlessly, and vainly, pumped him for information on her dead boy crush, Phantom and he and Dash formed some weird macho bond or whatever, Star avoided him. He’d given her the chills since the day he’d walked into Casper High. When Danny’s secret had been exposed mid-attack, Star hadn’t been surprised. She didn’t need some ghost to tell her that there was something deeply, unsettlingly wrong with Danny Fenton.
Danny didn’t seem particular bothered, by his inhuman nature or by suddenly having his secret exposed. If anything, the nerd looked more relaxed than ever. Star had been watching him, they all had, but Fenton kept his ghostly antics to a minimum when in public. The occasional flash of green eyes when emotional, a grin of sharpened teeth. He made Mikey’s locker lock intangible the other day when the kid had forgotten his combination and he floated down the stairs instead of walking sometimes. It had been a week and it was frightening how quickly such strangeness had become almost normal.
“Alright kids, phones and notes away we’re starting class with a pop quiz. Hope you’ve all kept up with your weekly readings,” Faluca announced cheerily. The whole class, including Fenton, moaned and packed up their bags. Star supposed being an undead being haunting his own life didn’t make him immune from normal human problems. She was biting her lip trying to remember which antibody caused allergic reactions when she got an uneasy feeling. She looked up and was not surprised to see Danny Fenton looking around too. It had been a solid week without ghost attacks, looks like Fenton’s supposed vacation time was up.
Star stopped her writing and adjusted the bag at her feet to prep for evacuation. She briefly wondered what Fenton would do, what he could do? Did he also hunt ghosts, like his parents? Like Phantom? There were no blasts, no screams, no monologues but the dread increased when a ghost shield descended over them. Actually, it looked like it was just covering their classroom. Now everyone was looking up from their quizzes and out the window at the flickering, green shield.
“You’d think the administration would’ve warned me we were going to do a drill,” Faluca said but his voice was hesitant. Clearly this wasn’t planned so despite the lack of alarms, there was a good chance this was real. “Pencils down for the moment while I figure out what’s going on.”
“Mr. Faluca, I need to go,” Danny said, raising his hand. Star was so used to hearing the request she almost ignored him but the dread curling in her stomach made her look again. His face was pinched, sharp and his eyes burned with an icy fury like a sudden storm blowing in without warning.
“Mr. Fenton, I don’t think...” Faluca murmured uneasily. Danny frowned harder.
“It wasn’t a request, actually,” Danny said roughly as he stood up and began walking towards the door. He was almost there when the door slammed open and Fenton had no less than 3 ectoweapons pointed in his face. A few kids jumped back in alarm but Danny held his ground as half a dozen Guys in White agents entered the room and surrounded him.
“Spectral scum formerly known as Daniel Fenton, you’re coming with us,” one of the agents said.
“Danny not Daniel and it’s still my name,” Danny quipped, eyeing each of the government officials and their weapons. “And no, I’m not. I’m still alive, somewhat anyway, so I have rights. The courts backed me up.”
“Everyone who signed for your freedom doesn’t know ghosts like we do,” Another agent said so forcefully, some spittle flew out of their mouth and hit Danny’s cheek. Star watched it freeze and fall away the instant it hit his skin. “Your kind are too dangerous to wander around, you need to be contained and eliminated. Don’t worry, your parents will receive a sizable check as recompense.”
“I’m the one who needs to be contained?” Danny said slowly, evenly but there was a static to his voice that caused the hairs on the back of Star’s neck to rise. When she breathed out, she saw her breath was misting. Everyone’s was as the room temperature continued to plummet. “When you come in here and take hostages to threaten me?” Danny hissed, he took a step forward and his eyes took on a neon green glow. “You didn’t come to my home or on the streets, you came to take me in the middle of biology when I’m surrounded by civilians, kids.”
“You delude yourself into thinking you’re still human,” another agent scoffed. “Everyone knows ghosts are weaker when giving into their obsession.” Danny laughed, it was loud and mocking and like fingernails running down a chalkboard. Faluca, stuck in between Danny and the agents, was white as a sheet and gripping his desk like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.
“You know nothing,” Danny hissed, his voice barely recognizable as human. His hair and shirt floated in an invisible but angry breeze. Frost crawled up his arms and his face. Various ecto alarms were ringing on the belts of the agents and they started to look a bit nervous. He looked nothing like the kid who, minutes before, had clearly been struggling with their bio quiz. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with. You cannot come into my haunt and threaten my people to get to me. Protecting what is mine will always make me stronger!”
“This whole town is constantly under attack because of things like you!” One particularly brave agent said even as a few others had backed up. “Amity Park is on the verge of collapse because of all the ghosts!”
“There is only one ghost in Amity Park,” Danny said, he tilted his head, his black and white hair dangling in his face as he gave a sharpened smile. “There is only me and the ghosts I allow, ghosts who know the rules, who respect my authority here by keeping damage to people and property down. I am the only ghost haunting this town and why do you think that is?” One agent threw down his gun and ran through the open door.
“You’re-you’re a monster!” Another woman shouted, shaking as she stepped back before fleeing.
“I’m not the one who needs to threaten innocents to get to their target,” Danny sneered. “It’s a good thing you did though, I wouldn’t hold back if I wasn’t worried about collateral.” Another three agents turned tail and ran. Until there was only one left. His gun was still trained on Danny but his hands were shaking.
“You don’t scare us,” the agent trembled through the obvious lie having been abandoned by his comrades. “We’ll get you monster, if it’s the last thing we do.”
“Looking forward to it,” Danny drawled sarcastically as some of his horrifying aura dissipated along with the freezing grip on the room. Within moments Danny has settled back into more human form. While he’d been angry before, now he looked almost bored. At no point had he seemed afraid.
“You take your people and your equipment and you leave Amity’s borders by sunset tonight,” Danny declared resolutely. “If you have continued problems with my existence, you take it up with the courts. We settle this as humans but if you treat me as a ghost then I will fight back like one.” His eyes turned green again as a threat. As a promise.
“I don’t take orders from spooks!” The agent shouted, securing his finger on the trigger and preparing to fire. Star had ducked to avoid the blast so she missed exactly what happened. All she saw was the green glow and heard a strangled scream from the agent followed by a series of thumps. By the time Star had gotten back into her seat, Danny was aggressively pulling apart the ectogun with his bare hands. There was no sign of the agent and, around them, the ghost shield fizzled away.
“Jerks,” Danny grumbled, kicking at the remains of the ectogun he’d destroyed. “Sorry about that, Mr. Faluca. I knew they’d cause problems but I didn’t think they’d come to school.” Their teacher stared at Danny like a rabbit facing down a lion. “You okay?”
“Fine, Mr. Fenton, just fine!” Falcua grinned in a high pitched voice. “Shall we get back to our quizzes?” The bell rang just then and Danny did a little fist pump.
“Tomorrow then? After I get a chance to study more?” Danny asked with puppy dog eyes. It looked wrong on his face that had just threatened the government with bodily harm. Faluca just nodded dumbly, not sure what else to say. “Yes! I’ll pass tomorrow for sure. The attention kinda sucks but it does come with some perks.”
He walked back to his desk, ignoring the wide-eyed looks of the class when he stopped and gasped, his breath fogging in front of him. His lips pursed again with annoyance. A few people jumped in surprise as the Box Ghost, a familiar annoyance, poked his head through the wall.
“Child! Your requested reprieve is up and the Box Ghost is here to cause insurmountable square shenanigans!” He laughed heartily, stopping when the room temperature dropped again. Danny didn’t even turn to face the ghost.
“Your watch is off, Boxy. I have another 10 hours before I have to deal with you annoyances again,” Danny growled. “I’m feeling good right now, take advantage of it and leave in one piece.”
“Uh right okay then,” the ghost stammered, sinking back into the wall. “See you tomorrow.” Danny cracked his neck before he walked to his desk, grabbed his things and walked to the front of the room.
“Late bell’s gonna ring any minute, you guys should hurry if you don’t wanna be late,” Danny said as he left. Falcua’s strength gave out as soon as Fenton was gone and he hit the floor, one hand clutching at his chest.
“Jeepers,” Mikey surmised appropriately before stuffing his things in his bag and leaving as well. Star watched everyone loosen up themselves and begin gathering their things to leave. No, she would never like Danny Fenton but he and his ghost weirdness was just part of the deal now, whether they wanted it or not. Such was life in the most haunted city in America which was only haunted by a single ghostly entity.
#feral danny my beloved#i wasn't going to continue Half Of but I was Inspired (tm)#In an AU where Fenton and Phantom aren't known to be the same#Danny lets all his unholy elderich nightmare self out as Fenton and keeps Phantom as cute and friendly as possible#also Danny didnt kill the GIW agent lol#just intangibly threw the bastard outside and took his gun#I was inspired (obviously) by the implication of Danny being the only ghost to truly haunt amity#that any other ghost there is only there bc Danny allows them in#that you can come to Phantom's haunt but you must follow his rule or its Death 2.0 The Trauma Edition#also I lost my shit writing insurmountable square shenanigans so please appreciate it#I actually had two whole paragraphs on Star being sensitive to otherworldly things how it ran in her family#then decided that it kinda distracted from the story so i took it it out#but Its still somethng interesting#explains just why she dislikes danny so much (from what we saw in canon) compared to other A listers who tolerate him at least
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The boy who lived and the professor that didn’t (for the most part)
AO3
During Harry's second year at Hogwarts, a strange and unexpected man starts teaching his Defence Against the Dark Arts class.
(A Danny Phantom X Harry Potter crossover)
Chapter 1
Harry took a seat in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, glancing over to Ron who sat beside him and then scanning the classroom for their new DA professor. He already met the man in Diagon Alley, blonde and very much interested in only himself. Harry shivered as he remembered being pushed towards him as people took pictures of the famous wizard and the boy who lived.
At least it wasn’t worse than a head of the dark lord growing out of the back of the professor's neck.
Well- Harry did thumb through some of the textbooks before classes started. He absolutely agreed with Hermione who was very vocal about the books- they didn’t actually seem to teach anything. Just spoke about the ‘many adventures of Gilderoy Lockhart’.
Maybe this will just end up being an easy class.
The door slammed open 15 minutes past the start of class, startling the students as they swiveled their heads to look at the newcomer, expecting Gilderoy Lockhart.
Instead a tall man with a slim frame and hunched posture strode into the room. He had messy black hair pulled in a very horrible and tangled loose bun with the remaining dreads lazily dangling at the man's shoulders, his chin and cheeks covered in unshaven stubble. His robe was creased and torn, his hat loosely hanging from his hand and his sleeves pushed almost all the way up his arms. What really caught people’s attention was those eyes. Unnaturally clear and bright icy blue, so blue that even in the bright light they seemed to slightly glow.
He quickly pulled down his sleeves as he walked past the students towards the front of the room, grumbling slightly under his breath about something Harry couldn’t catch. He tossed the hat aside, muttering more loudly about how ‘wizard hats are so stupid and impractical I’m not wearing that garbage’ before he turned towards the class.
“My name is Fenton- er Professor Fenton I guess. Since I’ll be teaching you about…” he glanced down at the podium he stood in front of, crouching a little as if looking for something before straightening back up. “Defense… Against the… Dark… Arts,” he said slowly and not very confidently. Then he whispered again to himself but just loud enough for some students to pick up, “they see me fight one god damn ghost and suddenly I’m an expert on all dark magic entities? I think I’ll fight Dumbledore after this.” He straightened a little, eyes looking over the classes.
Harry did not like those eyes lingering on him for half a second longer than the others. He didn’t like this professor looking at him at all.
Something just didn’t feel right.
“Alright, any questions?”
A hand immediately went up, and Harry knew exactly who it belonged to.
“Uh- yes miss-?”
“Hermione Granger. Wasn’t our professor supposed to be Gilderoy Lockhart?”
“Yeah- that guy. He’s a phoney.”
The class went silent before someone yelled out, “WHAT?”
“Guy went around, found Wizards and Witches that did cool things, made them forget it then took all the credit. Tried to take my credit and I hit him a little too hard. Now I’m here taking his place. It’s all over the news, you know. You can read the exaggerated details in there. Anything else?”
The same hand went up.
Professor Fenton sighed, “yes?”
“Why were you 15 minutes late? Shouldn’t professors be on time? And why do you look like you crawled out of the forbidden forest.”
“I fought a ghost. Then got lost,” Fenton deadpanned.
The class went silent.
Fenton then turned around, “well if that’s all, let’s get started with something I know a lot about. What do you already know about Ghosts?”
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“You’re seriously more afraid of Professor Fenton than Professor Snape?” Hermione asked Ron. “He’s not even mean! Sure he’s grumpy but he doesn’t beat down every question I ask him! He even seems to be glad I’m asking questions! Unlike Professor Snape who just treats us like idiots for not knowing something.”
“Sure- he’s not mean or cruel but… he just freaks me out. Like how he just stares sometimes at empty walls! Or how the room temperature always drops the moment he seems to take a single step into the room! I can’t even hear his footsteps when he walks! He’s bloody freaky is what he is!”
“Well I for one am glad he’s our Professor! Imagine having a phony for a professor! Though he talks a lot about ghosts. Ghosts can’t cause people harm. At most they give a little scare but it’s not like they could cause terrible damage.”
“What about those ectoplasm based ones he was talking about? The solid ones?” Harry asked.
“Rare and unlikely. Ectoplasm doesn’t form in the magical world, Harry! The stuff that leaks through and hangs in the air is only enough to allow ghosts like Nick or Myrtle to hang around in harmless ways.”
“But he said he fought a ghost before he arrived in class! And he looked really beat up!”
“He said he got lost too! Maybe he just stumbled across a guard dog like Fluffy and made up something about ghosts!”
“What if it’s like the last professor though? What if he’s looking for another secret object in Hogwarts walls?” Harry hissed softly, “Ron is right that he just has a sense of oddness about him! I just don’t trust him!”
“Harry, you’re just paranoid from last year. Professor Fenton is normal. Now pick up your pace, we’re going to be late for our next class!”
-
-
-
Professor Fenton glanced down at Harry, then back at Professor McGonagall, “he has what with me?”
“Detention. You see, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley caused a bit of a fuss by driving a flying car in plain sight of several muggles, and risked exposing the magical world. As such, his punishment has been detention. I trust you can find some fitting work for him to do as he reflects on his actions?”
Fenton crosses his arms, his mouth tightening slightly into a grimace as his fingers slightly tapped his own arms. “This won’t be every night, will it?” He asked.
“No, we will be switching supervisors for a few weeks but you may also need to supervise Mr. Weasley sometime before then.”
Fenron let out a sigh of defeat, “well- alright. I’ll take care of it then.”
Professor McGonagall gave a curt nod before turning stiffly and walking off. Professor Fenton scratched at the back of his neck as he watched her walk off, then glanced down at Harry, those eyes seeming to search him for… something. Then that stern look relaxed into a lopsided grin, “So you were the one that made that stuck up ministry trip over their hats and scramble around in blind panic! I say, hats off to you young Potter!” He laughed.
Harry blinked in confusion at the shift in mood, then Fenton patted him on the back, “hey, no need to look so freaked out! I’m not gonna bite ya!” He began walking forward, and it took Harry an extra second to realize that the professor was moving and he should follow. “Oh, wait you probably are a little freaked out, huh? I guess my mood could have been a bit better this morning, I was just a little flabbergasted today. I was kinda rushed into this position, you know.” He shrugged, his hands shoved into his cloak’s pockets. He didn’t really walk like any of the other Hogwarts professors. He had this relaxed saunter, like he was more of a visiting relative than a staff member. “Say, let’s say your ‘punishment’ will just be helping me bring some books from the library to my quarters. There’s a lot I need to run through and a single trip would make all the difference.”
Harry nodded, finding it hard to keep up with the man's long strides. “So… you don’t like the ministry of magic?” Harry asked.
Professor Fenton huffed in annoyance, “not one bit. They are almost worse than observants!” Harry had no idea what those were. Another level of magic government? “They try to control every little thing. Don’t expose magic to the normal world. Don’t use magic to make technology without permission. Don’t use magic to save muggle children if people are watching.” His said in a mocking tone, “they have so many rules that are outdated or stupid. Never trust a government, kid! Especially a magical one!”
“What are… observants?”
Fenton glanced down at Harry, “oh those stuck up jerks? They are like the government of the ghost realm. Really annoying. Unlike the Ministry of Magic, they actually know how to find me!” He laughed.
“Ghosts have governments?”
“Oh yeah! They have more of a monarchy, the observants are like hermit wizards that only step in when they believe the world is in peril. Meanwhile the rest falls on the shoulders of the Ghost King.”
Harry frowned, “I’ve never read about that in the textbooks. Hermione says that ghosts are just harmless beings formed from souls that aren’t ready to leave the mortal realm.”
“Well she’s half right. There’s different kinds of ghosts, like Sir Nicolas and the Bloody Baron. They are more like echoes. Souls that cling desperately to this world but didn’t have enough ectoplasm to become a fully solid ectoplasmic being. They won’t leave for the infinite realms until they are ready, though many believe they are trapped here forever. More solid ghosts form in a similar way but are exposed to more ectoplasm, but rarely show up because natural portals to the infinite realms are sparse and in between. Well until about a decade ago.”
“Infinite Realms? Natural Portals?” Harry felt like his head was going to explode.
“Well, there should be some books about that in the muggle section.. Though some wizards would say it’s all garbage because muggles discovered and studied it. Just look up my name under the author and you should find some.”
“Oh… wait- did you write them? Is that why you know so much about ghosts?”
Professor Fenton barked out a loud laugh, doubling over as he clutched his sides, “Ah! No! No, I didn’t write them! My parents did!” He cackled. “Ah, yeah but I did learn from them. And a bit of field work. Tell Miss Granger to check them out too, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind having something to read. She reminds me of my sister in that way.” He stopped in front of the library doors, “Aha! I knew we would find this place eventually!”
Harry looked at Professor Fenton in bewilderment, “you didn’t know where we were going?!”
Fenton shook his head and shot him another grin, “nope! I’ve been constantly getting lost in these dumb halls. This place constantly moves and I absolutely hate it. Even the Infinite Realms make more sense than this castle!”
Harry stuttered, “If the infinite realms is where ghosts go, isn’t that like… the afterlife? You’ve been to the afterlife?”
Professor Fenton lazily shrugged and opened the doors to the library, “yes and no. It’s all complicated. I’ll tell you a different time.”
Harry stood there for a few more seconds as his brain tried to catch up with the information, and once he managed to close his mouth he chased after the Professor.
-
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-
Harry glanced around the Professors room as he followed after him, arms filled with books that seemed to suspiciously be only about the Dark Arts. He’d never been to a professor's living quarters, at most he had been in some offices. Even so, it was not at all what he imagined a wizard's living quarters would look like.
First off, there seemed to be technology. He recognized a coffee machine on a low table, but it wasn’t plugged into anything. There was an odd box that looked like a slightly smaller television, it’s screen black and wires sticking out of it attached to a rectangular box with a lot of buttons on top of it and a small round device. There was also a radio, and a huge telescope leaning out the largest window. As Harry looked, he began to notice spaceships literally in every corner of the room. Different kinds as well, some would even move and blast off. The most amazing part was the roof of his room. It was almost exactly like the great hall as it rose into dark nothingness, but the stars were MUCH brighter and all the constellations had been traced out, some brighter than others. For someone who knew a lot about ghosts, he seemed to really like space. Then there were also some odd things thrown around, like a very weird looking thermos. Or a metal… boomerang?
“Just place them over here, Harry!” Fenton called as he dropped his pile of books onto a couch in the corner. Harry did as he was told, placing the books down a little more gently than the professor did.
“Professor… how did you get these things to work? Technology usually… explodes around magic,” Harry asked.
“Oh! Well it’s because I power them myself!” Professor Fenton chirped. “They don’t work the same way as regular technology. Again, I recommend checking out some of the notes in the Fentons books, they have a lot of stuff that works in the magical realm.”
“Why would you need it though? Doesn’t magic make up for a lot of technology?” Harry asked.
“Ah, but that’s where you are wrong you see! There is nothing in the magical world that is equivalent to the coffee machine!”
Harry blinked, “... what.”
“It’s a very important machine, Harry. You will depend greatly on it once you need to stay up for an entire week. But! It seems our time together has come to an end. Thanks for your help, Harry, and if McGonagall asks, tell her I made you scrub toilets or something,” he winked.
Harry grinned back, heading towards the doorway to go find Ron and Hermione. He closed the door behind and the moment it clicked shut, he saw a flash appear from under the door.
He paused slightly, but shrugged. Maybe a comet passed by on the enchanted roof of his room. He then headed down the halls to find his friends.
-
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“Not normally invited?” Harry asked.
Hermione nodded, “Ghosts throw death day parties like birthday parties, but rarely do they ever invite living people!”
“I see, so Sir Nick really wanted us to be there,” Harry pondered as the trio entered the party area. He immediately was hit with an awful stench, nearly gagging before he had to swallow it as Sir Nicholas noticed their arrival and approached swiftly with the widest smile they had ever seen on his face.
“Harry! Ron! Hermione! You all made it! Oh this brings such joy to my cold, dead heart!”
“Glad to see you as well, Sir Nick,” Harry struggled not to gag on the smell.
“Say, why do ghosts even celebrate the day they died? Isn’t that… like a very traumatic experience you would rather not remember?” Ron somehow managed to ask.
“Well, ghosts like to celebrate it to commodirate a start to a new chapter of our afterlife!” He paused, glancing across the room for a split second, “most ghosts that is, and the death day isn’t to remind us of our death. It more serves to encourage us to look forward! No one really wants to remember how we died. Never a pretty picture.”
Harry followed Nicholas’s gaze for the split second glance, then noticed a ghost he had never seen before. He ignored the smell (they would have to ask about that later) and nudged Hermione, pointing at the ghost, “hey Hermione, have you ever seen that ghost around the castle before? I don’t remember seeing him from last year…”
The ghost in question seemed so much stranger than the rest, he had a brighter glow, where he should have had legs, merged into what seemed to be a ghostly tail, drifting lazily like caught in a breeze. Long hair whiter than snow itself drifted around like caught underwater, and bits that weren’t drifting were braided neatly and lost in the rest of it as it constantly moved. The ghost had purple skin, pointed ears, green freckles dotting his cheeks and long sharp fangs showing as he laughed at another ghost's joke. He dressed like a medieval lord, wearing a delicately detailed black and white tunic tucked into a braided belt circling his waist, his ghostly tail completely black. Thick white leather gloves covered both his hands as he waved them around while he spoke. A white cape hung off his shoulders, but when the cape occasionally drifted to show the inside, it was like the ghost had taken the night sky and attached it to the garment. Thick fur wrapped around his shoulders and long and sharp horns that looked like ice circled his head like a crown.
Toxic green eyes that had irises that seemed to swirl around the pupil glanced at the trio and Harry suddenly felt very very small.
“I… don’t know. I haven’t even heard of any ghost that looked like him before,” Hermione seemed like she was at a loss, probably scouting through her thoughts and memories for any trace or mention of the unfamiliar ghost.
Sir Nicholas cut in, “oh! That may be because King Phantom doesn’t live in this castle! He’s mainly only here to visit for the year!”
Ron gapped, “... did you say… king? Was he a king before he died?”
Sir Nicholas frowned, “no, of course not! He’s the king of all ghosts! King of the infinite realms! The one who defeated Pariah Dark in single combat barely a year after he died! The youngest and most beloved king we ghosts have had in such a very long time.”
“There’s a king of ghosts? And that’s him?” Harry asked.
“That’s what I just said, my dear boy. Keep up!”
“I don’t want to seem rude, Sir Nicholas but… why is he here?” Hermione gasped, “if he really is such a powerful and imposing figure, doesn’t he have a lot of duties to fulfil?”
“Well, he told us he was technically here on business but that it requires time and an investigation that could take a few months. So he could visit and celebrate with us from time to time! He’s a very relaxed man, I assure you. Here let me introduce you all to him! My Liege! I have some friends you absolutely must meet!”
The King looked over and smiled widely, “friends, you say?” His voice echoed more than the other ghosts, seeming to carry across the room as he spoke. He then blinked in surprise and turned to Nick, “Sir Nicholas… you realize these three are still amongst the living?”
“Why of course! Harry is the Boy Who Lived! The first to survive the death spell!” Sir Nicholas said quite proudly.
The King drifted down towards the three, causing Ron to slightly flinch at his approach, his hands clasped together as worry seemed to etch on his face, “well, most ghosts don’t have a very good sense of smell or taste, right? Which is why we have all the rotting food out?”
“Yes?” Sir Nicholas still didn’t seem to catch on.
King Phantom held out his hand, producing clothing hanger clips made purely of ice, “The living can still very much smell and taste, and I don’t think it’s exactly the smell of roses and lavender.”
Sir Nicholas blinked, “oh. Oh! Oh Harry and friends, I apologize for forgetting such a detail!”
Harry, Ron and Hermione all graciously accept the clips, pinning them on their noses to escape the horrid smell. Then Hermione turned towards the Ghost King with a glint in her eyes, “wait- how did you do that? Ghosts aren’t this solid- and they definitely can’t use magic!”
Phantom chuckled, drifting back into the air as he pointed to the crown of ice horns on his head, “Well first off, I’m the king so I get some bonuses. As well as not all ghosts work the same. You should try listening to that Dark Arts professor of yours when he talks about ghosts. He’s quite knowledgeable about all things not living.”
“But- but years of documentation and research-!” Hermione tried to argue before the King tutted.
“Information is constantly changing and growing, something that seems pretty constant could change in seconds and turn your whole world upside down. Not to mention, many different types of ghosts like myself only became more common recently. Before, most of us were confined to the infinite realms, only ghosts like Sir Nicholas forming for many centuries and the different kinds rarely slipped out.”
“Well-, what changed?” Hermione challenged.
King Phantom sported a playful grin, “I d̶͙͉̓̓i̷̢̩̬̘̟̽ę̴̘̲̹̤͌̊d̸̢̳̞̄.”
He then turned and left the three on that note as he went to join other ghosts at the party.
“What does he mean by that?” Hermione huffed.
“He’s got an odd sense of humour, that’s for sure,” Sir Nicholas laughed.
-
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Harry couldn’t stop his glare that shot towards Professor Snape as he accused Harry of petrifying Mrs. Norris and writing the bloody message that stained the wall. Before he could snap back at him that he did not do any of this, Professor Fenton seemed to almost step out of thin air to his defense.
“Mr. Potter was with me all night, he did not do this,” his voice laced with a chilling venom. Was he… lying for him?
Snape tilted his chin up, attempting to look down on Fenton who was no longer hunched, and instead stood tall at his full height. It was quite difficult to do as it turned out, Fenton towered over every other Professor in the area. “And who, pray tell, are you?” Snape seemed to almost spit.
A sinister grin spread across the tall Professor's features as he stepped in front of Harry, leaning menacingly over the shorter wizard and blocking his view of the student, “Professor Fenton, the professor of the Dark Arts. Accusing a second year of such a powerful spell isn’t a very wise take, now is it Professor Snape?” Fenton basically spat his name.
Snape glared back, “you would be surprised what Potter is capable of, especially the trouble he gets himself in.”
“How about you try not pinning the blame on a 12 year old child?”
“That is enough out of both of you,” Dumbledore stepped in. “We all know Harry was not responsible for this, as Professor Fenton’s defence is true. We have a healthy patch of mandrake roots that will cure Mrs. Norris of her petrification, and students will resume their classes while the professors investigate the issue. Now you three will return to your dorms for the rest of the night.”
Harry hesitated before he headed back towards the dorms, but didn’t fail to notice how Professor Fenton’s eyes flashed toxic green, or the wink sent in his direction.
#harry potter#danny phantom#fic#crossover#crossover fic#my writing#adult danny#the boy who lived and the professor that didn't (for the most part)#Danny is a DA professor#saw harry potter danny phantom crossover#then saw teacher au#and was like#WHAT IF#HE WAS A MAGIC TEACHER?#and here we are#more tags in the ao3 link#danny is a ghost king#hes always king fight me#dumbledore saw him beat up and expose lockhart#and said#ghost king rules#this man now has the job#Danny befriends the other ghosts#mixing in both ghost lore
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Lightning
fanfiction
hi im still on this also im too lazy to put this on ao3 since the rest of dannymay2020 is only on ffn knjbhgv
Lightning flashed above the trees as Danny ran through the forest. His feet slapped through the mud and the rain plastered his hair to his face.
His powers were shorted out and the hunters pursuing him were gaining on him. He couldn’t last much longer just running through the dark, slippery forest. He’d have to find somewhere to hide eventually.
As he passed another tree, the woods opened up into a small clearing. He could see a small pavilion-picnic structure before the path led to a parking lot further away. This was going to be his best shot for now. He slowed as he walked closer to it, looking for a way in when he suddenly walked into someone’s chest.
Panic shooting through his chest, Danny punched the person in the stomach and tried to dart away before they grabbed onto his arms.
“What the fuck… Fenton?”
Danny looked up with wide eyes into Dash Baxter’s face. He could cry from both relief and dismay right now.
“Why do you look like you’re being chased by ghosts?” Dash paused. “Are you being chased by ghosts?”
Danny shook his head. “Not ghosts.” He panted. “Hunters.”
Dash’s eyes widened. “Hunters? Why are hunters chasing you? Are they serial killers?”
“They’re ghost hunters. They’ve been chasing me for 30 minutes-”
“Why are ghost hunters chasing you?” Dash asked, his brows furrowed.
“That’s not important.” Danny said as he began to look around again. “I need to find somewhere to hide before-”
The rustling of bushes could be heard coming from the direction Danny had run from. Whispers made their way through the rain towards them.
“Shit!” Danny whispered.
Then Danny was being pushed towards the room in the pavilion. “Dash, there’s no time. It’ll take too long for us to open-” Danny stopped as Dash opened the door and shoved him inside. “-it.”
Dash started pulling off his letterman jacket and the hoodie he was wearing underneath it. He handed both to Danny. “Put these on.”
“What?”
“Put them on! You don’t want them to recognize you, right?”
Danny looked at Dash for a moment before shoving both the oversized hoodie and letterman jacket over his small frame. Once he had the letterman jacket situated, he felt Dash pull the hood up over his head.
“Okay, so here’s what we’re gonna do if they come in here. We’re-”
Both Danny and Dash looked over Dash’s shoulder as they heard the doorknob rattle.
Dash turned back to Danny and got real close, pushing him against the wall.
“We have to pretend to makeout.”
“What?” Danny looked up at him.
“What else are two teenagers gonna be doing here in the middle of the night? They won’t ask us any questions if they think we’ve been macking on each other the whole time.”
“Like a fakeout makeout?”
“Yeah?” Dash looked down at him. “Why do you have a name for that-”
The door opened behind Dash and he pushed himself even closer to Danny, his face inches from his own. Dash’s hand came to rest against his cheek and the two men who entered the room started talking.
“I don’t think he’ll be here. The ectoplasm readings aren’t high enough and-” The man who was speaking paused and Danny felt himself tense up. “See I told you. It’s just some teenagers who are probably from Amity Park. All those people there have small ecto signatures, it was too low to be that ghost.”
Dash jumped and turned around to face them, faking embarrassment.
The other man scoffed. “He couldn’t have gotten far, he couldn’t fly.” The man looked at the two of them. “Have either of you kids seen a ghost around here? White hair? Weird jumpsuit outfit?”
Danny felt Dash tense up at the mention of his ghost half’s description. “No, we haven’t seen any ghosts since we left Amity Park. Is there a dangerous one roaming around out here?”
The first man nodded. “We’ve been following a level eight ghost for about a mile and a half now. We’re worried about it getting back to town.”
“Huh. Well we haven’t seen anything. But, I think we,” Dash grabbed Danny by the waist and pulled him to his side, “are going to head back into town. We wouldn’t want to get mauled out here where no one can find us.”
“What about your friend there? Has he seen anything? He’s been awfully quiet.” The second man said, leveling a look at Danny.
“Oh him?” Dash laughed nervously. “He’s mute. He doesn’t talk, but he’s been with me the whole time so he wouldn’t have seen anything either.”
The man pursed his lips. “Okay, well, have a nice night you two. Stay safe in that weather out there.”
“Thanks!” Dash said as he waved at them. “You too!”
He pulled away from Danny and grabbed him by the hand, quickly pulling him out of the building and towards his car. He didn’t pull away until he had shoved Danny into the passenger seat of his car and was heading around to the driver’s seat.
Danny watched the men walk out of the building as they drove away. The further away they got, the more Danny relaxed into the seat.
He let out a breath and looked over at Dash. “Thanks, I would’ve been toast without you there. You should drive around town a bit just in case they decide to follow us.”
Dash glanced at Danny before turning his eyes back to the road. “Why were they looking for Phantom?”
Danny paused. “What?”
“Phantom. Ghost with white hair, weird jumpsuit outfit.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on, Fenton!” Dash shouted. “Don’t lie to me! Were you just hanging out with him? Why didn’t he stay with you? Why didn’t he try to keep them off of your trail? Were you protecting him?”
“I don’t know why they thought I looked like Phantom. They were chasing me, not him.”
“That doesn’t even make sense. How would they confuse you for Phantom? You don’t even-” Dash paused as Wes’s words crawled through his brain, insisting to the whole student body that Danny was Phantom. Dash’s mouth dropped open and he slammed on the breaks, coming to a sudden stop in the middle of the road.
Danny braced himself against his seat and the door. “Dash! What the hell!”
“You really are Phantom, aren’t you?” Dash said, facing Danny.
“No, I’m not.” Danny said, glaring at Dash.
“Oh, shove it. Why else would they describe Phantom when they were chasing you through the forest? You realize that doesn’t make sense, right?”
“So, what, I tell you I’m Phantom so you can call me a freak and tell the school?” Danny scoffed. “Yeah, right. No thanks.”
Dash stared at Danny, his expression dropping. “You really think I’d tell the whole school?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t you?” Danny mumbled back.
Dash continued to stare at Danny. “Because they would hurt you.”
Danny let out a dry laugh.
“What? Why do you think I stopped wondering where you hung out when you weren’t fighting ghosts? I’m not stupid enough to ignore all the ghosts and ghost hunters that have it out for your neck!” Dash sighed. “The longer the GIW were in Amity Park the more I realized the kind of danger you were in.”
Danny’s gaze flicked over to Dash.
“It wasn’t even just the GIW. Your parents-” Dash’s mouth dropped open again. “What the fuck! Your parents! They hunt you!”
“They don’t know.”
“Well no shit!” Dash ran a hand through his hair. “Holy shit.”
“Listen, Dash, while I would love to keep exposing my deepest secrets to you, I’d really like to get out of this forest.”
“Right, right.” Dash sat forward in his seat again, driving forward.
Silence settled over them, Danny staring out his window and Dash flicking his gaze to the other boy frequently.
They finally made it back into town and Dash drove up and down and around the different streets a couple times before finally pulling up in front of Fentonworks.
Danny sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Finally. Thanks, for, you know.” He was about to get out of the car when he paused, looking down at the jacket and hoodie he was still wearing. “Here, I almost forgot-” Danny started shrugging out of the letterman jacket when Dash stopped him.
“It’s still raining. You can borrow them and give them back to me on Monday.”
Danny’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure? Don’t you want something to wear in the rain?”
Dash shrugged. “I’ll be fine. I think I have another hoodie buried in here somewhere.”
“Okay, well.” Danny grabbed the door handle. “Bye.” He quickly climbed out of the car and darted up the stairs to the front door. Before he closed it, he turned back to Dash and waved goodbye and shut the door.
Dash waited a few seconds before taking a deep breath and he started to drive away.
He had a feeling he wouldn’t be getting the sight of Danny in his jacket out of his head anytime soon.
#gorgi writes#danny phantom#dannymay2020#danny fenton#dash baxter#swagger bishie#fanfic#fic#fanfiction#phic#hi guys im still chugging away at this#my goal is to be done before this years dannymay starts njkhbg#i pulled this fic straight out of my butt i had no notes or plans#except for a spur of the moment line#which was the first one in the fic kjnbhg
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Hobbies
Phic phight! @idiot-cheesehead-archenemy
A series of vignettes about Danny having various hobbies.
(Master the Orb)
Danny exhaled slowly as the ice built up between his hands. Each new layer glittered in the ghostlight cast by the overhead ambient ectoplasm, embedding complex patterns in the overall piece as new layers built up over it.
“Very good, Great One,” rumbled Frostbite behind his shoulder. “Your control has improved immensely.”
Danny inhaled equally slowly, examining his work so far but not adding to it quite yet. “I don’t know. It looks a little lopsided.”
“Mmm, it looks fine to me. Especially for such an early attempt.”
Danny sighed, exhaling the ice he had built up with his breath. “So, it is lopsided.”
“Consider it practice,” said Frostbite, encouragingly. “It takes time to master art of any kind.”
“Humans do ice sculpture, too,” mumbled Danny. “They get really good, too. I’ve seen pictures. And videos. They don’t even have ice powers.” He rubbed his thumb over the surface, smoothing over a slightly rougher patch.
“That may be true,” said Frostbite, “but, again, you just started, Great One. You have only had your powers for a little while. Give yourself some support.”
Danny shrugged. “I guess it isn’t something my life depends on, so I can relax about it.” He built up another layer of ice. “This is oddly therapeutic, and I don’t say therapeutic lightly. You know Jazz.”
“I do indeed,” said Frostbite, somewhat ruefully, head half-bowed.
Jazz could be a force of nature, even more so than ice powers.
He held the ice orb up to the light. It caught on the patterns he had placed there. Fractals were the easiest. He was hoping that if he got better, he’d be able to make real sculptures with patterns in them, instead of just orbs.
But, first, he had to master the orb. Just like how when drawing you had to do circles first. Circle. Orb.
Ooorb. Yep.
The controlled application of ice. The evenness of the internal patterns. The solidity, density, and durability.
His orb was… not very orblike, despite what Frostbite said. Frostbite probably thought he was making so flat on purpose.
Yeah. He was terrible at this.
He was having fun, though.
.
.
(Furnace)
“You’re taking up glass blowing?” asked Tucker, surprised.
“Yeah? Is there a problem?” asked Danny, reaching over to stop his friend from accidentally drawing a line of orange sharpie across his poster on the themes in Macbeth.
“No!” said Tucker, quickly. “But, like, why? It just seems… unlike you.”
“Exactly,” said Danny, nodding sharply. “It has absolutely nothing to do with my powers and nothing to do with my family. Plus, I had a coupon.”
“For glass blowing?”
“It was a groupon,” said Danny. “For making Christmas tree ornaments. I’m going to do it with Jazz.”
“But, Danny,” said Sam, looking over from where she was working on her own poster about Twelfth Night, “glass blowing, uh, involves a lot of heat.”
“Sure?”
“Danny, you have an ice core.”
“Ah,” said Danny. “Well. I’ve got to use that groupon. If it doesn’t work out, it’s only the once, right?”
.
“Oh my gosh,” said Danny, wringing sweat out of his t-shirt. “That was awesome!” He giggled to himself and peaked into the annealer again. “So awesome!”
“Uh huh,” said Jazz. Her attempts had been… rather less successful than Danny’s, partially because she was trying so hard to make them perfect. But she had managed a few little baubles, nonetheless. “I think these’ll all be good for the tree. Assuming we get one.”
“And it isn’t set on fire.”
“Oh, yeah, that was a bad year.”
He squeaked open the annealer again, only closing it when the instructor lightly scolded him. “They’re so terrible and lopsided,” said Danny.
“Hey,” said Jazz. “Mine are fine.”
“I know! I was talking about mine.”
“Ah, okay then. I agree.”
“You aren’t supposed to agree.”
“What, you want me to lie? And after you said it first?”
“No,” said Danny. “But you could be nicer about it.”
“I’m your sister, what do you expect?”
.
.
(Lung Capacity)
Danny let the last note trail off to complete silence. He stared apprehensively at the assembled student body. Curse Mr. Lancer’s extra credit talent show assignment. Any minute now, they’d start laughing at him.
What was he thinking? He’d just watched a few YouTube tutorials on breath control, and he thought he could come up here and sing in front of people? He was a moron, and—
Sam and Tucker started cheering wildly, followed rapidly by everyone else in the gym.
Okay. What?
Sam and Tucker, following impulses known only to overexcited teenagers, swarmed up the stage and attacking Danny.
“Why didn’t you tell us you could sing like that?” demanded Sam.
“When did you learn?” asked Tucker, doing his level best to noogie Danny. “Why did you learn?”
“I wanted to improve my, you know, wail,” muttered Danny, “and all the breath control YouTube videos either had to do with diving or singing, so…” He did a little head wiggle to illustrate his point and also dislodge Tucker.
“I just can’t believe you kept this a secret from us,” said Sam.
Danny snorted and took a sort of half bow before attempting to leave the stage. “My dudes, I am basically made of secrets.”
“Encore!” screamed someone who clearly hated him.
“Oh, no,” said Danny, bracing himself against Sam and Tucker who were pushing him back into the middle of the stage. “No encore. I don’t do encores.”
But now people were chanting. Chanting.
“Come on, Danny,” said Tucker. “Just once!”
“Yeah, these are your fifteen minutes of fame!”
“I had those already! Multiple times!”
“That was Poindexter.”
“And now it can be you.”
Danny reluctantly took the microphone back off the stand.
.
.
(Letterhead)
The ink was thick, almost creamy, and paint-like. It was the ectoplasm mix, which also gave it a rich, rosy glow.
Danny was practicing ghost calligraphy. Well, one particular subset of ghost calligraphy, one which put special emphasis on the color of the letters as well as how they fit together.
It was a totally useless hobby. But it was… not exactly calming. No. He’d gotten way too angry about poorly formed arcs and crooked lines a couple of times. So. Yeah. Not calming. But… meditative. Meditative. And there was something satisfying about seeing the finished product.
Plus, if he framed his better finished work, they made for good presents for weirdo ghosts.
“You misspelled this,” drawled Ghost Writer.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Keuwii only has one kei.”
“This is only one kei.”
“What’s this, then?”
“It’s a flourish.”
“A flourish.”
Danny rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s a critic. If you don’t want it—”
“I didn’t say that.”
Danny raised an eyebrow.
Ghost Writer made a show of rolling his eyes. “Very well. Do you have one for my half-brother Randy. Perhaps one that says something along the lines of ‘idiot?’”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
.
.
(Babies on Fire)
“Danny,” said Jazz. “What are you doing up at three in the morning with a lighter? And… yarn? Is that yarn?”
“Dad wanted me to learn how to sew,” said Danny, “but I don’t like needles, not the sharp ones, anyway.”
“You get stitches every other week,” pointed out Jazz.
“Exactly,” said Danny, gesturing with the lighter. “So, I decided to look into, you know, knitting. And I was on knitting websites, and having, you know, a pretty good time with that, but then I found out about the babies.”
“The babies.”
“The babies,” said Danny, seriously. “And the blankets that are on fire. It depends on the yarn, you see. If the yarn is the wrong kind of yarn, if it catches on fire, the blanket can melt onto the baby. It’s terrible. Just terrible.”
“I kind of think that if the blanket is on fire you have bigger problems,” said Jazz. She took a step closer to her obviously insane younger brother. “Are you… testing the yarn?”
“I have to, Jazz. It’s for the babies.”
“Alright,” said Jazz. “You are going to limit it to just the yarn in our house, right?”
“But we don’t have any babies.”
“Okay, that didn’t answer my question, but, like…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Since we don’t have any babies here, why are you testing the yarn?”
“Because we might have babies here in the future,” said Danny. “Or I might knit something and give it to someone as a gift and then they give it to their baby. Oh my gosh, I’d feel so guilty.”
“I’d be more worried about the toxic waste in our basement,” said Jazz, which was exactly the wrong thing to say to a sleep-deprived half-ghost on the edge of an Obsession-fueled breakdown. Danny vanished in a blur, trailing yarn behind him. Jazz, who had only gotten up for a glass of water, cursed under her breath.
.
.
(Before the Ball)
“I’m so, so sorry, Dora,” said Danny, holding back something adjacent to laughter.
Dora laughed, more openly. “It is fine, Sir Phantom. Even now, you are better than my brother.”
“Am I really? Your brother? Who was raised to do this?”
“Well,” said Dora, letting go and stepping back out of the range of Danny’s feet. Which were, evidently, both left feet. “No, I’m afraid, but it is amusing to say, isn’t it?” She pressed her fingers to her lips, suppressing more laughter.
“Yeah, it is,” admitted Danny.
“In any case, you are far more graceful concerning your mistakes than he ever was. More gallant. A better representative of chivalry altogether.” She patted the shoulders of his shirt.
“Thanks,” said Danny. “Do you think that I’ll be, uh, ready in time for the party?”
“It’s more than a party,” said Dora. “You’re being officially knighted. You’ll be a peer of the realm.”
“Aha,” said Danny. “Yeah. I don’t… what? Really? That’s a thing?”
“You thought I was joking?”
“No,” said Danny, drawing out the word. He had, in fact, thought she was joking and only accepted her offer to teach him how to dance because he thought it sounded like fun and like it might take his mind off his problems. “Of course not. So. Dancing. Important. For first impressions?”
“Everyone already knows you, Phantom,” said the knight assigned as Dora’s bodyguard. “But dancing is surprisingly useful for swordplay. Which you need all the help you can get at.”
“You said I was getting better.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re good.”
“Ouch.”
.
.
(Time)
“I don’t have time for a hobby,” complained Danny through the Fenton Phones. “Maybe if the ghosts let up a bit—” He zapped one of said ghosts.
“Danny, are you fighting ghosts right now?”
“Yeah. That’s my point.”
“Oh my god, get off the phone.”
“No way! This is the only time I can call you, what with all of your classes.”
“Danny…” said Jazz, clearly exasperated. He took advantage of the lull in the conversation to blast a few more ghosts.
“I’m fine Jazz.”
“You are not fine. You are, like, ten thousand miles away from fine. When was the last time you even slept through the night?”
“Eh,” said Danny. “Recently?”
“You need to take more time for yourself.”
Danny sighed and captured the last ghost. “Maybe catching ghosts is my hobby.”
“Catching ghosts is your self-imposed penance for doing something that isn’t even your fault. Not a hobby.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll talk to you on Wednesday, same time.”
“Danny, don’t—”
He hung up.
“Ugh,” said Danny. “I guess I need to find a hobby. Have to find time to find a hobby.”
“Perhaps I could be of help.”
“Ah!” Danny jolted forward, dropping his phone.
Clockwork gestured with one hand, and the phone dropped back into Danny’s hands from above.
“Ohhh my ghost, why are you here?”
“You were just talking about finding time. And now I’m here.”
“Good timing, I guess?”
“Only the best,” said Clockwork, evenly. “But we were speaking of hobbies. Might I suggest ice sculpture? Your friends in the Far Frozen would be more than happy to teach you...”
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Doorway - Day Five
(Part 1: Home)
In all honesty, Dean didn’t expect Phantom to show up at the space club.
It had been a few weeks since the Technus and cafe incident, and as a regular, he’d spotted Phantom at the cafe a few times since, always mint chocolate chip ice cream given by Hazel.
Dean had tried to approach Phantom, but the boy would always shy away or go invisible.
“He doesn’t seem to like you.” Betsy had remarked humourfully.
Alas, the waitress was all in good nature, but Dean was concerned. Had he done something to wrong the ghost?
So lest to say it was unexpected when the club rocked up to the observatory on a Sunday, to find Phantom already there, looking through telescopes, wearing their own club hoodie. And since Dean hadn’t known about it, he hadn’t informed the rest of the club members.
“Dude, is that our club hoodie?” Luca, a fellow ambassador, pointed to the familiar design, “Did he steal it?”
That had been Dean’s first assumption, and fair enough, really. You only ever got one of the hoodies if you were a club member.
“Nope! I was a club member back a few years ago. The name’s Danny.” Phantom approached Luca, a beam on his face, holding a single hand out, as if he hadn’t just admitted he was a former deceased member of the club.
“Oh yeah! Danny… well I wasn’t an ambassador back then, so uh, nice to meet you!” Luca awkwardly responded, taking the ghost's hand and shaking it. Cold.
Barely suppressing a shiver, he side eyed Dean, both knowing Luca had been an ambassador for over ten years, slightly guilty of the blatant lie he’d just spoon fed the hero.
“So you used to attend here?” Estelle, a club member asked, trying to form a warm smile on her face.
“Yeah.” Phantom, or Danny, nodded. “When I was, y’know.”
“Alive.” Simon finished bluntly.
The wince on Phantom's face didn’t go unnoticed, and everyone shifted awkwardly.
“So, Danny, when did you attend this club?” Luca asked. If he could get more clues off the ghost, then maybe he could find out who he once was.
“Well I’ve always been here, ever since I was four! Used to come here every month for a meeting, and then there used to be the trips we did in the summer holidays to go stargazing. I’ve got a hoodie from every year I’ve been here, except 2004, 2005, but that’s obvious.” The ghost rattled on, and the freckles glowing on his face didn’t go unnoticed.
Oh God. Luca trembled.
Ten whole years.
This ghost had been here every single year of the club ever since he’d been an ambassador, and he’d just forgotten him. Granted, Estelle wouldn’t know him, since she’d only joined last summer. Would Simon have any clue?
He tried to list through the long term club members, Meg, George, Teresa, Lee. (There weren’t that many left, a lot had left since the ghost attacks). The Fenton’s children? No, no. They had both left after the son was in a lab accident. Not them.
“Well, since we have a new — returning member, I guess we should spend the night getting to know eachother.” Dean announced, and Phantom’s eyes went wide.
“Danny, we’ll be sitting-“
“At the white benches near the telescopes at the top of the building.”
Well, at least he knew where they were, Dean supposed.
A few minutes later, the group of five settled down, all expectantly staring at Phantom. Normally there’d be more students, but a lot were studying for exams and ghost attacks postponed people, also.
Simon watched boredly, and Estelle seemed quite excited. At least neither of them felt guilty for forgetting Phantom, Luca reassured.
“So come on, tell us about yourself!” Estelle giddily exclaimed, her hands pressed into the table as she leaned towards Phantom, “I never would’ve guessed that you’d come here before.”
“Well, my name is Danny, I last came here in 2003 with my sibling, and I used to love space.” There was a tiny hesitance in his voice, as if the ghost would rather not be discussing the information. Estelle, remained oblivious.
“Why weren’t you here in 2004 and 5?” She questioned unconsciously, seemingly forgetting what she was talking to.
Taken aback, Phantom blinked rapidly.
“I was too busy dying.”
Beside them, Simon watched with a dull expression, almost expectantly, as if he knew something everyone else didn’t. Luca and Dean both had equally confused expressions on their face, and Estelle was oblivious as usual.
Did they seriously not recognise Phantom?
Estelle, fair enough, but Luca? The ambassador who’d been there since like forever. Dean, maybe.
Sighing, the boy placed his hands in his palms. He could even figure out how Phantom had died too, if he thought about it. Seriously? Was it that difficult to solve?
A certain Fenton boy, attending meetings for over ten years, then gets into a lab accident. Coincidentally, named Danny.
Although, he didn’t really know how to go about it. The boy's parents were ghost hunters, who obviously didn’t know, considering they’d shot him down with a bazooka last week. He hadn’t seen Fenton in a while… almost two years, actually.
Instead, Simon decided to ask another question.
“Why did you come here again?”
Phantom pulled his gaze from Estelle, staring at Simon for a second. Recognition lightened in his gaze.
“Well, after I died, that was my dream of being an astronaut right out the window. Ghost hunting takes up most of my time, trying to figure out how to control powers I didn’t want. But.. it’s been a few years, and I’m pretty settled where I am now. I’ve learnt to control my powers, most of Amity Park likes me. So heck, why can’t I restart my dreams again?”
The ghost shrugged, a smile on his face. The hoodie wrapped around him, a symbol of what he’d once been, the boy who’d once had dreams of stars and space, who’d been a devoted member. And here was a new opportunity, a new doorway, to start again.
#dannymay2021#danny phantom#original characters#doorway#kinda angst with hopeful ending#outsider pov#no one remembers who Phantom was
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I Am the Son of the Ghost King
Prompter: @five-rivers
Prompt: After their fight, Pariah Dark decides Danny has all the qualities he wants in an heir and forcibly adopts him. (Danny can either lose the fight to put him back in the Sarcophagus, or Pariah can get out again later
Words: 1251
The halls of Pariah’s keep were so dark, not even the multiple torches aligning each of the walls could break through the dark. Perhaps it was better this way, as it hid from sight the ghosts pleading for their lives as they were dragged to Pariah Dark’s throne room.
To the knowledge of few outside of the palace, Pariah Dark had once again escaped the sarcophagus of forever sleep. Enraged by the betrayal of his subjects, the King of Ghosts had sent his skeleton ghosts to find all of those who had made the rash decision to rise up against him and force them to see their punishment.
But Pariah was also looking for another. A child who despite everything, somehow beat him into submission – even if only for a little while. It had taken the powers of the ancients himself to defeat him last time. Yet a mere child had been victorious? Unspeakable!
That child would one day get even stronger. With the right ambition, he could be the one to rule over both the human realms and the ghost zone. He was not someone you wanted as an enemy. He was the perfect child to have as an heir. Pariah knew the boy had a human half and potentially even human parents. He didn’t care. He had heard rumours that the boy’s parents didn’t even know about his abilities. Then they wouldn’t need to know about the ghost king adopting the child they clearly neglected, would they?
The only trouble was that the boy was extremely stubborn, famously so. That solution required the threatening of the observants for a relic that could fix that. Yes, the amulet Ĝojo de la Patro would be a perfect solution.
“Sire! Sire!” One of the few loyal castle servants ran into the throne room, “Your knights have found him!”
Pariah Dark grinned, “Then let’s bring him in, shall we?”
“Yes my Lord.”
True to his nature, the boy came in struggling. He didn’t beg for freedom, nor was he quiet. The troublemaker seemed to have a mouth that could run a mile a minute. No harm, Pariah could just force the boy to give up that trait. He was in his ghost form, wearing his strange black suit with white gloves, boots, and belt. When he noticed the king sitting on the throne, the boy’s green eyes widened in shock and fear. Pariah frowned. One day the boy would come to love him.
“Daniel Phantom, you have been charged with treason. How do you plead?” Pariah Dark boomed.
“I plead the second.” The boy responded. Pariah Dark was not stupid. He knew the boy was trying to play a game of wits.
“You plead that you are bound to a lady’s hand and are only doing her wishes?” That wasn’t actually a legal excuse. In his existence, the king of ghosts had heard only one knight plead this. Instead of the intended desire, mercy, that had only made things worse. There was a reason that only the Fright Knight was left of his non-skeleton servants.
“What? No! I mean… you know what? Never mind. I plead not guilty.” The boy glared at his king.
Pariah grinned wickedly. “Is that so?”
“Not that I have to explain myself, but I was only doing what was right!” The boy sounded so confident in his words, like a royal prince should.
“Daniel Phantom, you have been found guilty of this crime. Because of your young age, you shall be pardoned!”
“What?” The boy fell when the skeletal soldiers dropped him on the ground. At Pariah Dark’s nod, the child grinned, “Thanks! You know maybe some of the ghosts were wrong about you. Since we’re cool and all, I’m going home. You have no idea how late it is. I have a test in the morning too!”
Pariah Dark stood up. He snapped his fingers and a new skeleton appeared carrying the amulet.
“To show our good will, we are presenting a gift to you.” Pariah Dark motioned for the boy to come forward. The child nervously took a step, before seeming to determine the danger was too high. No matter, one day the boy wouldn’t need to fear his king.
“Umm… is that a necklace?”
“Indeed child. It is one of the rare artifacts of the first ghost king. He gave this to his eldest son, and his eldest son passed it on to his son. I have retrieved it from the observants.” Pariah enjoyed watching the child try to reason why he would be given such a gift. He could see the kid weighing all the possibilities. Finally the boy sighed.
“You aren’t going to possess me, make me do something against my will, use me as a device to take over the world or you know… kill me, right?” The boy sighed.
Pariah smirked, “I would not need an amulet to do that to you. All I would need to do is simply wish for it to happen, and it would be so.”
“That is not nearly as comforting as you think it is.” The prince-to-be sighed, “I don’t have a choice in putting this thing on, do I?”
The Ghost King shook his head. “It would be rude to reject a gift.”
The child sighed once more before asking, “May I put it on myself then?”
The King of Ghosts snapped his fingers. A skeletal servant came running into the room. It carefully took the amulet than ran over to the prince. It presented Ĝojo de la Patro while kneeling on the ground. The boy took it then carefully placed it around his neck. The servant disappeared in a whiff a smoke.
Pariah Dark motioned towards the door. “It must be very late in the Human-Realm. My servants can bring you home.”
The boy eyed him as he exited the room. The child knew the King’s actions were too friendly. He was just as the other ghosts had claimed. He would truly be a warrior prince!
Pariah waited a minute or two. At the fourth minute, he feared that the amulet had not lived up to expectations. Of course, the observants had given him the wrong thing! They were more untrustworthy than the senators in Rome!
All his fears were squashed when the boy raced back into the room. “What did you do to me? Why can’t I leave this place? Why can’t I take off this stupid thing?”
“Ĝojo de la Patro means joy of the father. It was given to the eldest child because he was the king’s favourite and the king couldn’t bear to part with his dear son. The amulet forces the prince, or wearer to be within 50 meters of the current ghost king. Until I take it off, you will always be at my side.” Pariah informed him.
“WHAT! I CA- WHY?”
“You are to be the next ghost king.” Pariah Dark smiled, “You need to be at my side at all times.”
“You can’t do this to me!”
“Take Prince Daniel to his chambers.”
The boy tried to fight away the skeletal servants. What he didn’t realize was the futility of the situation. The soldiers would form with the blink of an eye and at the will of the king. There was an unlimited amount.
“When you have finished your temper tantrum, you shall go to bed. Then I will train you in the morn.” Pariah left his adopted son to the mercy of the hordes.
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ok, so can i request quentin,yui, and felix with a survivor s/o! that’s a killers ex? like they’ll be in a chase together then the s/o and killer will stop and talk shit for 30 minutes while everyone else works on gens. or even worse if they are friends with ex (friends is pushing it, they’re on good terms because they’re scared for their frickin life), and will get along with killer during the trial and try to sacerfice them last. it can be any format, whatever works for you! have a great day/night! ❤️
(Sorry about any spelling or grammatical errors. Also the wait.)
Quentin:
It would be an understatement to say that you were the world to Quentin Smith. You were his go to pillar for support and he was yours. Life outside the realm had been hard but existence in the Entity’s realm was a whole over nightmare and it was one he couldn’t wake up from.
Despite all that, there was one good thing about this new nightmare, and that was that he got to spend it with you.
New people arrived periodically, as did new killers, but none of that seemed to bother you. Quentin had heard about the new monsters all the time from other survivors. Knowing that soon enough it would be something that he’d have to face. So he did his best to prepare. Staying with you when the Entity allowed, being calmed by your presence.
He despaired of being put in trials with you, the thought of hearing your screams as you were hooked, or watching you get downed by a killer’s weapon, it was simply something he could not become accustomed to. He loved you after all and seeing you hurt, especially by freddy, was unbearable. So his heart grew heavy as the fog that rolled over the camp swallowed you as well, depositing you alongside himself, Ash and Claudette in the AutoHaven. Grasping your hand he pulled you closer. “Come on, let's stick together.” You didn’t argue, squeezing his hand and giving him a soft smile.
That plan quickly went to absolute hell. The Entity’s unfortunate choice of killer this round made you want to pull your hair out.
Rin Yamaoka.
You'd dated briefly during your time as an exchange student in Japan. She was so beautiful and You'd fallen for her so fast. But it became too difficult to hide the nature of your relationship from her family and her father just about lost his mind when he discovered the two of you alone in her room holding each other. The jerk didn't even have the decency to knock, just burst in right as you kissed her cheek.
His yelling was still ingrained in your mind. His harsh biting words and the way he roughly grabbed you and quite literally threw you out of his house. Rin begging and crying the whole time for him not to hurt you.
You weren't allowed back over to their place after that.
The relationship petered out despite your best efforts to keep it alive with secret meetings in the park at night.
You cried when Rin officially broke things off. It was at one of your secret rendezvous, she kissed you one last time and told you that despite how her heart was so full of love for you that her parents disapproved and the students were starting to catch on. She didn't want that kind of ridicule to fall on you.
You remained close for the whole of your time studying in Japan. When you left she saw you off and you gave her one last hug. Then she was gone and you got on the plane and flew away, but you left your heart in Japan.
Seeing her now you were frozen, stuck in place as your mind flashed through all your memories together and the tragic news of her death. Tears streamed down your cheeks and fell heavy to the ground below.
Likewise she stood frozen in place just staring at your face. "Rin…" the sound of her name was heavy on your tongue but even heavier on your heart.
Slowly your hand lifted to reach for her so close you could almost feel the chill of her ghostly form.
Your body jolted as you were pulled away and forced into a run. The heat of the hand holding yours was so very unlike the chill of Rin's body.
"Are you okay? Did she hurt you?" Quentin gasped, panic dripping from every syllable.
"a long time ago." You whispered as you ran with your boyfriend, through the exit gate and far away from the phantom from your past.
Yui:
Yui was a tough nut to crack but when she finally opened up you found a sweet and very loving interior. She was everything you could want in a girlfriend. The others remarked on the relative ease with which you had gotten her to fall.
All of the other survivors took up a bet whether or not you could romance her before you had managed to get all the killers in a trial.
Turns out those betting on before were right on the money. At first you had thought it was fine to not have had to face all the creepy monsters this place had to offer. Turns out not knowing made things all that much harder, or rather, more awkward.
Staring down Philip Ojomo was surreal to say the least.
Even as transformed as he was there was no doubt about it. The tall tree looking monster was your old boyfriend. To be honest he seemed just as lost for what to do about the situation as you.
"Uh… hi Philip." You waved a little, shyly almost and took a step forward. He shifted his feet as if to take a step back but stopped himself. "It sure has been a while huh?"
Your break up had been amiable, he was leaving to start a new job and your work was calling for you to leave as well, far away from the town with the junkyard and bloody car crusher that he had been called to.
"May we talk?" The question was completely unorthodox, and probably not a good idea.
Sitting down to speak with a man meant to kill and sacrifice you to the Entity. But you asked him nonetheless.
To your surprise he did. He sat with you on the damp earth and you both spoke for a long time, until the exit gates opened and you had to leave.
He offered you his hand cordially, and you accepted it happily.
At long last you had managed to catch up and had learned about what happened to each other. His story saddened you but it was good to finally know.
When you told Yui about it she was more worried than you'd ever seen her outside the trials. She drilled you for all the details about what happened. Only stopping when you managed to asure her that you weren't hurt.
But then her face took on a look you had never seen before. She look uncertain and almost insecure.
"You aren't still love in love with him are you?"
The question left you floored.
"What?" You couldn't help but laugh. "No Yui I love you. My feelings for him have long since passed. I promise."
You kissed her hard and the tension melted from her shoulders as she kissed back.
"Good," she said when she pulled away, "because I don't plan on sharing you."
Felix:
"For fuck's sake! Chase someone else for once!" You shouted over your shoulder.
Ghostface apparently didn't care about doing anything for the sake of fuck because he didn't ,infact, stop chasing you.
You heard your name being shouted from the other side of the map. Felix was helping Meg off a hook. He was calling out to you. "Just a bit longer, we're almost done."
You nodded and pumped your legs harder. Hopping a pallet you laughed as Ghostface swore behind you. "Sorry Danny guess you just can't keep up…. Like always."
"Just you wait sweetheart. Once I get my hands on you..." He growled as he crushed the pallet with a few heavy stomps.
"I don't think I have much to be worried about." You laughed.
"Oh yeah?" He asked.
"Yeah. I mean if you're as bad at killing as you were in bed then I'm gonna get out of here scot free." You cackled.
"EXCUSE YOU!?" His mask may not have been able to change but the rest of his body said it all. He was both offended and pissed.
"You take that back this instant you know damn well that that isn't true I was always…" he was absolutely raving behind you. Going on and on about how he had been attentive and how he always made you cum and on and on.
The last generator popped and you wooped happily.
"Oh you little fucker." Danny shouted as you made for the gate. "That is what I was!" You called back.
"I will hook your ass don't think I won't!"
He never got the chance as you dashed past the escape gate and out into the field beyond to join your loving boyfriend. "You okay?" Felix asked, taking your hand as you both slowed, nearing the survivors' camp.
"Yes I'm okay. Are you okay? I know he got a few hits in during the match."
His smile was warm and reassuring. "Yes I'm okay. Cluadette had a good med kit."
You leaned up to peck his cheek. "Good." You walked with him hand in hand into the camp and forgot about anything that wasn't being in his arms.
#my writing#dead by daylight x reader#dbd x reader#quentin smith#quentin smith x reader#rin yamaoka#rin yamaoka x reader#yui kimura#yui kimura x reader#philip ojomo#philip ojomo x reader#felix richter#felix richter x reader#danny johnson#danny johnson x reader#the spirit#the spirit x reader#the wraith#the wraith x reader#ghostface#ghostface x reader
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Everything Was White Part 13
[see all chapters]
read on: [ffn] / [ao3]
General Warning: From this point on this fic is going to deal with reoccurring themes that may be triggering to some. Please check out the ao3 tags if you’re unsure.
---
Muffled voices pulled him from the comfort of unconsciousness, shaking his mind awake despite his feeble attempts to brush them off. For a moment, he thought about trying to tell the voices to keep it down, but that would have been too much effort, and he was so comfortable in this blanket and pillow…
…
…
...the voices rose in volume, this time gaining clarity, shape. Almost words. Close, but not quite. Not yet. Danny wasn’t ready. Five more minutes, he was so tired…
“...Danny…”
Wait.
What was that?
His eyes fluttered open, and he immediately took stock of his unfamiliar surroundings. He was...not in his bedroom. He was in his living room, on the couch where he must have fallen asleep after his almost mental breakdown over a glass of water.
How embarrassing. Danny hoped that no one spotted the water glass on the rug. Or, if they had, they hadn’t thought anything about it. Hadn’t figured out that it was on the floor because Danny tried to get water from the sink without using his wheelchair.
Maybe they wouldn’t connect the dots. Honestly, the thought of seeing that pitying expression on their faces as they watched him fail to do a stupidly simple task made him want to fall into a coma.
Oh well. He was awake now. Might as well go get something to eat to make his family and therapists proud.
Just as he was about to toss the blanket off his body, Jazz’s quiet voice sounded from the kitchen. “You can’t keep the truth from him forever.”
“We can, at least for now,” his dad said.
“It’s not going to work.”
Danny froze, the last of his fatigue zapped from his brain.
What truth? What were they talking about? What was going on in there?
He debated standing up and announcing his presence, but the blossoming sense of dread in his gut kept him still.
Whatever was going on, he had a sinking feeling that it was about him.
His mother spoke up. “We have to. It’s for his own safety.”
“It’s wrong,” Jazz countered. “It’s wrong to keep secrets like this.”
“I know, Jazz. But if we told Danny, he…”
His eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat.
Tell him what?
“Jazz, you have to understand. With Danny in the position that he’s in right now, there are just certain limitations that we need in this house in order to stay on top of his recovery,” Jack explained.
“But cutting him off from his core?”
It was as if he were punched in the gut. He clenched the blanket, balling the edges in his fists. His instincts were screaming at him to jump up and demand the truth, but he buried that part of him back down inside his mind.
They would never tell him. They didn’t trust him enough. He wasn’t human enough.
But they always trusted Jazz. They favored her. She was the ideal child with her perfect grades, perfect ambitions, perfect brain.
Even if they wouldn’t tell him, of course they would tell her.
“We have to do it, honey. We have no choice,” Maddie said.
“You see how he’s reacting to this though, right? He’s not himself.”
“We know, but it’s what needs to be done. He can’t be given access to his core, not right now.”
Why though, Dad? Tell me why...
“This is cruel,” Jazz said.
There was a brief pause, each second like a knife in Danny’s chest. He wanted so badly to snap, but he forced himself to stay still. To stay silent.
To listen.
There was a sigh, and Maddie broke the silence. “You have no idea how much it hurts us to see him like this. We know it isn’t right to keep a ghost from its core but...at the school that day. Jazz, I’ve never seen him like that. And it terrified me.”
Danny felt his blood drain from his face. His body turned ice cold.
He knew what they were talking about, and he assumed that that day was a distant memory in the past, something that would never be talked about again. And yet, here his parents were, digging up the most humiliating moment in Danny’s life, throwing it at his face like a weapon of why he couldn’t possibly be allowed his ghost half, why he needed to be shut off from himself.
“He’s come a long way since then.”
“Not long enough.”
They didn’t know. They didn’t understand what it was like. They weren’t there, they weren’t the ones who were cut open, who were beaten, who spent all day in and out looking at white walls, white floors, white suits, white ceilings, white equipment.
He hadn’t been himself that day at the school. He’d just come home from the hospital, he was coming off of a cocktail of heavy pain medication, he was physically exhausted from the PT and mentally exhausted from everything else.
Okay, so he snapped in the locker room. He’d been pushed back into school, pushed into being around people, pushed into acting normal, like nothing was wrong, and the world was warping around him and he just fell apart. He freaked out, he broke a mirror, Dash and Kwan found him, and he paid the consequences for it.
“I don’t think he’d do that again.”
“You don’t know that, Jazz.”
“But his Obsession—”
“It’s protection. Phantom will make him do whatever it can in order to protect itself. Even if that means…”
It.
The word echoed in Danny’s head.
You’re an it.
Something inside him cracked.
His vision glazed over, and suddenly the two students in Casper he’d hoped to never cross paths with again were standing over him, approaching cautiously, as if he were a wounded animal.
“Give me the glass, Danny,” Dash had said. “You don’t need it. Just give it to me, I’ll hang onto it for you. I’ll keep it safe.”
He looked down, and blood trickled through his fingers, splattering onto the white tile.
It was red. Why was it red?
Crack.
Maddie’s voice faded back into his consciousness. “We just can’t risk it.”
“So what, your genius idea is to keep lying to him about why you won’t take the chip out? Feed him some bullshit excuse about the lab? Danny’s a human but he’s also a ghost! You can’t keep him from his core and expect him to turn out okay!”
“We know that.”
“No, you clearly don’t!”
“Keep your voice down, hun. He’s asleep.”
“Then stop lying to him. Tell him the real reason why you won’t give him Phantom back.”
Danny couldn’t breathe.
His parents. The people who had gone to court for him, who fought so hard to get him home, who assured him that they’d go to the moon and back if it meant keeping him safe.
He trusted them.
And they...they just…
Crack.
“You know we can’t do that,” his father said. “You said it yourself, Danny’s just as much human as he is ghost. Ghosts don’t have the capacity to think rationally about something like that.”
They just…
“Kwan, get Lancer.”
He didn’t understand. Why were those two here?
“Please, give me the mirror, Danny.”
No, they didn’t get it. He needed this. This was the only thing he could do, it was the only way out. He couldn’t let Operative O take his body again.
“Danny...”
They were afraid, he realized. They thought he was going to hurt them. He was a rabid animal, wasn’t he? And they thought he would attack them?
Another drop of blood splashed onto the tile.
Crack.
Jazz scoffed. “I cannot believe you would just—”
“He’s fragile, Jazz!” Maddie protested. “Whatever happened in the government facility changed him. He’s not the same boy he used to be, something inside him is fundamentally different now. Frankly, we have no idea how that has affected his Obsession.”
His head spun.
They lied to him.
“What, so the better option is to just cut him off from his core altogether and force him to play human all day? Great plan, Mom.”
“If that’s what we need to do to keep him safe, then yes, that is the better option.”
The mirror shattered, the pieces raining down, echoing as they bounced against the tiles. He watched with unfocused eyes as everything around him crumbled.
His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the arguing voices in the kitchen. He fell to the floor and clutched a broken shard.
He needed...he needed to...
Protect.
Danny saw red.
His lips moved before he could stop them. “I thought you’d accepted me.”
The argument from the kitchen came to a screeching halt.
“Danny! I didn’t—”
“No!” Danny pushed himself to a seated position.
They kept him from his core on purpose.
His parents, after all those painstaking hours in family therapy, all that talk about how they were a team and how they needed to work together, had lied to him.
They weren’t a team. They had never been a team. Danny was just…
He was just a ghost to them.
An irrational, stupid, ectoplasmic creature.
They scrambled from the kitchen, moving into the living room with fear strewn across their faces.
They hate ghosts. You know this, Fenturd. They hate you.
“We do accept you, Danno. We love you.”
They didn’t love him.
“We were just trying to protect you. Please understand, Danny,” Maddie begged.
They’re scared of you. They don’t know what it means to protect. They’re lying.
“Danny, you need to understand—”
“SHUT UP!” Danny gripped his hair with his hands, covering his ears to quiet the hurricane of emotions devastating his mind. “Shut up, shut up!”
He didn’t know whether to laugh, scream, or cry. After all this talk, his parents had never accepted him as a ghost at all.
“I’m so sorry, son,” Jack said.
“I can’t—I can’t!” Danny spat out. He had a thousand different responses swirling through his brain, so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. His brain wasn’t working, his voice wasn’t working, and everything he saw was painted in blood.
They lied to him.
“I—you—”
“Danny, you need to breathe,” Jazz said, but Danny could recognize that tone. That was the same voice she used when trying to calm down the neighbor’s hyperactive dog that had a bad habit of finding ways out of its fence.
Danny ripped his head out of his arms, swiveling up to meet the concerned gazes of his family. “Shut up! I’m not a fucking dog!”
“Danny, I never—”
“Stop treating me like a fucking animal! I’m not—I’m not!” Danny attempted to grip the coffee table to push himself up, but he only succeeded in falling back onto the couch. He cursed and blinked away the mist that clouded his vision because he was not crying right now. His parents did not get to see that.
Maddie jumped forward. “Careful!”
“No, shut the fuck up!” Danny yelled. “You don’t get to—to be concerned! You don’t get that!”
Maddie stepped back, looking as if someone slapped her across the face.
“Danny, please, calm down,” Jack tried.
If anything, the red lining in his vision only deepened. “No! I won’t, and you don’t—don’t—ah!” Danny hit his forehead with his hand, frustration clawing at his throat.
There was so much he wanted to say, but he physically couldn’t get it out. He couldn’t stand, he couldn’t talk, he could only sit here drowning in rage.
His body was betraying him.
His parents could fix this right now if they wanted to. They could take him down to the lab, remove the chip, give Danny any semblance of freedom back. They could do that.
But they stood there doing nothing.
They like you like this. Helpless. Grounded. Easy to control.
“You lied to me! You knew—you fucking—my core isn’t even damaged, is it?”
Jack wrapped his arm around Maddie, who hadn’t even bothered to wipe away the tears that had spilled on her cheeks.
Because of him.
They hate you.
“Is it?” Danny pressed, but he didn’t need a response. He knew the answer. He knew the truth.
It was written all over his parents' faces.
“Was my core ever damaged? At all?”
“It was, but—”
Danny shook his head in disbelief. “Cores are self-re—self-regenerating. I—I knew that. I knew that! It—it was healed before I left the hospital, right?”
His parents refused to meet his eyes.
“You lied to me. All this time, and—and you...you just…” Danny tried to stand up again, but failed. “I’m so fucking sick of this!”
“Danny, please understand. We only did it because we needed to protect you.”
“Protect me?” He let out a sardonic laugh. “You thought—you seriously thought you were—you were fucking protecting me? Do you not...even see? I can’t—I can’t even fucking stand up! I can’t stand! I can’t do anything! And you thought you were protecting me? Are you serious?”
Jack’s lips thinned. “Danny, do you not realize how close we were to losing you? And I don’t mean to the government. You blasted a school mirror and then tried to use one of the pieces to kill yourself! I mean, come on, son!”
Danny lurched back, stunned. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself!”
“Then what were you trying to do, huh?” Jack shouted back. “Because not even a few hours after we dropped you off back at school, we get a call from Mr. Lancer saying a few students found you in the locker room threatening suicide because you thought you were back with the government! What do you expect us to think, Danny? We’re your parents.”
“Shut up!” Danny squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the flashes of memory that threatened to surface.
“Jack—”
“No, Maddie—”
They hate you.
His throat burned. “Shut up!”
It wasn’t fair. His parents weren’t being fair. That incident—that was a fluke. An anomaly. And yet they were punishing Danny for something that happened weeks ago, before he went through the painstaking ordeal of inpatient and psychiatry and the PHP and the whole other host of therapies he’d been forced into.
“What was the point in sending me to—to inpatient then? If you were just going to keep treating me like a stupid animal?”
“Danny, we’re not treating you like an animal.”
“You sure as hell got me caged up like one!”
“Don’t talk to your mother that way!”
“Jack, honey—”
“Everyone, please calm down!”
“Stay out of this, Jazz!”
“Danny, I think—”
“I don’t care what you think!”
“Guys—”
“I NEED MY CORE!” Danny screamed, the sob finally tearing its way out of his throat.
His family fell into a deafening silence, and Danny could feel their stares as ugly sobs overtook him, ripping down any semblance of an emotional wall he’d managed to construct over these weeks.
His tears boiled on his skin, and he dug his hands in his hair in a desperate attempt to ground himself. But it didn’t matter, his body shook uncontrollably, his emotions burning through his throat leaving him gasping for air.
All while his parents stood there ten feet away from him. Frozen, unwilling to approach. Because he was a halfa, a monster, broken, unstable, trapped, feared. He was the demon that parents warned their children about, the thing that his parents had dedicated their careers to developing weapons against, a creature so dangerous that the government had funded an entire group to research and exterminate.
And up until two months ago, it was legal for him to be vivisected, to be experimented on, to be tortured to the point of paralysis.
He rocked back and forth, struggling to piece himself back together. And when he could make it through a shuddering breath without breaking down again, all he could do was croak out, “Why…”
His parents remained unmoving, faces pale, arms by their sides. Tears streaked his mother’s and sister’s cheeks, and his father’s unblinking gaze bore down on him.
But their silence wasn’t good enough, their sorrow and tears weren’t good enough. An invisible wall was growing between them with each passing second and they couldn’t even see it.
They know. They’re doing it on purpose. They don’t care about you.
“Why?” Danny insisted. “How could—how could you...how could you do this to me? I’m...I just…”
“We had to, son,” his father said. The moonlight cast a shadow over his face. “It was for your own safety.”
No. Danny was done with the lies. Done with the excuses.
He was done.
Flaring his eyes, he bit back, “My safety, or yours?”
His parents flinched, and Danny couldn’t find himself to care. They’d lied to him, they’d dug their hole, so now they had to live in it.
“Danny, please…” Jazz stepped forward. “Don’t do this.”
“No! You—don’t you get it?” Danny pleaded. “I can’t—Mom, Dad, I feel like a prisoner. I’m trapped in my body. I can’t—I can’t live like this anymore! I can’t fucking do it! You have no idea...and you don’t even care!”
“Of course we care, Danno.”
“Then why? Tell me the truth! Please, tell me why because—” His voice broke, and his head fell back into his hands. “Please...tell me why…”
Jack sighed. “It was just the decision we felt we needed to make. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t something we did because we wanted to hurt you. We love you, son. And we just wanted to know that you were safe.”
“We love you so much, sweetie.”
But they were blind because he wasn’t safe. And he was never going to be safe again. There would always be someone out there who had power over him, who wanted to control and erase him.
If they loved you, they would have listened.
They’re scared of you.
He glanced up to see Jack putting his arm around Maddie, pulling her in close. Jazz stood behind them, allowing their shadows to overtake her body.
Jazz said something, but Danny wasn’t listening. He didn’t care. He was trapped and completely alone. There would be no protests, no online petitions, and no jury on his side. No one to rescue him.
“Then give it—give me my core back.”
Jack shook his head. “I’m sorry son. We’ve made our decision.”
“I’ll find a way,” Danny insisted. “I know some ghosts. I’ll get them to—to take it out. You can’t...you—you can’t stop me.”
“Danny, I don’t think even Frostbite could—”
“You don’t know that, Jazz! He could—he could do it. He would figure it out if I asked.”
His parents exchanged a look, one reminiscent of the exasperation when Danny would tell them that the detention hadn’t been his fault, that he did try to do the homework assignment, that he would try harder next time.
They didn’t believe him.
“He’ll do it,” he reiterated.
“Danny, we’re not going to let any ghosts near you right now.”
“Like that ever worked before,” he retorted.
There was a pregnant pause, and Danny looked away. He felt nauseous, and anxiety speared through his chest.
“Please, I can’t—I can’t live like this. I can’t…”
He knew how desperate he sounded, but for once he didn’t care. His parents were going to kill him by keeping his core locked up.
Right now it was about self-preservation. If he couldn’t protect himself, it was over.
“Graduate from the PHP program first,” Maddie finally said. “Once you’re back in school, then we can talk, alright? We’ll talk about...about removing the chip.”
Danny whipped his head up, his eyes searching for any signs that she was lying, that she was going to pull the rug out from under him again.
But her face betrayed nothing.
“Graduate?” Danny breathed. “I just have to...graduate?”
“Yes. Show us that you’re okay enough to go back to school, and you can have your ghost half back.”
“I…” He tugged at his hair. “But that’s...that’s weeks…’
Maddie crossed her arms. “Those are my terms.”
Time slowed, and the distance between them only seemed to grow. He knew he was already behind leaving the PHP center that he was almost certain there was talk of shoving him back into inpatient.
But they didn’t get it. It wasn’t his fault, it was the government stalking him. It was Vlad. He had no choice, and he would never be able to graduate PHP. Not without his core.
“I—but—but, Mom. I need—”
“Son,” his dad said sharply. “I understand how difficult this is for you, but you’re not in a place where we can trust you right now. This is our compromise. Show us we can trust you, and you can have your freedom back.”
His eyes stung, and his throat was starting to squeeze shut.
No…
“Do we have a deal?”
This was impossible.
Even if Frostbite had a way of removing the chip, Danny had no way of finding him. Not without Clockwork’s interference, who didn’t seem to have any interest in contacting Danny as of late.
The thought of Clockwork left a sour taste in Danny’s mouth. He hadn’t thought of the ancient ghost since his nights in the government compound, his body splayed out like a rag doll, shivering from shock. He remembered staring into the pitch black abyss around him begging for Clockwork to come help him.
But his calls were never answered.
Danny knew Clockwork could have freed him whenever he wanted, government ghost shields be damned. But he didn’t. And that made him just as guilty as everyone else.
And now Danny was alone, bound by his human physiology and his ghost hunter parents.
He had no choice.
“Okay. It’s—it’s a deal.”
---
His body was cold, dead, with waves of trembling coming in and out in spurts. Every breath hurt, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the burning in his chest, the soreness in his throat, or the way the alien warmth in his core seemed more overbearing than ever.
He could feel it, the hand reaching between his ribs, gripping his core with its warm, gloved fingers. It was revolting, violating, how the hands invaded his body, tearing off his skin and ribs as if he were nothing but a rotting carcass.
He felt dizzy. Lightheaded. He put a hand on his chest, crinkling his shirt in his fist. It was his core, he needed to protect it.
But he was useless. Nothing. He was at the mercy of his parents who were all but holding a loaded gun to his head while telling him to trust them. Who lied to him that they accepted him, that they were there for him.
That they loved him.
He was stupid, so stupid. After all the months of hearing them enthusiastically discuss the ways they’d love to rip him apart, what made him think they’d love him just like that?
Their acceptance was conditional, and their conditions were impossible for him to meet. How the hell did they expect him to graduate from PHP and reenter society like a normal person while they were drowning his core like this? Did they not see how badly he was suffocating? How much he was screaming, thrashing in the ocean for air, desperately trying to fight the undertow pulling him further and further away from his sanity?
He wasn’t going to make it. He was going to fail, he was going to drown. He couldn’t do this.
But there’s one way, a small voice in his head whispered. You’ve done it before and you were fine. It helped you.
His eyes trailed over to his nightstand with his old model rocket sitting proudly on top. He had never flushed the oxycodone.
Maybe…maybe…
It can help you again.
He just needed to graduate the PHP program and he would get his core back and then everything would be okay. He could work on his problems the right way later. The way he was supposed to be doing it, that he couldn’t do right now because he was still missing half of himself.
Two weeks. That was all he needed. Just two weeks worth of medication, and then he’d be on his way.
You need this.
He pushed himself up as if he were a puppet on strings. Everything was bleak, gray-washed and oppressive. Nausea rolled over him in waves and a hand gripped his throat, pulling the oxygen from his body.
The nightstand glowed in the moonlight, and like a moth Danny felt himself drawn closer to it. Tunnel vision took over, and the world morphed into a series of photos in a time lapse. Snapshot after snapshot flickered past his eyes until a hand—his hand—was pulling the drawer open to reveal an orange bottle inside.
You’re ready.
He couldn’t live like this anymore.
The fear, the anxiety, his core. It was all so much easier before, back in the hospital. Back when the only thing he had to worry about was what constellation he was going to draw that day. Back before he had to face the public, his family, or Vlad. Back before he knew that the government had his phone tapped and was watching his every move.
Back before he knew that his freedom was only temporary.
He was a sitting duck, a kid trapped in no man’s land with no weapon, no armor, nothing to keep him alive.
“Two weeks,” he whispered. Two weeks and then he would be okay. He would graduate from PHP, he would get to go back to school, he would become a regular person again. He just needed to get there first.
He opened the bottle and shook out a small white pill into the palm of his hand.
Two weeks.
Tilting his head back, he tossed the pill into his mouth, took a sip of water, and swallowed.
There.
It was done.
---
Thank you @imekitty for beta-ing the fic as well as helping me organize my plot better!
Thanks for reading!
---
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Full Disclosure
“I’m sorry for the way I used to act towards you when we were fourteen,” she admitted before softly adding, “especially when you and Danny were beginning to connect.”
Or
In which Sam and Valerie clear the air between them.
Word count: 5176
READ ON AO3
Before we go in, I just wanted to say that I hope I did the characters justice. Really, it’s all I ask because I’m still fairly recent in the fandom (as in, actively participating rather than fangirling on my own) and I’d hate to make a travesty of characters that mean so much to me. Oh, and this one-shot can take place in whatever timeline you want: you hate PP with a passion? Don’t worry, it didn’t happen. You actually think it’s a good finale? That works too. There shouldn’t be anything that indicates this story takes place in anywhere in particular other than Amity Park, so... All you need to know is that Valerie knows.
Please, enjoy!!
As an intense throb manifested itself in her right side, eliciting an involuntary groan to escape her throat, Sam was more frustrated at herself than aching from the hit. It had been two years already since Danny had the accident that gave him his powers, consequently beginning the constant battles against ghosts that made their teenaged life significantly harder, and, as they came to appreciate their lifestyle, significantly more interesting, too. Once Danny gained his ghost powers, she and Tucker took it to themselves to make sure their friend was always supported and aided when fighting his ghostly adversaries.
And with that came the injuries.
They certainly didn’t get hurt as often or as gravely as Danny, since he was usually the one facing the mischievous spirits head-on, but they still had to get used to their own fair share of beatings. The teachers were understandably surprised when they effortlessly completed their first aid training in Health class.
All in all, Sam was used to getting hurt.
Which made the fact that Valerie had landed such a perfect kick that it literally left her breathless all the more humiliating.
Valerie Gray, a.k.a. the Red Huntress. Danny Phantom’s longtime pursuer and Danny Fenton’s one time girlfriend. The once popular girl was now their trustworthy ally. And, as much as Sam hated to admit it, she was thoroughly kicking her butt. Perhaps she should have expected as much from a ninth degree black belt.
“Had enough, Manson?” Valerie taunted with a raised eyebrow.
Getting up slowly, Sam sent her a smirk alongside a challenging, determined look. “Never.” And with that she leaped on the ghost huntress, using her momentum to connect a punch to her face. But Valerie was faster, blocking the Goth girl’s attack with her forearm before sliding her leg under Sam’s to make her lose her balance. Seeing what her opponent was up to, the violet-eyed girl quickly got out of her way, widening the space between the two to give herself some time to think up a new strategy.
Smirking at Sam’s maneuver, Valerie appraised her with pride. “Not bad, Sam,” she said before changing her stance, ready to pounce, “but the extra space won’t save you from this.” Leaping into the air, the Red Huntress didn’t waste a moment to knock Sam to the floor with a roundhouse kick boosted by her movements.
Even if the Goth blocked the attack by keeping her palms up in front of her face, the sheer force behind it was still enough to knock her down. That was gonna bruise in the morning, she was sure of it. Glancing up she noticed Valerie looking down at her with a smug look on her face and her hands on her hips. Sam barely resisted the urge to scowl darkly at her. Panting, she conceded, “Alright, alright. Maybe now I’ve had enough.”
Chuckling at Sam’s proud nature, the green-eyed girl bent down slightly to offer her friend a hand and lift her up from the floor. Once Sam was at her eye-level, she looked down on her watch, now serving as a chronometre. “Five minutes. That’s a full round! Congratulations, Sam. So far, you’re the one who’s lasted the most against me.” She applauded her, but her face betrayed her. She was about to burst out laughing.
Snorting, the Goth girl elbowed her slightly on the arm. “Knock it off! Even if I lost, I still managed to land a few hits myself.”
“Yeah...Trust me, you don’t have to remind me.” Valerie complained with a pointed look as she rubbed her lower back. Early on in the match, Sam kneed her there. Thank goodness she wasn’t tasked with unloading the Nasty Burger’s products that week. “I’m serious, though. Danny without his powers lasts a minute and a half, tops. And Tucker...well, let’s just say that taking one hit without passing out is already a victory when it comes to him.”
“Yeah, he and Danny really should do more exercise.” The two girls laughed at that. These past two years Danny’s skill when using his powers had skyrocketed. Enemies that used to give him a hard time were now more of a headache. He didn’t even have to pay attention to the fight to get rid of the Ghost Box. Now, as Danny Fenton… He’d gotten taller, that was for sure. But he still had the nasty habit of relying on his powers a little too much, which didn’t do his P.E marks any favours. And Tucker was still far more interested in whatever his PDA had to offer than the wonders of physical exercise.
In truth, everyone had changed during that time, if only a little.
Sam was still as Goth and ultra-recyclo-vegetarian as always. Her raven hair was slightly longer, now reaching her shoulders, but she still wore it mostly loose and framing her face, except for the one strand she kept in a high ponytail. Her fashion sense hadn’t changed much either. She wore a black crop top with Danny’s logo on it instead of the old purple ovalーthe town began selling merchandise of its hero to attract, and basically rob, tourists. Since she created the logo herself, she made her own outfits and nobody was none the wiser. She also stuck with plaid skirts, but this time she favoured a purple and black one instead of her old black and green. But her combat boots, accessories, and make-up were sacred. Everybody knew impending doom was near if Sam ever changed even the tiniest detail in her appearance when it came to that.
She was still outspoken and an avid defender of animal rights, individuality, and most importantly, of Danny Phantom. Even though most people celebrated the boy and thanked him for his services, there were still some who criticised him and believed Amity Park was better off before him. Needless to say, Sam was always at the front of the line in any protest to defend Amity Park’s greatest protector. The fact that he was not only one of her best friends but also her boyfriend may have something to do with it. But even if they weren’t together, Sam knew Danny. She’d always known him. She would always defend him from those who couldn’t even begin to grasp just how noble, responsible, and compassionate he was.
The corners of her mouth curled up slightly when she remembered she’d just been sparring with what once was one of Danny Phantom’s greatest detractors.
In a way, Valerie had probably changed the most out of everyone she knew while simultaneously not changing anything at all.
In terms of appearance, just like Sam, she’d only modified her look slightly. She cut her long, dark brown curls so they now barely reached her shoulders instead of cascading down her back. According to her, long hair just got in the way with her suit. She originally wanted to get an undercut, but her dad almost had a cow so they compromised with short hair for now and leaving the undercut for when she was a little older. The huntress still favoured spaghetti-strapped yellow t-shirts, but now she completed her outfit with dark blue jeans or shorts (depending on the temperature) and white sneakers. She also dropped the headband due to her hair, but she kept the earrings.
The most obvious change, though, was that she was now an ally rather than an enemy after Danny Phantom’s head. Sam feared for the worst when Valerie found out her ex boyfriend was the very same ghost she’d vowed to destroy (could she really say she and Danny were exes, though? Sure, they went on a few dates and they genuinely liked each other, but Valerie pseudo-broke up with him right when he was about to ask her to make things official... Ugh, the wonders of the teenaged heart... Always bound to give her a headache. This is why she preferred her Goth indifference...most of the time). As much as they wanted to trust Valerie was going to be sensible about it, her track record wasn’t the best, forcing them to keep an eye out in case she decided to send her more positive opinion of Danny Fenton to Hell and shoot him with her ecto-bazooka.
Thankfully, one day Valerie just sat down with them at lunch, and when Danny tentatively asked her if they were okay, she just smiled and said, “We’re okay.” So they ate lunch in peace...until the Lunch Lady showed up and they had to send her back to the Ghost Zone. At least that time the Red Huntress was there to help them out. Ever since then, the girl sometimes fought alongside them, but for the most part she did her own thing.
And that was something about Valerie that hadn’t changed; her hatred of ghosts. Valerie was still hellbent on getting rid of all the spirits that haunted Amity Park, with half-ghosts being the sole exception ーexcept for Vlad, Valerie held a huge grudge against him for having used her as his pawn; not like the team could complain, they all hated Vlad, after all. And that made her ruthless, determined, brutal… More than once Danny had tried talking her out of her grudge against the paranormal, explaining to her that, albeit not as numerous as the troublemaking ghosts, there were still some that just wanted to be left alone. But Valerie would not budge. She believed all ghosts lacked the humanity and self-control necessary to resist whatever crazy obsession that tied them to our world and would eventually attack.
To Valerie, ghosts were ticking bombs.
Seeing as, so far, most ghosts they faced were malicious or seriously causing trouble, Tucker suggested they just let her be, but the moment she actually targeted an innocent ghost (say, Wulf), then they would have to get serious with her.
All in all, Valerie was their friend. A friend who had agreed to help her train so Danny wouldn’t have to worry so much about her safety when they were out fighting spectres. Not like he really needed to worry, she could take care of herself, but the more prepared they were, the better. And Valerie was helping her with that, and yet, the air still hadn’t been completely cleared between them.
As much as Sam would’ve loved cutting to the chase, a part of her still wasn’t prepared to address the elephant in the room. “Not gonna lie, Valerie, I wiー” she stopped mid-sentence. The last thing they needed was to have Desirée roaming free around Amity Park just because she hadn’t been careful with her words. Clearing her throat, she went on. “I mean, I would do anything for your fighting skills. You must have every ghost shaking in their boots...or whatever they have to shake in.”
As Sam sat down on the floor of her family’s private gym, which Valerie still couldn’t get used to being in, the green-eyed girl made her way to the other side of the room far away from the training tatami, where a middle-sized fridge was located. Pulling the door open, she grabbed two water bottles before going back to Sam. “Yeah, what can I say? I am pretty awesome.”
“And don’t forget modest.” Sam replied sarcastically.
“Girl, when you’re as good as me, you don’t need to pretend to be modest.” She joked as she handed Sam her own water bottle, which she accepted gratefully, before sitting down on the floor next to her. “Believe it or not, though, I became a ninth degree black belt long before I started hunting ghosts.” She looked at the floor, a pensive look on her face, “...we couldn’t have afforded the classes otherwise.”
Sam did her best to suppress the urge to do a spit-take at her words. Valerie almost never brought her financial situation up. The most she used to do was remember Danny why she hated him back when she still was after him, but the topic was dropped altogether once the secret was out. Looking around her ridiculously lavish house, Sam felt like facepalming herself. How could she have been so insensitive as to remind Valerie of the life she lost?!
“Valerie...I-I’m sorry. I should’ve told you to meet up at the park to train, but I…”
“Sam, don’t.” The huntress cut her off with a stern tone. “Don’t apologise. You have nothing to apologise for.”
“But it was insensitive of me toー” Again, she was interrupted by Valerie, who silenced her by raising her palm up in front of her.
“Please, let me talk. You don’t have to apologise for anything because you’ve done nothing wrong. I’ll admit, it’s a bit paradoxical finding out that while I was mourning my losses you’d been hiding the fact that you’re stinking rich all along. But I’m not offended by it. Actually, I think I understand.”
“You do?” The Goth girl asked in disbelief, her eyes wide open.
The African-American girl just shrugged. “I think so. I didn’t realise it until my so-called friends kicked me out of the group, but having money attracts a lot of fakes and shallow people. People who’ll only be there when it’s convenient for them and who’ll throw you away like a used tissue the moment you have nothing else to offer. I know that better than anyone…” When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she looked up to see Sam smiling kindly at her, doing her best to get out of her comfort zone and offer her some comfort. She returned the smile. “Bottom line: you want real friends, so you never talk about your money ‘cause you don’t want to attract the wrong people. I get it.”
“You really do.”
“And I guess I’m also flattered.”
Sam blinked slowly at her. “Wow, Valerie. It usually takes a lot to take me by surpriseーwith the ghost fighting and allーand yet, here we are!”
The huntress just chuckled softly in response. “What I mean is that I understand that it takes you a lot to let people inーand quite literally tooーbut you still invited me. That means you must trust me, if only a bit.”
Sam couldn’t help but blush at her earnest words. It was true, wasn’t it? She trusted Valerie. She would have never invited her to her house if she didn’t. And, now that she thought about it, Valerie had to trust her too if she was willing to show her vulnerable side to her. Somehow, the thought made her smile. Knowing she would have to bring up uncomfortable topics soon, the violet-eyed girl decided to alleviate some of the tension first. “Well, I’m glad you could at least get your black belt first! Otherwise we would be in for a major asskicking from some ghosts.”
That comment actually made Valerie laugh. “Oh, hush, you flatterer! Or I’ll tell Danny his girlfriend has been hitting on me.” She could only snort when Sam gasped in fake shock. “Seriously, though. I personally would love to be as genre savvy as you are. I mean, you always know what to do or have some obscure knowledge about whatever we’re facing. From the Fright Knight’s legend to how to train your dragon ghost.”
Sam merely shrugged with a lazy grin on her face, “What can I say? Obscure knowledge sort of comes with being a Goth.”
The two girls started snickering after that. As their laughter died down, Valerie noticed Sam’s smile fading from the corner of her eye, concerning her. “Sam? Is everything okay?”
“Valerie...I’m sorry.”
That took her by surprise. After a few seconds of shock, the Red Huntress rolled her eyes good-naturedly before gently nudging her friend with her shoulder. “C’mon, Sam. I told you already. You don’t have to feel sorry for inviting meー.”
This time it was Sam who cut her off. She shook her head. “No. No, it’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’m sorry for the way I used to act towards you when we were fourteen,” she admitted before softly adding, “especially when you and Danny were beginning to connect.”
One would think that a semi-professional ghost huntress would have seen it all, and honestly, so did Valerie, but she was genuinely shocked at Sam’s apology. The shock didn't last long, though. “Are you seriously apologising for that? Sam, that was two years ago!”
Of all the things she could be apologising for...She just had to pick that one, didn’t she?
Sam groaned, frustrated and clenching her gym shorts with her hands. “I know it’s been two years, but that doesn’t change that I wasn’t the most pleasant person in the world to you for reasons that weren’t...completely pure.”
“So what?” Valerie insisted. “Neither was I for the longest time! You and Tucker were right when you called me out during Pariah Dark’s attack; how could I expect to be treated like one of the group when I used to be such a brat to you? You still eventually forgave me.” She pointed out.
“You don’t understand…” Sam whined as she rubbed her face with her hands. “While it’s true that part of my animosity towards you came from how you used to treat us, and another good chunk came from your eagerness to vaporise one of my best friends,” the Red Huntress actually had the decency to blush embarrassedly at that, “I really, really disliked you because I was...well, I was jealous. Plain and simple.”
There. She’d said it. After years gritting her teeth and burning with envy whenever Danny and Tucker (mostly because of Danny, obviously) drooled over Paulina or any other pretty girl, she had finally admitted she was mostly jealous instead of simply not understanding what the fuss was about. Hanging out with girls more often, namely Valerie and Jazz, instead of only spending her time with the guys had really helped broaden her horizons. Especially when it came to her opinion on other girls. She was proud to say she was finally moving on from her “not like other girls” phase.
Even if Danny’s crush on Paulina had driven her nuts more than once, it was his budding romance with Valerie that truly pushed all her buttons and caused her deepest insecurities to rear their ugly head. Even if dating her was dangerous, Danny still wanted to be with her! He was willing to throw caution to the wind if it meant they could be a couple. And he was so protective of her when Technus attacked… As much as Sam hated to admit it, as much as she wished (to Hell with Desirée) she could ignore it all and just focus on protecting Danny from being hunted by his new girlfriend, that hurt.
That hurt a lot.
Albeit annoying, Danny’s crush on Paulina was safe. Paulina only liked Danny Phantom. Danny couldn’t really get closer to her as his alter-ego without putting her in danger, and Danny would never put an innocent person in danger. And just like that, Paulina became unattainable. But Valerie…
Valerie liked Danny Fenton. She and Danny often just wanted to have a normal life, away from ghosts and burdens that no 14-year-old kid should shoulder. Even if the Red Huntress wanted to kill Danny Phantom, Valerie genuinely liked Danny Fenton. Despite the danger, she was closer than Paulina. And despite their close bond, she was closer to Danny than Sam herself. Because Valerie wasn’t afraid to admit her feelings, unlike her.
In fact, hadn’t Valerie put her job before her love life, Sam knew without an ounce of a doubt that she and Danny would still be together. Because she had been too afraid to tell Danny how much he meant to her sooner.
Yes, she had been jealous of Valerie.
She had been jealous of the attention she received from Danny. She had been jealous of the fact that they went out on several dates and nothing could embarrass them or ruin their little moment. She was jealous because it would’ve meant things would change.
But most importantly, she was jealous of Valerie’s guts.
And she finally confessed it.
...which made what Valerie said next all the more jaw-dropping.
“Yeah, I know.”
Her jaw hanging low and eyes as wide as saucers, Sam slowly turned her head to look the huntress dead in the eye. “You know?” She asked, completely flabbergasted.
Valerie snorted. She actually snorted at her question! And while Sam was looking at her with the most comically astonished expression on the face of the planet, Valerie just regarded her with a coy smile. “No offence, Sam, but it was kinda hard to miss. I think only Danny wasn’t aware of it.”
Sam had nothing to say in response to that.
“Besides, didn’t I tell you before I even started going out with Danny? When you like someone, if you don’t make a move, somebody else will. What did you think I was referring to other than your feelings, chess?”
“That...is true.” The Goth admitted quietly.
Seeing her usually outspoken friend acting so despondent all of a sudden didn’t sit well with the green-eyed teenager. She sighed, “Look, Sam. I understand that you were...difficult because you were jealous. I can’t deny I once or twice acted petty towards you because I was jealous, myself. But even if I hadn’t decided to just stay friends with Danny, I don’t think we would’ve worked out in the end.”
Not for the first time that day, and she was sure it wouldn't be the last time either, Valerie had taken her completely aback. Furrowing her brow in confusion, Sam insisted, “What are you talking about? You two are the best ghost hunters in Amity Park, you guys would have been the ultimate power couple!”
Leaning back on her elbows, the Red Huntress sent the Goth a smirk, “Ah, but you’re forgetting I would’ve had to know Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom were one and the same first. And I…”, for the first time since their sparring lesson began, Valerie found herself hesitating, “I don’t know how I would’ve taken that.
“Sure, I really, really liked Danny, but I had spent far longer hating his ghost half. Ever since the Cujo-related incidents I blamed him for the turn my life had taken. And even when I was growing fond of Danny Fenton, his actions as Danny Phantom still drove me nuts! I mean, he literally unmasked me right before my dad! He forbade me from ghost hunting until I got that upgrade in my suit. Could I really put all that aside in favour of having a relationship with him?
“That’s why it took me so long to face you guys once I learned the truth; I was trying to make peace with it all. I figured I could learn to forgive Danny, maybe even trust him with my life...but never with my heart again. There were too many imbalances between us for me to be comfortable in a relationship with him...and you guys are honestly better together anyways.” She winked at the ultra-recyclo-vegetarian.
“You really think so?” Sam could feel the heat making its way to her cheeks the moment Valerie nodded at her question. “I-I mean!”, ugh, how she hated stuttering!, “Danny’s always been super important to me...obviously! And we’ve always done our best to be there for each other and have each other’s backs, but there are times when I can’t help but wonder if perhaps we’re just making a mistake and we were better off as friends…” She finished with a defeated sigh.
At the sensation of an arm wrapped around her shoulders, she turned to look at Valerie. “Sam, trust me. This is no mistake. You’re one of the very few people who understand there’s no difference between Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom; they’re both Danny and you’ve always known that and done your best to show him just that. And unlike Paulina or me, even if you hadn’t known his secret from the beginning, I’m willing to bet my right arm that you would’ve accepted both sides of him equally either way.”
At her words, Sam could only smile warmly, “You really think so?”
Valerie returned her smile. “I know so.”
Still replaying Valerie’s words and organising her own thoughts in her head, Sam turned to face her, one hand resting on her lap and the other on Valerie’s shoulder, “For what it’s worth, I still think that after a, very understandable, initial bump in your relationship, you two could’ve made a great couple too. I meant what I said when I told you that, if Danny liked you, then we would only have to make room for you at our table. I can’t think of any girl I would be willing to do that for but you, Val.”
Valerie almost gasped at Sam’s words, but she recovered rather quickly, “Thank you, Sam. That means a lot coming from you.” Resting her own hand on top of the one on her shoulder, she winked mischievously at her, “And don’t worry; I don’t go around stealing my friends’ boyfriends.”
The Goth girl snorted at that. “Glad to hear that.”
They remained like that for a moment, just enjoying the comfortable silence that had settled between them and their secret understanding. They were friends. They had similarities and differences. But that would never change the respect each felt for the other.
Finally, getting up from the floor and dusting herself off, Valerie broke the silence, “Come on, there’s still many moves I haven’t used to kick your butt.”
Sam smirked at the challenge, “Oh, you’re so on!”
................
The Fentons’ Emergency Ops Centre had, ironically, become their safe haven.
Whenever they wanted to enjoy some alone time before they had to part ways or a ghost attack took place, they would simply climb up the roof and enter through the door leading to it. Although Danny could just phase or fly them there if they were really pressed for time, which was their usual way of getting there because they were always pressed for time.
The Ops Centre was really just an excuse to spend some time together, really.
It didn’t matter what they did. Sometimes they would make out because they were a couple and couples made out with each other, didn’t they? Especially when said couple consisted of two hormone-driven teenagers. Maybe if they’d been a pair of octogenarians, the fuss of the relationship would have been elsewhere. Like how incredible it was that they’d survived that long in the first place.
Other times they just talked about nothing and everything at the same time. Sort of like what they usually did, but without Tucker. Sam would often talk about the latest hideous monstrosity their parents had intended she wore ー”Oh, you’re laughing now! But trust me, Undergrowth had much better fashion sense than my parents!”ー, or how rapidly the poles were melting and nobody was doing anything about it, or how her latest poetry reading went ー“Kwan’s getting better, actually. This time he wrote about the new scabs he got during the last game”ー, and how they could defeat the villain of the week who was somehow harder to beat than the previous one because, really, they always got harder to beat.
And Danny would recall his parents’ latest shenanigans, or Jazz’s newest psychological experiment with ghosts that she was sure was going to work because it was just flawless; or he’d warn her about the food in his house ー”I know you don’t eat meat anyways, but don’t open the fridge. The ecto-weenies are back and this time they’ve brought BBQ sauce.” He would also complain about the workload of homework Mr Lancer had assigned them; sometimes because he didn’t think he’d have the time to finish it all, and sometimes he just didn’t know where to start because what the Heck is irony anyway? Didn’t anyone realise that what they often called irony was actually more of a paradox? How could they be teaching something wrong in English class?! And, sometimes, in those rare moments where Danny finally realised, only to forget his lesson all over again the next day, that he could count on her, Tucker, Jazz, Val ーand his loved ones, damn it!ー and confide his deepest secrets, he would open up about how being Danny Phantom was taking its toll on him. How being famous was more often than not more suffocating than flattering. How he was getting tired that his enemies only ever came back, or became stronger, or multiplied. How he feared, no, how he felt it was never going to end until he was 100% dead and not just 50%... He even still had trouble understanding what truly happened to him the day of the accident.
And maybe they just would never know.
And then, there were days like today. Days where they would just stay in silence, watching Amity Park since the makeshift observatory his zany but genius parents had built all on their own. Because, sometimes, watching the sunset in silence with that special someone was just enough.
While Danny leaned against the railing, Sam was sitting on top of it, enjoying the soft breeze blowing around her and caressing her skin. “Today I trained with Valerie.”
Perking up at the sound of her voice suddenly breaking the silence, Danny turned his head slightly in her direction. “Oh?” He let out, “How did it go?”
“I managed to last a full five minutes and land a few serious hits myself.” She stated proudly.
The ghost boy whistled appreciatively, “Five full minutes! Now that’s impressive.” He sent her a sly look and a smirk, his admiration turning into amusement, “And how many hits did you cushion?”
Curling her lip in annoyance, Sam muttered, “The fact that I’m even sitting here is a miracle in itself.”
That had Danny snickering like crazy, before a sharp pain in his arm stopped him, “Ow!”
To his surprise, instead of a smug Sam as he expected, he found his girlfriend gingerly rubbing her arm, a pained expression on her face. “Okay,” she panted, “that was so not worth it.”
“Here, let me help.” Gently resting his fingers on her arm, he used his ice powers to send a chilly sensation across her limb, effectively alleviating the pain. “Anything else I should know about? Did the training turn into a battle to the death?”
“Actually, we talked things out and we finally buried the hatchet.” She said seriously.
Danny furrowed the brow in confusion. “Uh, Sam? I was kidding. And I thought you already did that when she found out the truth about my powers.”
Chuckling softly, Sam could only roll her eyes with a smile on her face as she leaned close to leave a tender kiss on his lips before whispering, “Clueless.”
#Danny Phantom#dp#dp fic#dp fanfic#sam manson#valerie gray#danny fenton#tucker foley#jazz fenton#jack fenton#maddie fenton#paulina sanchez#vlad masters#vlad plasmius#most characters are just mentioned though#amethyst ocean#danny/sam#my fic
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So, I am re-watching Danny Phantom and the idea of Lancer caring for an ill Danny crossed my mind after I read all the ones I could find. I also toyed with Danny’s powers; him being able to change, obviously, but also seance and see dead spirits (and ghosts; leaving spirits and ghosts as separate entities) walking around. Basically, I upped the rating on Danny Phantom and combined Klaus Hargreeves powers with Danny’s own abilities.
Also, I’ll say, and maybe it’s the song I’m listening to, or the fact that I was reworking Greenberg and Coach from TW, but I got the picture of Danny showing up at Lancer’s door, high off his ass mumbling about Sam, Ghosts, and other teenager things.
…………………………………..
Lance Lancer had never seen a kid so sick, nor did he remember his own son ever being this ill. Danny groaned loudly, curling further into himself, his arms tightly protecting his stomach as his nails dug bloody indents on his forearms. He was shivering, his ghost sense going off every few minutes, creating a barely visible burst of cold air biting back against his sweaty flesh. He clenched his eyes shut as he tried to forget about the spirits flooding the room. As he tried to forget their voices, their screams, their hands brushing over him as they pleaded for him to look. As they begged for him to help.
Lancer bit his bottom lip as he pressed his hand harder against the 17-year-old’s shaking front shoulder, his other trying to work through some of the knots plaguing the boy’s shoulder blades. He shouldn’t have this many tight muscles, this much stress forced in his back at his age… and the fact that Danny seemed to curl tighter into himself, straining his muscles further every time he took a slow, shallow breath, worried the English teacher more.
The teenager groaned again, clenching his eyes shut tighter as he swallowed quickly, letting out a shaky breath. He stilled, hoping his lack of movement would help ease the nausea stampeding through his body and after taking several slow breaths, he relaxed. He hated being sick… not that anyone loved puking their guts out for hours, let alone in someone else’s home, but his ghost sense always made him on-edge, unable to sleep peacefully or unwind. Every spark of Ghost-breath as Tucker called it, sent violent shivers through him making it harder for his body to heat or cool properly.
The last time Danny remembered being this sick was a few days after the Accident. He’d been on a famous “Fenton Family Vacation,” which was just code for some lame ghost-convention his parents attended every year, forcing their two kids to cram in the RV for a 12-hour car trip to some middle-class hotel. Usually, Jazz and Danny occupied their time exploring the city or making fun of the people who attended the convention. But since the Accident a few days before, for Danny, the family vacation turned into 3-days of complete feverish hell as his body tried to figure out how to survive with only half an immune system, half the person he used to be.
There wasn’t much to remember from that experience except cold showers, endless puking, aimless wondering in some sauna-type hotel as Danny tried running from himself, and the vague memory of leaning against his father several times as his mother coaxed him to take whatever foul-tasting liquid she wanted him to drink. Whether or not his parents actually attended the convention, or if Jazz had explored the same boring city, Danny couldn’t remember. But he remembered his parents arguing, his sister cradling him to her chest on the bathroom floor, and at some point, crouching under the bathroom counter as he forced himself small, trying to hide from the green-eyed, white-haired kid in the mirror or the bloody, contorted people following him. Since then, sickness never came easy despite his immune system being half-dead or ghosted or whatever it was Tucker had told him.
The 17-year-old pressed his face against the comforter, lessening the pain shooting through his temples as the thought of puking again slowly began to evade, and his head welcomed the soft cool fabric cushioning the migraine eating away at his jawline. He was lying at the edge of the bed, curled into what had to be a pathetic sweaty ball, his knees pulled halfway to his chest as he braced his arms across his stomach. This was hell. It had to be. Because only some sick fuck would make him miserable, feverishly grasping what little reality he could hold onto, and so nauseous he couldn’t move, away from his parents with only Mr. Lancer as his only comfort. It was some kind of sick joke.
Danny’s stomach churned, and he swallowed hard, his hands clammy against his overheated skin, trying to will whatever else he could possibly still have in his stomach, back down. He stilled again, breathing shallowly through his nose, feeling his stomach relax slightly. He sighed internally, praying to God he was done puking as heat lit through his veins, and Danny lurched, retching loudly as he shut his eyes, willing for everything to stop. He had no strength left to hold himself up; his mind fuzzy and everything hard to piece together through sweaty nauseating moments. He whimpered as he lurched again, retching as bitter acidic bile spewed from his mouth, running down his chin, and the 17-year-old coughed harshly, tightening his grip across his stomach, and clenching his eyes shut as he struggled to breathe through the rest of it.
He felt something wipe across his chin and mouth, his stomach lurching further at the thought of the humiliation of being so exhausted and sick he couldn’t even be bothered to wipe any of his vomit away from him. Danny whimpered loudly, letting foul saliva pool from his mouth as his stomach heaved, hanging his head off the edge of the bed over what he had been hoping for the past two hours was a wastebasket… but considering Lancer had rapidly become more concerned with other ailments such as the teenager’s temperature or the tight muscles straining in his shoulders and back, the 17-year-old was willing to bet the dark wooden floor wasn’t pretty. He’d also been too scared to look, not wanting the guilt of Lancer having to clean up his vomit added onto the guilt and humiliation he already felt.
“Alright. Easy, Daniel. It’s alright… just let it all up. It’s alright,” Lancer said as softly as he could. He was pretty sure the kid was mostly delirious by now, his fever spiking as sweat layered on top of him, soaked through damp clothes and sheets that were plastered to the teenager’s pale skin. He couldn’t even hold himself up anymore, his face pressed against the edge of the bed while Lancer kept a firm grasp on his shoulder so the kid wouldn’t topple off.
Lancer pressed the disregarded and mostly warm rag from the nightstand against the teenager’s face; forehead, cheeks, neck, trying his best to mop up as much sweat as he could, trying to cool Danny off as much as he could without physically carrying him into the bathroom and forcing him under a cold shower. It wasn’t ideal, and Lancer knew from previous experience with his own son, it wouldn’t be pretty; but considering Lancer was currently in charge of the poor kid, he was willing to do whatever was necessary. He’d just never seen a kid so sick.
Lightening flashed outside as a branch scrapped against the glass windowpane, thunder clashing loudly as rain continued to beat against the old house. The small leak in the roof audible in the kitchen as tiny droplets fell against some crappy tin figurines his wife failed to take in the divorce. Lancer had always hated them… but he didn’t have the heart to toss them… or admit to himself that those stupid scrap metal trinkets were his last thread he had tied to her. His last hope that maybe she’d come back. But it’d been 12 years… and she wasn’t coming back. Neither was Charlie.
Danny coughed harshly, flinching as something cool touched the back of his neck, brushing sweaty sticky hair matted to his neck from his burning flesh. He felt like he was on fire. No, worse… his core was always cold, freezing almost; so, his temperature was lower than any other humans. So, the fire eating away at his muscles and memories, was excruciating.
He coughed again, wheezing slightly as his heart skipped. He had to be breathing faster than normal… hell, he was breathing faster than normal. Air sucked through achy lungs and forced out through a dry mouth as his heart tried keeping up the pace. He swallowed, pulling his knees further to his chest, shivering again as his ghost sense went off, and he opened his eyes slightly, wincing as the dark room spun in a multitude of blacks, browns, and dark purples. Red mixed against almost translucent flesh as faces inched closer, and Danny’s stomach lurched, hard, as his eyes met the contorted and split face of a middle-aged man in coveralls.
The teenager choked, swallowing loudly as his stomach cramped again, barely feeling Lancer’s hands trying desperately to work out the clenched muscles in his back. Blood dripped from the man’s face; his appearance split into two as his smile dropped in opposite directions. Normally, Danny could ignore it; ignore them… but it was worse when he was vulnerable. He couldn’t block them out. And to be completely honest, the past couple of months hadn’t been easy on him.
He and Sam had broken up before they ever began dating. Tucker had maintained under the radar both boyfriends and girlfriends while helping his childhood crush, Valerie, pick off the ghosts Danny had missed. They were still close, the three of them; but Sam had been more distant, avoiding plans with Danny when it was just the two of them… and deep down the teenager knew it was his fault. Everything was.
The 17-year-old bit his lip, blood coating his tongue as he buried his nails further against his flesh. Sam had almost died. She had been willing to sacrifice everything for Danny… and that was something Danny would never have been able to live with. He had fucked up. He had tried to help… and she had almost died. The faint tan scars still visible against her neckline, shining as a reminder in the sunlight and under the florescent lighting in the chemistry lab. Since then, she’d been doing her best to avoid Danny, and Danny let her. He couldn’t face her. He didn’t know how.
That had been months ago, but it still flooded the teenager’s mind every time he glanced in her direction. Every time their hands touched in chemistry… every time she forced a watered-down excuse past purple lipstick. The sigh. That sigh. She had been scared of him that night. He saw it. The fear plagued across her face. The horror. And Danny didn’t blame her because he scared himself nowadays too.
He felt colder than he had been in his youth, emotions concrete against things that troubled his peers. His demeanor seemed further away as he toppled over the puny shadow of his early years. He wasn’t a pushover; Dash didn’t come near him anymore… but he was still outcasted, marked freakshow as newer threats and tougher bullies appeared. Sam had borne witness to things Tucker knew nothing about; she had seen a darker side of Danny that the teenager tried so damn hard to hide. But it was getting harder… the spirits were bleeding through more and more, scratching his mind and haunting him with nightmares that kept the 17-year-old up most nights. Nothing was a comfort anymore. Not even his friends. Not even his sister.
The teenager’s stomach lurched again, and he felt cooper flood his mouth as he bit his lip harder, forcing his eyes shut, cutting off the images around him as the spirits continued to scream. He breathed through his nose slowly, feeling Lancer’s hand grip his fingers as he tried to pry the teenager’s grip baring against his sweaty flesh.
“Wuthering Heights, Daniel!” Lancer breathed, still trying to force Danny’s fingers away from his arm as the small bloody marks from his nails became visible. Despite visibly shaking, and his breathing coming in teeth-chattering waves, Lancer was surprised Danny’s grip remained resilient. Likewise, when Danny had grabbed his wrist in the hallway earlier, when Lancer had startled the teenager, his icy-blue eyes daggered towards him, watching the older man’s actions, his fingers tight and threatening around his wrist… Lancer had been taken aback by the teenager’s strength. Just like now.
The English teacher sighed, giving up and pressing his hand against the 17-year-old’s shoulder once more as Danny lurched, coughing harshly. Concern and sympathy ate away at Lancer’s expression; his own actions feeling clumsy and foreign as he tried to soothe the teenager as much as he could. As much as he remembered. But he hadn’t comforted his own son in almost 12 years… and Danny had become much more distant and independent over the past three. So, the comfort Lancer used to try and reassure the kid, felt awkward, just as the sickened pain written across the teenager’s pale face, looked wrong.
The lights flickered above, and Lancer glanced up, hoping he wasn’t going to lose power as that would add to his already worrying list of problems. Lightening cracked again, a tree in the front yard visible momentarily as a branch fell against the window, rain threatening to break glass, and the distant sound of a tornado signal blaring through Amity Park.
Danny whimpered loudly, clenching his eyes as voices cut through his skull, pounding against the pain enveloped in his forehead and cheekbones, trailing down his jawline and neck. The bed spun despite the teenager being curled into a tight motionless ball, sweat falling from his hairline as the smell of body odor reached his nostrils, and the 17-year-old gagged.
Lancer pressed a reassuring hand against the teenager’s shoulder, murmuring he’d be right back before rising, grabbing the lukewarm rag from the nightstand, and trashcan from beside the bed as he made his way towards the kitchen. After replacing the trash bag and running the rag through cold water, Lancer sighed loudly, pressing his hands against the counter as he watched water droplets forming through the small hole in his ceiling and ping against the metal statues harbored on the bar.
He huffed again, running a tired hand over his bald head as he stared at his reflection in the dark window. The electricity shut off as the lights flickered before the microwave beeped loudly as the powerlines fought against the storm. He didn’t need this. And if there was any type of superior being looking out for him, they’d keep the lights on. At least, Lancer would have one thing going for him then.
He sighed again, glancing towards the direction of his guestroom then back towards his reflection. It was nearing 5am, and despite the sun aimed to rise in an hour, Lancer doubted it would bleed through the storm that had showed no signs of letting up. He wished it would, wished the skies would clear… wished flights would take off because that meant Danny’s parents and sister could fly home. They’d be able to take better care their son… they’d know what to do. Lancer didn’t. He hadn’t been a dad in years… he hadn’t looked after someone in years…
Danny had been miserable all day, this had become evident to Lancer in 4th period as he berated the teenager for once again sleeping in his class. His cocky, sarcastic attitude pushing the English teacher to his limit as he awarded the 17-year-old with another days’ detention. But it hadn’t been until later that Lancer began to notice things he should have seen to begin with. The dark circles, pale complexion, the bloody nose, and red tint painted across sharp cheekbones; his voice, cracked and sudden, as Danny retorted sarcasm aimed to hurt… his stare gazing past whatever Lancer had been teaching, staring at nothing but looking at everything.
Lancer shook his head as he glanced down at the red coffee cup and abandoned bowl of cereal lying in the sink. This had not been in his Wednesday evening plans… then again, there was no way in hell Lancer was going to let the teenager go home to an empty house. Lord knows what could have happened, and the fact that Danny’s temperature had spiked in the night, confirmed any doubts the older man had of letting the kid stay with him until his parent’s plane landed, which had been grounded until tomorrow evening, at best.
The older man glanced back towards his reflection, catching sight of the radar flashing across the television in his living room, silently. The storm was huge, coming from the Gulf, pressure building from the North and East as it moved slowly over Amity Park. And it was only expected to get worse which was ironically befitting. Lancer had played with the idea of taking Danny to the Emergency Room several times within the past few hours; the only thing stopping him was the question of what was more dangerous: Danny’s illness or the storm?
Jack Fenton had argued while on the phone with Lancer that he had half a mind to rent a car and drive back, despite it being a 20-hour drive back to upstate New York. But much to the English teacher’s amusement, Mr. Fenton’s plan had been shot down from his wife in the background, asking Lancer the condition of her son. Danny’s sister groaning loudly in the background, yelling something about embarrassment. But that had been yesterday evening…
And now. Danny couldn’t keep anything down, not even the miniscule amounts of water Lancer had encouraged him to take to prevent dehydration. His fever had spiked from 102 yesterday to 104.8 through the night, and most of the hardened demeanor Lancer had come to expect from his pupil over the years, was vanquished within a matter of hours. The tough, fuck-you-attitude Danny had adapted, was replaced with the youthfulness of his age. Only 17. He was still a kid; scared, alone, and whether he wanted to admit it, trying his best not to cause his teacher any further inconveniences than he already had. And despite Lancer finding the teenager’s attempts admirable, he found himself at a loss of trying to convince not only the teenager, but himself, that he only wanted to help, to make the kid feel better. But Lancer was so far out of his parental element, and he’d never seen a kid so sick before.
It hadn’t taken long once Lancer had settled down for the night, warming his hands against a mug of tea, quietly watching the news, for things to take a turn. Danny had been rather quiet during the drive to Lancer’s house, slumped in the passenger side, forehead pressed against frosted glass and still mumbling in disagreement with whoever thought he needed a babysitter every couple of minutes. The 17-year-old had attempted to convince Lancer he was fine, that he felt better since puking in detention, and his parents were overreacting. And despite sloppily scribbling through his homework, half of which the older man was certain Danny hadn’t even bothered to read, the teenager remained sullen, flushed, barely touching the sandwich Lancer had offered.
After some time spent brooding in a chair at the kitchen table, Danny had apparently concluded his English teacher wasn’t going to take him home anytime soon. He seemed more compliant then, taking up to inspecting Lancer’s memorabilia instead, trying his best to leave everything exactly as he’d found it. The older man had admired how careful the 17-year-old had been when picking up photos or knickknacks, casting weird what-the-hell-is-this glances towards his teacher as he explored.
Something sounded to his right, and Lancer blinked, running another hand over his head as he cleared his mind. Most of the things taking up refuge in the old house were objects ghosted with the memories of previous family, previous love, a previous life. He had never had the heart to take them down… it was creepily comforting.
Lancer sighed, reaching for the water-soaked rag puddling on the counter as something moved in the corner of his eye causing the older man to jump. He turned, facing the 17-year-old leaning heavily against the wooden arch of the hallway, shaking as he pressed a hand firmly against the wall for support, the rest of his lanky form hunched.
“Great Gatsby, Fenton! What are you doing up?” Lancer advanced, his tone slightly harsher than intended causing the older man to grimace. The teenager looked fairly close to passing out, a hand on his stomach firmly, the other grasped at flat wallpaper. Sweat trailing down his flushed face, forming in droplets at the kid’s chin before melting into his sweat-soaked shirt. Red set high across the bridge of his nose, painting his cheeks as he opened his mouth to speak before closing it, confusion setting across his features.
Lancer made a move towards the teenager as Danny stepped back, his eyes wide as they observed the older man cautiously. The English teacher raised an eyebrow, taking another step forward, a sick feeling sitting in the pit of his stomach as the teenager recoiled once more. Lancer cursed softly, pushing his hand towards the 17-year-old slowly, his voice low and calm as Danny reeled back. Lancer hesitated, “I’m not going to hurt you, Daniel.”
Danny pressed against the wall as Lancer took another step forward, leaning a shoulder against the wall, his eyebrows furrowing together as he tried to focus on the swimming interior around him. He couldn’t breathe, the air around him sucked from tired lungs, voices piercing through his head as he raised a shaky hand to his ear, wincing loudly as the spirits around him grew louder. He clenched his eyes shut, feeling his body struggle against the wall supporting him as he jerked away, wincing again as questions pelted him, begging, pleading for his help, for him to look. Look. Look! Just look at what had happened to them!
“Daniel?” Lancer questioned quickly, stepping forward again as the teenager gasped loudly, forcing a hand against his left ear as blood began dripping slowly from his nose, his shoulder slamming against the ugly wallpaper, “Daniel? Danny! Hey!”
The 17-year-old felt something brush against his wrist, and he forced his eyes open against the harsh lights flickering above him. Everything was hot, confusing, mashed together in a nauseating off-kilter vibrancy that hurt; his legs refusing to support him, lungs unwilling to take air as panic took over as he tried to clear his head, as he tried to remember where the hell he was.
He grimaced, sliding against the wall as his legs fought to keep him upright. He felt wrong. Everything felt wrong, weird, gone. He swallowed, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, fear crossing his face as he pulled back, red sticky liquid coating his fingertips. Tears threatened to spill as he tried to catch his breath. This was his fault. Everything. And now he had blood on his hands. Sam’s blood.
Piercing cut through as Danny pressed a shoulder to his ear, crying out as the man in coveralls laughed, reaching towards him. Danny dropped to his knees, his fingers trembling as they slid down the wallpaper, forcing a picture of a little boy in a baseball uniform to the ground; the glass breaking around it as it smashed against the wood flooring. Tears clouded his vision as he glanced towards the photo, the blonde-haired kid morphing, mirroring Danny’s own reflection through splintered glass.
“No,” The 17-year-old choked, pulling the photo from the floor, glass splinters slicing his trembling fingers as the kid’s gap-tooth smile distorted. He couldn’t breathe; suffocating fear eating away at him as he realized he was gone. The kid in the photo was gone. Taken, dead, his soul split, lifeless as the portal had taken everything from him. He had died, leaving behind grief and broken disappointment. His friend’s hurt, bleeding out on the side of the road as Danny struggled to hold onto any humanity he had. As he struggled to save those he should have left long ago.
Blood dotted the photo, the boy’s face hidden by crimson, and Danny wiped his hand under his nose again, smearing blood across his face. The innocent boy in the photo was gone; he had killed himself in the Accident, left behind by evil contentment and a nightmarish reality that he’d never been good enough. He was broken, built in a sweetness that no longer existed, a black gaping hole where his soul was, under aching ribs, sweaty skin and a tormented, fucked up version of himself. A black pit of beautiful disappointment. An unlovable thing. He had become something unlovable, the portal killing the good and resurrecting the bad, and even that wasn’t worth much. He wasn’t worth much.
Danny gagged harshly, crumpling the photo in his hands as the leftover glass pressed into his palm. The floor swaying under his body as he grasped the wall for any support he could find. He wanted to go back; to be his parent’s innocent little boy again, to forget about the shitstorm around him, forget about the portal, forget about those he’d hurt, the blood he’d shed. But that was unfixable. He was. And unforgivable. He’d hurt Sam; hurt others, the blood of death splattered on what was left of himself, his human self. And in the end, he was the cause of everything; the collector of souls, the Grim Reaper labelled by Freakshow years ago. The bringer of death.
Lancer took another cautious step forward, crunching down before reaching once more towards the teenager as Danny crumpled sideways, slamming against the wall beside him. The older man faltered. Sweat glistened against the 17-year-old’s face as he gulped for air, his breathing harsh and sporadic as he pressed a trembling hand against his chest, eyes towards Lancer, clearly alarmed by his own breathing. He coughed roughly, doubling over as he caught his breath, and Lancer reached towards the kid, his fingers brushing against the sweat-soaked cotton fabric clinging to Danny’s shoulders.
The 17-year-old flinched, shoving his English teacher away from him harshly, wincing again as he pressed his shoulder to his left ear. He fell backwards, his knees failing him as he slammed against the wall, his head smacking against the small hall table. Darkness swallowed him momentarily, his hands shaking as the photo was crumpled tighter in his hands, letting out a strangled cry as the spirits towered over him, their eyes white, pupils missing as they shouted his name.
The electricity failed as the teenager recoiled violently, and Lancer swore the kid’s cold-blue eyes flashed green before the lights flickered back on, the light in the living room broke, glass shattering to the ground as Danny flinched, gripping one of the iron legs of the hall table, tightly. He eyed Lancer, his knuckles white against black, his forehead pressed against the cold metal, his breathing labored as he pulled his knees towards him in an effort to make his lanky form small.
The 17-year-old coughed, the sound hurting his chest, forcing his headache to crawl, spreading across his shoulders. He grasped at the metal leg of the table, yearning for more cold than the iron rod was willing to give as he sucked in breath after breath. He couldn’t think anymore, the heat had taken everything from him, had taken his core, leaving him with a spinning floor, voices flooding in dizzying waves, and the horrifying notion he was surrounded by death. He had died… the portal had stolen half of him, and now, the nightmares screaming at him, had killed whatever he had left. And the photo crushed in his hand was all he had of forgotten innocence.
Phantom had taken everything. And no one knew. No one understood. The beating, aching heart pounding in his chest was a lie. He was soulless; Phantom was soulless. Welcoming the darkness that swallowed the person Danny once was. And everything else, everything he did, was insignificant. His life was insignificant, a short dull buzz, a flicker. Just shit that happened and none of it meant anything. It was the flick on his lighter as he tried cupping his trembling hands against the wind, trying to spark one of the cigarettes he’d stolen from his father; the light fading, barely there; lighting what has killing him. Because no one wanted Danny Fenton. He was just a mask of stupid disappointment, broken and haunted by his past, damaged by unlovable fear. A shell of a person; a shell of a kid with nothing else to offer the world except the blood he was willing to spill. And then, life moved on.
Something pressed against his wrist, and the teenager yanked it back quickly, clawing at the back of his neck with both hands as he pressed his forehead against his knees, trembling as he tried blocking out all of them. Tried blocking out the tormented and lost souls swallowing him. He clawed again at the back of his neck, pressing his head between his sweaty arms as he rocked on his heels.
Something wet splashed against his joggers, barely noticeable against the heat plaguing him as the 17-year-old coughed. He clenched his arms over his ears as he realized he was crying, hard. He felt sick, wrong, the ghost sense no longer going off because he had nothing else left to give. Tears sliding down overheated flesh, meshing against black cotton as loud pleas left his mouth, the taste of blood sitting on his tongue. Something grabbed his arm, and Danny choked, “Please go away. Please go away. Go away. Go away. Go away...”
His parents would be disappointed. His sister would be a wreck. If they knew. Knew he had killed himself years ago; that the innocence that he once had, was gone; eaten away by the things his parents aimed to hurt. Danny Fenton had surrounded himself in a hypocritical tranquility; believing nothing past the Ghost Zone yet praying to God every night that there was a way out, a way away from himself, from Phantom. Because despite the good he’d done, bad followed him further, bathing his body in the blood of those around him. Sam’s screams, her tears, the fear she felt as Danny shred the last remaining hope of becoming more than the ghost killing him.
Some people deserved to die, and yet, he was the exception. An unkillable thing because the Accident had done that for him; and no amount of pills, cuts, stupid mistakes, or blood could take that from him. A cosmic joke of isolated soulless bullshit. The 17-year-old dug his nails harder into the back of his neck, coughing on the blood in the back of his throat as it smeared further down his chin. Tears mixed with the monster he’d become, crushing his heart as the reality of himself, the fact that no amount of water could wash away the pain he’d caused others, was coated in blood on halfa hands. An unholy thing.
Someone laughed, and Danny flinched, digging harder as something sticky coated his fingertips. The spirits were louder, yelling for him, scratching his skin as they tried forcing him to look; to look at their pain, to look at what had happened to them, at what he had done to them. The 17-year-old gagged as the scent of blood, dirt, and rotting flesh overpowered him. This was his fault. Their lives. Their souls. Death had collected those around him, pulling their individualities from themselves as the teenager tried to hang onto his. Danny was drowning in death, spirits shredding him, ghosts pulling him apart molecule-by-molecule as he constructed more damage than his parents ever could.
Air fell between his lips as his lungs refused to take any more. He couldn’t do this anymore. He needed his friends, his family- but they didn’t need him. They needed Phantom. Leaving Fenton as nothing more than a liability, a liar with cops and parents, a part-time substance abuser as he tried killing what everyone needed. Danny refused to move, pressing his body as hard as he could against the wall as spirits crowded him, ripping skin from his body, screaming for him to look at the damage around him, the lives he had taken.
The grip tightened on his arm, clawing at bruised skin as his world morphed and the ground hovered below him. He was pulled up, his body slamming against the spirits pulling towards him, no longer able to cooperate himself. He gagged loudly as he forced his eyes open, meeting the upside-down bloodied split face of the man in coveralls, an elderly woman praying in the corner, the back of her head blown off revealing dark grey matter.
Danny heaved as some of the grey matter fell from the woman’s white hair to her rosary, liquid meshing against him as the man in coveralls slapped another man, his head decapitating slightly, spewing blood across his vision. The teenager groaned as he glanced towards a German couple screaming at each other in the hall, the wall moving as hot fingers braced against the memories etched in the wood paneling and ugly wallpaper. He whimpered as he locked eyes with a small boy reading in the corner; the boy glanced up from his book and waved towards Danny as the 17-year-old wheezed.
Words passed his ears, muttered and useless as the pleas continued to pierce his mind. Red tears of pain he’d caused, spirits forcing him to look; their bodies distorted and warped as they screamed for the souls he had taken. The ones that had left him, a bloody and tormented ending of human life. His death was coming fast, Danny knew. He could feel it. A sudden drop-off from connection, any humanity left, falling moment-by-moment, a punctuating ending happening so involuntary fast as those would soon realize the monster he had become; realize the death he had collected. Danny retched weakly as the man in coveralls forced his head together, pain screaming from his mouth as lips that no longer wanted to meet, met, and hatred ate away at his features before the heat that fell from the 17-year-old washed over them, their bodies disappearing in the flames.
Danny gagged as the smell of menthol and stale sweat filled his nostrils, his head falling back further as a heartbeat echoed around him. Sweat trailing upward as blood fell back down in a disheveled passion, choking any air left, and the teenager’s body gave out. His eyes connected with the flames engulfing the man in coveralls, his disgust bleeding from his eyes as his face separated again before he disappeared in the fire. Danny whispered, “I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save anyone…”
His vision failed as he continued floating through those he couldn’t protect… and death swallowed what was left.
……………………………………………………………………………………………
Danny had fallen asleep, and relief settled across Lancer’s features as he took another slow sip of his tea, leaning further back in the couch. The teenager had been pretty quiet, but his looks and constant moving had become a distraction to the older man as he tried re-reading Pride and Prejudice. It’d been a long time since there’d been a kid in his home, and Lancer had forgotten how annoying they could be despite wrangling them during class as he desperately tried to pour some type of education into his students.
Lancer set his book down, glancing towards the television as the weatherman showed another map of the storm outside, the pictures flashing silently across the screen as Lancer hit mute. He sighed as rain began to pelt against the roof, the shutters on his windows slamming against the old brick harshly, and thunder echoing around a few other houses in the neighborhood as wind threatened to tear down the old house. It was going to be a long night if the storm kept up and the damage was probably going to cost him a fortune considering his salary wasn’t worth a lot these days.
The teenager coughed, and Lancer turned to see the kid curled at the other end of the couch. His head resting on the armrest at an awkward angle, his knees drawn to his chest as he refused to take any more space than needed, as he tried to force as much distance between himself and his teacher as possible. He shivered slightly, and Lancer wondered whether he should have told his charge to take the guestroom or given him a blanket… or checked for fever. After all, the 17-year-old had been trying to convince the teacher he was fine over the last few hours, but something about him, something about his demeanor told Lancer otherwise.
Lancer sighed again, setting his mug on the coffee table, eyeing the pile of books crammed into the rickety wooden shelf as it slanted forward. He needed to fix it, to buy another one before it fell, or before the weight of the books forced it down. He swallowed loudly as his eyes met the ripped, yellowed copy of Catcher in the Rye, dust coating it as it lay on the top shelf, untouched and abandoned for years. Despite all the books Lancer had reread, all the books he spent his nights enveloped in, that one, that book, he refused to touch… refused to move, to think about, to reread. Memories sat in its pages, crushed between folded pieces of paper from being read over and over, and that was something Lancer didn’t want to revisit, to think about, to remember.
Danny shifted uncomfortably, and the English teacher leaned back again, pulling his book from his lap once more, opening to the page he’d left off on. Considering it was closing in on midnight, Lancer debated heading to bed, but he hadn’t reread Jane Austen in a while. And besides, with the storm raging outside, and a kid he would feel guilty about waking, the older man considered waiting to see if he would need to dig the flashlights from the back of his silverware drawer before making any further decisions.
The ceiling fan sputtered slightly as the lights flickered, and Lancer grit his teeth as the teenager shivered again, his teeth chattered momentarily. Lancer sighed. The situation was uncomfortable needless to say; but Lancer had been a teacher and dad long enough to know that kids were good at hiding things… especially Daniel as he always had some excuse for his tardiness, his absences… his injuries. And a simple cold could turn quickly because most of the students at Casper High were walking petri dishes. Besides, Lancer and Danny’s parents agreed it was best, if the teenager were to become ill, to be surrounded by someone who could look after him or take responsibility for him if he were taken to the hospital seeing as he was still a minor and given the circumstances.
So yeah, the situation was uncomfortable; and Lancer knew that pissed Danny off. But the Fenton’s had gone with Jasmine to visit several Universities, refusing to let their only daughter attend if they couldn’t ensure the campuses were safe from ghosts. An amusing and almost stupid idea but considering Amity Park had seen its fair share of ghosts, not ridiculous. Besides Lancer could understand the Fenton’s concern, their protectiveness over their children as he once had felt it too. He knew what it was like to want to hide your kids from the evil in the world… to protect them, to hurt anything that hurt them, to give them everything. But that was gone now.
The lights flickered again as the screen door slammed against the side of the house. Wind howling outside as the news channel flashed a weather advisory warning across the screen, and Lancer exhaled, setting his book down, and leaning further against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, closing his eyes. It’d been a long day… like most. Lancer spent a good portion of his time trying to keep a classroom of 17-year-olds from laughing over the cringing dramaticism of The Mysteries of Udolpho. Considering most of the books he taught were classic romanticism or gothic, the English teacher understood he was faced with a level of immaturity from his students. After all, it was hard for 17-year-olds to fully grasp the concept of metaphorical and real monsters of society.
The other portion of his day was spent grading poorly written essays over whatever topic he had sought to assign his students for the week. Honestly, Lancer had come to the conclusion that the only capable student in his class, after Jasmine Fenton had graduated two years prior, was Tucker Foley. If only his intelligence would rub off on Daniel, Lancer would have very little to worry about. Clearly, the teenager was capable of decent grades as Lancer had always been surprised when Fenton passed an exam or book report. But he seemed more concerned in his peers, in his life outside academics, to give his grades the attention they needed. He wasn’t stupid, Lancer knew that… and considering he came from a family thriving on higher IQ’s than half the city, the English teacher was sure that if Danny put even a little effort in his studies, he’d have no problem climbing to number one in his graduating class just as Jazz had.
But Jasmine Fenton had been competitive; aiming for greatness through academics and challenging those who threatened her perfect GPA. Daniel, however, competed with his teachers, refusing their help as he challenged them, challenged Lancer on a daily basis. Danny’s comments and cockiness had become a problem in his classroom; his antics or clownishness, difficult, as he proved how very little he cared about his grades. And despite his attitude problem, the older man was almost certain the teenager suffered from ADHD, which would explain his inability to focus most of the time and his forgetfulness.
Today had been no different. And Lancer had given the 17-year-old several chances to correct his behavior, letting his less-than-quiet remarks slide under the radar as he continued teaching. But with the constant bickering between him and Tucker, the annoyed whispers from Sam, falling from his seat twice, and the inability to explain what page the class was even reading from, Lancer had had enough. He’d tried to push back, pointing his ruler in Daniel’s direction and explaining there was an idiot at the end of it; but this resulted in the teenager’s sarcastic question of which end? After the laughter had died down, Lancer retorted that the 17-year-old could find out in detention.
Normally, detention was Lancer’s chance to unwind; to bask in the quiet as he encouraged his students to take the time to go over their studies. But today had been different. Not only had the lights gone out more than twice during his 3-hour prison sentence, but Danny had seemed different than earlier that day. Distracted, his eyes out of focus, shivering, and his quiet, slumped demeanor. Usually, the 17-year-old was pouting, refusing to do any real work, or trying to rally those who shared detention with him. But today he just sat there, quietly tracing some type of drawing on his textbook with his finger, his head resting against his desk.
Lancer had let it go for a while… after all, it was beginning to become obvious something was wrong. But into the 2nd hour, the complete lack of motivation, had become annoying, eating away at the older man’s patience. The other students in the classroom had taken Danny’s character as an invitation to abandon their own work for better things such as texting, making paper planes, or horseplay. Through the 17-year-old’s melodramatic and pitiful attitude, Lancer was losing control of his classroom. That had been when things had taken a turn, going from long to endless.
The older man had risen, scowling the other students into compliance as he made his way towards the cause of his current problem. Lancer scoffed when the teenager didn’t even bother reacting to his presence, but continued tracing over the outline of Thomas Jefferson on his torn-up history textbook. And it hadn’t been until Lancer had slammed his copy of Northanger Abbey on the 17-year-old’s desk that Danny reacted.
He jumped, flinging his book from the desk as he jerked towards Lancer, a look of horror crossing his face as he straightened slightly. The older man crossed his arms, a stern look casted down as he raised an eyebrow while the teenager scrambled to grab his textbook from the floor, flipping to a random chapter. Lancer stood there for several minutes, ensuring Daniel was at least pretending to read the words in front of him, and to enforce his authority as the superior in the classroom to his other students. This didn’t last long.
Once he had situated himself back at his desk, opening his book to the last page he’d read, Danny had raised his hand. Lancer raised his head towards his pupil but ignored him and continued reading. After a few minutes, the teenager put his hand down but forced it in the air a few moments later. Again, the English teacher refused to acknowledge his student’s attempt to leave detention. Normally, Danny would give up and ride out the rest of his punishment, partially compliant. Lancer had learned this during the kid’s Sophomore year; refusing to acknowledge or give the teenager permission for whatever excuse he had, was the only way to ensure he completed detention without further incident.
Lancer watched from his peripheral as the 17-year-old dropped his hand, sighing loudly as he continued scanning the words in his barely passible history book; Lancer smiled slightly. Some quiet had passed, relaxing the mood in the room as the older man felt himself beginning to unwind from the day once again. A few seconds later, however, there had been a noise, and the older man had glanced up to see Daniel rushing from the room, his book once again smacked against the tiled floor. The remaining students had jumped, conversing amongst themselves as their eyes watched the open-door slam against the wall.
Lancer grit his teeth, a scowl crossing his face as he calmly rose, placing his book on his desk before glaring towards the remaining students. They straightened, returning to their tasks as the older man exited the classroom, closing the door gently as he traced over the small indent in the wall from the door handle slamming against it. He shook his head as he glared back inside the classroom to his students watching him before looking busy as the wooden door clicked shut.
Out of all his antics, Danny had never defied Lancer enough to leave. And something in his gut told the English teacher this was either a new low from the teenager or an incident that needed attending to. Lancer had hoped all that was needed was a harsh conversation and another week of detention, but as he rounded the corner past the lockers, the root of the 17-year-old’s behavior became evident.
The older man closed his eyes briefly, sighing loudly as he ran a hand over his bald head and made his way towards the kid. Danny was hunched over one of the trashcans in the hallway, retching loudly as his arms trembled slightly, threatening to bring him down from his own weight. He had expected the unpleasant smell of half-digested food, but what Lancer hadn’t expected was the warmth radiating off the teenager as he reached out to grasp his shoulder. Both him, and the 17-year-old gasped, and Lancer stumbled back slightly as Danny pushed him away, slumping against the wall as he slid to the floor.
Danny had landed with a small smack, and he groaned as he eyed his teacher before closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall. He mumbled something that sounded like a half-assed apology as Lancer inspected his character. Pale, sweaty features set in a flushed undertone as pink ate at his cheekbones. The English teacher ran another hand over his head as he glanced towards his classroom, then back towards his pupil, before turning and advancing towards the class.
After explaining that he felt like cutting detention short due to the storm clouds forming outside, Lancer had gathered his belongings, slinging Danny’s tattered backpack over his shoulder as he crossed through the halls towards the teenager still slumped against the wall, pitifully. He knelt down, reaching a hand out to rouse the 17-year-old, his fingers brushing against his hairline as he made an attempt to check his temperature before the kid jumped. He grasped Lancer’s wrist, pulling it from him harshly, his fingers tight enough around his arm that the older man could feel Danny’s fingernails digging into his flesh.
The teenager’s eyes were locked on his English teacher; the warm blue turning cold and hard as a menacing look crossed his face. Lancer had opened his mouth to speak but closed it a second later as Danny tightened his grip. He’d been surprised by the amount of strength the kid possessed seeing as he always seemed lanky, awkward, and weak. And the threat crossing the 17-year-old’s face sent chills down Lancer’s spine as Danny blinked, releasing his grip before apologizing quickly.
The older man stilled, his eyes glancing over his student as the kid refused to make eye-contact with him. Lancer sighed, offering the teenager a ride home, only to find out that his parents had been out of town for the past few days and weren’t due back until later that evening. And after a very awkward but short conversation with the Fenton’s and finding out their flight had been cancelled due to the oncoming weather, Lancer was driving a pissed off teenager to his own house until his parents returned. Thus, claiming an uncomfortable situation which neither Daniel nor Lancer liked much. But the older man wasn’t a monster… and if a night of letting Danny occupy his guestroom until he was convinced the 17-year-old was fine was what it took, then the English teacher would bare through it.
Lancer sighed again, letting his mind drift as he felt his body relaxing, sleep creeping towards him. Outside, the wind ate away at the chimes and shutters surrounding the house, lightening sparking against powerlines as the lights wavered in and out. Thunder roared overhead, creating a low rumble through the old house as the imminent threat of a tornado loomed in the horizon. But silence engulfed the English teacher as the thought of just resting for a few minutes evaded his tired mind…
It hadn’t been the flinch that woke Lancer, but the loud crash of things falling. Panic clouded his mind as the thought of a tree crashing through the front windows washed over him as he jumped up, cursing loudly. He glanced towards the windows quickly to find them intact and instead turned his attention in front of him as another sound hit him. Heaving.
“Lord of the Flies!” Lancer remarked as he turned his attention towards the sound. The coffee table had been overturned, laying on its side, its belongings littering the floor. And the rickety bookshelf the older man had been wary of earlier, had fallen slightly; its shelves no longer apart of it as the books wedged between non-existent space had crashed to the floor, surrounding Danny as he struggled to breath.
Lancer made his way around the overturned table, crouching down next to the kid as he gagged again, vomit coating his sweatshirt, puddling on the floor below as sweat trickled down his temple. The older man put a steady hand on the teenager’s shoulder, running his hand between his shoulder blades as the muscles in the 17-year-old’s back spasmed between heaves. Lancer let out a slow breath, his voice low and calm, “Alright. It’s alright, Daniel. You’re alright, just get it up. It’s alright…”
The teenager tensed, breathing through his nose lowly as he spit foul-tasting salvia from his mouth, and concentrated on settling his stomach. He felt disgusting, sweaty and embarrassed. He could feel vomit squished between his fingers, and the fact that he had just emptied the contents of his stomach on his English teacher’s floor, mortifying. But considering he had forgotten he wasn’t home, and in attempt to seek out the bathroom, tripped over the coffee table, not only taking it and its belongings down, but falling against the bookshelf, bringing a pile of books crashing to the floor with him, was more humiliating than the acidic puddle in front of him.
Danny closed his eyes briefly, breathing slowly as he leaned back on his knees, scrapping a hand against his mouth and chin. He turned his head towards his teacher but refused to make eye contact because he was afraid of the expression on the older man’s face. The 17-year-old groaned inwardly, setting a hand on his stomach as he let the short silence pass over them; the television cutting off then flicking back on a second later.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Lancer asked softly as he glanced around at the state of his living room. Surely, the shelves or books had fallen on top of the kid when he fell, and given the state of the coffee table, Lancer was betting the kid had tripped over it or something. The splintered shelves could have cut him, or his foot could have gotten caught on the ledge, and injury wasn’t something the older man really wanted to add to his list of problems right now.
Danny was quiet for a while, making brief eye contact with Lancer before looking back towards the floor. He swallowed loudly against the hiccups forcing themselves up his throat and hunched his posture further. He looked downright miserable which didn’t help Lancer’s current situation. The 17-year-old swallowed again before muttering quietly, “Sorry, I’ll help you clean up… I’m sorry about all the mess.”
Lancer sighed, relief washing over him as the kid finally spoke. He ran a hand over his head as he bowed his head, trying to get the teenager to look him in the face, “That doesn’t answer my question, Mr. Fenton. Are you hurt?”
Danny froze for a few seconds before meeting the teacher’s gaze slowly. He shook his head, his body twitching slightly as hiccups still resonated through his chest. Lancer nodded, glancing over the kid quickly, looking for any visible injuries but finding none, and ran his hands over his knees before standing, exhaling loudly.
The wind howled outside, and the branches on the tree outside knocked against the window forcefully as Lancer glanced towards the clock hanging on the wall. It was around 2am, which answered two questions: Was he to be expected at school tomorrow and was he going to get any sleep tonight. The 17-year-old coughed gently, and the older man turned his attention back towards the teenager.
“Well,” Lancer started carefully, “Let’s get things cleaned up.”
Danny cast his gaze back towards the floor as he moved to pick up one of the books next to him. Lancer crouched down again, pulling the book from the kid’s grasp, “What are you doing, Daniel?’
The teenager glanced up slowly, “You said to clean-”
Lancer shook his head, cutting the kid off, “The state of my living room doesn’t concern me right now, Mr. Fenton. You, however, do. Despite what you and your friends may think of me, I’m not heartless.”
Danny’s expression shifted as the older man grasped the kid’s arm, pulling him to his feet. He put a hand on the teenager’s shoulder as he swayed slightly, an eyebrow raised as a silent question flashed across the teacher’s face. The 17-year-old swallowed and gave Lancer a weak nod before crossing his arms over his stomach gently, stepping around the chaos as he followed Lancer into the hallway.
He shivered harshly as his ghost sense went off, and his eyes danced over the photos nailed against the ugly wallpaper in the hallway. Pictures of family- of times no one at Casper High knew of; a different side of the English teacher never shown. Danny lingered on the photo of a young boy with blonde hair, a huge gap-toothed smile swallowing his face as he held his ice cream cone towards the photographer. Confusion crossed the teenager’s face as he glanced over some of the other photos, the blonde kid present in almost all of them… and a pretty woman in a few others, posing next to the kid. As far as everyone knew, Lancer didn’t have kids, and he wasn’t married.
His ghost sense went off again, and Danny shivered as he paused momentarily, the photos around him blurring together, spinning into a colorful mess as dizzying fatigue washed over him, his limbs shaking as they fought to bring him down. He made a slight noise as he glanced towards the end of the hall, towards a small boy hiding behind a half-closed door; his green eyes huge and alarmed as he watched the teenager. Danny swallowed, Lancer’s questions floating over him as the boy peered further out the door, motioning for the 17-year-old to follow.
The teenager made an attempt to move, the hallway spinning as the pictures on the wall melted together in an array of sickening colors, and Danny blinked slowly as several spirits began to crowd around him, blood forced from gruesome wounds. A sharp noise escaped his mouth as he glanced back towards the boy, only to find the doorway empty, the door fully open now. Chills washed over him as his knees gave out, and his ghost sense sparked again.
Someone grasped at him, a hand gripping his arm while another snaked over his torse, pulling him back on his feet. Black filtered through Danny’s vision momentarily as his body went limp before he groaned, looking towards his left as Lancer adjusted his grip on his torso, asking something Danny couldn’t grasp. The teenager’s feet dragged against the wooden floor as he struggled to gain his footing, but his legs felt clumsy and foreign. He felt like shit, weird, split into two, leaning heavily against his teacher as the older man led him slowly down the hall, towards the room that’d been previously occupied by a scared little boy.
The 17-year-old hadn’t realized he’d been deposited on a bed until everything stopped moving. The room swaying slightly but no longer spinning in a multitude of nauseating colors. Heat pressed against his body as he glanced over the side of the bed towards the boy he’d seen earlier, hiding behind the rocking chair in the corner. His eyes fixed on the teenager as cold air pushed past Danny’s lips, and he shivered again, turning towards the ceiling fan as his shoes were slipped off his feet, followed by his socks.
He groaned as Lancer pulled his hoodie over his head gently, forcing his arms from the sleeves, leaving him shivering against the warmth dotting against his skin. He was freezing. His ghost sense going off every few minutes, causing his body to ice, goosebumps breaking out over his arms as warmth rushed through him a second later. He blinked slowly, feeling something press against his forehead, and he squinted towards Lancer leaning over him.
“We need to get that fever down, Daniel,” He whispered, running his hands through the kid’s messy black hair. Danny groaned, tuning out his teacher’s movements as he turned back towards the boy hiding behind the chair, hoping that this was as worse as his night got…
……………………………………………………
Heat. Heat blistered against tired flesh and limbs that refused to move… and warmth. Warmth pressed against bruised flesh gently, killing the heat sweating against him, weighing him down in thick blankets. Warmth poured over him, comforting him, drowning the confusion and panic etched in his veins, and Danny suddenly found himself calling to his childhood memories.
“M-mom?” He whispered, his voice barely audible as it scratched past his throat, rough and raw. He swallowed harshly, trying to force his eyes open but finding the task difficult. His body felt heavy, weak, tired… he felt like he had gone several rounds with Skulker… or someone worse.
“Shh, don’t talk, Daniel,” Someone said softly, and Danny blinked slowly, squinting against the dim lights swaying next to him. He shivered as shadows danced around him, and he groaned loudly as he tried pushing himself up. Strong warm hands pressed against his chest, keeping him in place as any strength the teenager had, left him momentarily.
Warmth threatened to pull him under again, and Danny swallowed, his head lolling to his right as he forced his eyes to stay open against flickering, dancing lights. Something pressed against his temple, his cheek, his neck, dampening the fire momentarily wherever the warmth touched, lingering against his skin just long enough to cool the sweat clammed against his body.
Danny coughed harshly as he opened his eyes sluggishly, unaware he had closed them, and he glanced around disoriented, his neck aching from the little effort he put into turning it. His vision wavered slightly, and the 17-year-old groaned as he made another feeble attempt to move only to be stilled by calm hands.
“Just relax, Daniel. Otherwise, I might be obliged to add to your weeks’ worth of detention,” Someone chuckled softly, and Danny forced his eyes open again, “Mr. L’ncer?”
The 17-year-old winced as his voice met his ears, weak and small; the syllables barely leaving his mouth as his tongue felt heavy against his teeth. He swallowed, his mouth feeling cottony and thick as his eyes lazily met his English teacher’s face hovering above him; a stern expression settled on tired features.
The teenager groaned loudly, closing his eyes briefly as the room began to spin, leaning his head back as he listened to the silence surrounding him. A quiet popping echoing around him, and Danny squinted, noticing several candles sitting on the counter and next to him, their flames flickering wildly. Confusion crossed his face as Lancer leaned further over him, “The power went out a while ago, so I had to improvise as I couldn’t find any batteries for the flashlight.”
The older man held up the flashlight, shaking it gently as confusion continued to sit on the 17-year-old’s face. He blinked slowly as he tried to piece together everything. But it was hot. And he felt weird, sick, his mind a muddled mess of exhaustion; his headache still pounding behind his eyes. He tried moving again, sitting up slightly before being pushed back down gently as Lancer sighed, “I swear, Mr. Fenton, do you ever listen?”
Danny swallowed, doing his best to understand his surroundings. He sighed loudly, letting his head fall behind him as he slowly connected the dots. He was in a bathroom. More importantly, he was lying in a warm bath, shivering against the heat beaded on his skin. And more embarrassingly, Lancer was soaking washcloths in the water, pressing them against his face, wiping down the sweat that was forming on Danny’s body. It took him longer than he liked to realize his shirt was gone, gentle fingers pressing lightly against his torso, covering every inch of heat that surrounded the bruised and scarred flesh. Whether or not he was wearing further clothing wasn’t something Danny tried to think about, and if he had the energy, he would have protested this level of comfort. This level of embarrassment. This level of weakness. But he felt too tired, too sick, and too hot to care.
Something moved in his peripheral, and Danny peered at the end of the tub to find the boy from earlier sitting on the edge, his gaze still watching the teenager. He bent down slightly, his blonde hair covering his face as he touched the water before jerking his hand back and shivering. Warmth hit him as Lancer washed over his chest, and the 17-year-old squinted, his eyes still watching the boy, refusing to let his exhaustion overpower him.
The boy disappeared momentarily before returning to his spot at the edge of the bathtub, a rubber duck in his hand. He set it in the water gently, pushing it in Danny’s direction before smiling widely, his two front teeth gapped, three missing from the bottom. The 17-year-old stirred, pressing against Lancer’s hands as his eyebrows furrowed together, and he yelled, “Hey!”
The boy jumped from the ledge, fear setting on his face as Danny struggled against his teacher’s grasp. His ghost sense went off, goosebumps breaking out over his naked skin as the boy disappeared, and the teenager let out a strangled cry as he shoved Lancer’s hands away, leaning over the edge, water splashing to the floor as he scanned the hallway for the boy. The 17-year-old gripped the slippery ledge of the tub as he scrambled to pull himself up, water slapping against the ground loudly.
Lancer gripped the kid’s shoulders, forcing him back down as alarm crossed his face. He held the teenager down as the candles flickered, water soaking into his khakis as the 17-year-old continued to thrash. The older man let out a quick breath as he tried grabbing the kid’s attention, “Daniel! Danny!”
The teenager stilled, his gaze moving from the hallway towards his teacher as his nickname left Lancer’s mouth. The older man sighed softly as he felt the kid’s body relax, his grip loosening on the bathtub as the teacher eased him back down. The alarm that crossed Danny’s face earlier, vanishing as confusion set in, his head smacking once again against the back of the bathtub as exhaustion ate away at his features.
He exhaled loudly as Lancer pressed a washcloth against his forehead, leaving it there for several minutes before repeating the action. Danny swallowed softly, closing his eyes against the dimly-lit room as his teacher cleared his throat, “I’m sorry about the circumstances, Daniel. But your temperature spiked again causing you to pass out, and I had no other way of bringing it down quicker. I know it’s uncomfortable. My son freaked too.”
Danny turned towards his teacher’s voice but kept his eyes closed as his mind spun violently. He furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to understand the information, as he tried to recall the pictures on the wall in the hallway. He coughed, sweat dripping from his hair plastered against his face, “The kid…”
“In the photos. Yeah,” Lancer sighed, wiping across the teenager’s chest again before pressing another rag against his forehead, “He passed some time ago… a car accident.”
The 17-year-old’s eyes opened slightly as he met his teacher’s sad smile before his focus lazily danced towards the hallway. The boy stood there, leaning against the doorway as he fumbled with the zipper on the bottom of his blue jacket, worry flashing across his face as he met Danny’s gaze. The teenager swallowed again, closing his eyes as he turned his head away from the door, sweat rolling down his cheeks as it dripped from his chin.
“Hey…” He muttered softly as he tried calling the boy closer, as he tried to connect the dots. He felt like shit. Even after being extremely sick after the Accident, he didn’t remember it feeling like this. Then again, that had been 3 years ago… and Danny hadn’t really been sick since. But maybe that had to do more with Phantom. Maybe he’d left… leaving the 17-year-old as a barely alive thing. Maybe this was his immune system dying, the other half giving out as it had struggled to survive with half function over the years. Maybe this was the portal killing the other part of him, claiming what it had started.
Danny’s teeth chattered loudly as he shivered against the warmth, “I shou-should call my parents…”
“I assure you they’re fine, Mr. Fenton,” Lancer said calmly, rewetting a washcloth and pressing it against the teenager’s neck, “They’re just concerned, trying to find a quicker way back to New York… unfortunately, the storm is making that difficult.”
The 17-year-old swallowed slowly, confusion washing over him before swallowing again. He coughed, his throat raw and his mouth dry like sandpaper, feeling his mind slipping, the reality he could understand becoming harder and harder to grasp. Everything was muddled, fuzzy, hard to comprehend.
“I- I should call them,” He muttered softly, “Apologize for killing myself… they’re going to be-be so- disappointed in me…”
Lancer froze, alarm flooding through him as he choked. He watched the confusion on Danny’s face melt, his features relaxing slightly as moments passed. The older man turned the teenager’s face towards him, shaking his shoulder gently as he let out a sharp breath, “What? Mr. Fenton- what! What does that mean? Daniel? Daniel- Danny!”
The kid whimpered but other than that, showed no sign that he had even heard Lancer’s questions. The English teacher took a few slow breaths, closing his eyes as he forced the panic back down. Perhaps he had misheard… or the 17-year-old’s temperature was getting to him. Hallucinations and muddled speech were common, so perhaps, that’s all it was. Thoughts of a delusional and feverish mind.
Then again, Danny’s attitude had shifted over the years as he still maintained his cocky and sarcastic demeanor… but darker things lurked over him. Lancer knew the kid smoked from time-to-time, and he had heard from a few rumors that Fenton had become no stranger to weed or alcohol. Then again, the aspect of rebellion was fairly common in teenagers, and Lancer couldn’t see the Fenton’s letting their son get away with anything too serious. But perhaps they didn’t know… perhaps they didn’t know about their son’s newer habits. Or the fights. The grades. The attitude problem. The bruises or scars. Perhaps Danny was hiding his true self from them just as he was from his peers.
But it wasn’t Lancer’s place. Not exactly. Sure, he cared for the kid, as he did for many of his pupils. But Jack and Maddie had become neighborly to him after the loss of his son, and the divorce. They expected Lancer to keep Jasmine and Daniel on the straight-and-narrow when they entered high school… which Jazz was no problem… but Danny. Danny was a different story.
Every direction Lancer took, the 17-year-old steered in the opposite direction. And it seemed even worse the last couple of months. Lancer knew something had happened between Fenton and Manson… and Danny seemed really broken up about it. After all, he had overheard Foley’s comment that the two had begun dating… among other things. And rumors were they’d been caught in the Janitor’s closet several weeks prior… But for the past few months, both Danny and Sam could barely sit next to each other, let alone look at each other. And most of the flirting Lancer had come to expect from the two, was replaced with cold stares, harsh short comments, and feeble excuses as to why they couldn’t work together.
Something sounded behind him, and the English teacher jerked, turning his head quickly towards the hall, squinting against the flame’s shadow dancing over the dark doorway. He scanned the empty area before closing his eyes briefly, breathing slowly through his nose, allowing his thoughts to calm as thunder roared overhead. Most nights Lancer could swear his house was haunted. Haunted by the memories of his past, the memories of his wife, his son… the life he missed every day. But that was ridiculous. An idealization deluded from the minds of Jack and Maddie Fenton… and nothing more.
The lights flicked several times as one of the lightbulbs above the bathroom counter popped, before burning out. The TV in the living room spluttering to life, news blasted through old speakers loudly before silence and darkness once again evaded the small house. Lancer sighed, running a hand over his head, listening to the rain pelt against the roof. Despite it being close to 10am, the storm hadn’t ceased… in fact, it seemed worse with every passing hour which was ironically befitting given Lancer’s current situation, and Danny’s condition.
The English teacher sighed loudly, wringing another washcloth out before pressing gently against the teenager’s forehead, cheeks, and neck as lightening cracked against the house. The 17-year-old whimpered softly, his eyebrows drawing together momentarily before Lancer shushed him, forcing another rag against his forehead lightly. Despite trying his best to bring the kid’s fever down, the older man was more than certain he was doing little to cause a significant change in the teenager’s temperature. Or at least it felt like that.
When the 17-year-old had passed out in the hallway, collapsing against Lancer the second he was pulled from the floor, going limp in his arms as the older man tried his best to hold Danny as gently as he could, Lancer had been at a loss. But when the lights spazzed, the shutter door slamming against the entryway and the power gave out, Lancer was close to both panicked tears and self-consumed anger.
He’d been angry over the situation. Over the power going out, the storm wreaking havoc outside and forcing flights to ground. Angry with his own useless attempts to soothe the teenager he thought he could care for. Angry he hadn’t taken Danny to the Emergency Room earlier and angry, that in spite of everything, the teenager seemed to be getting worse rather than better. Panic had eaten away worry and concern, leaving fear racing through thoughts riddled with questions; his own parental instincts, despite having died long ago, blaring as every sound, every cough, every whimper, and every unconscious groan that whispered from the 17-year-old’s mouth, sent Lancer’s senses on high alert.
Something that had scared Lancer more than he could account for was the fact that the 17-year-old was crying, hard, and his temperature. The moment he was near, the heat melting off Danny was deeply concerning, sweat plastered down pale flesh, dripping in puddles down his face and soaked through hand-me-down clothes Lancer had given him earlier. The teenager had been on the verge of hyperventilating when Lancer pressed his hand against his forehead, worry and panic lacing his tired mind as Danny cried harder, pleading with fevered hallucinations to leave and forgive him.
The thought of which was worse, the storm or Danny’s illness, no longer a debate but a firm decided answer that should have been sought long ago. But Lancer wasn’t sure if he would be able to find his keys in the dark, the rain pounding sideways against the windows as it threatened to break glass… and even though it was early morning now, the sun having rose two hours prior, it was still black as hell outside. Lancer’s own attempts to calm the teenager were futile. He was out of his element… so beyond his own familiarity, and he had forgotten how to soothe his own child. Lancer needed help, he needed another adult, and Danny needed a parent, but the older man hadn’t been a parent in a long time…
…………………………………………………………………………………….
He wasn’t a hero. Because a hero wouldn’t do this. A hero couldn’t. And Danny Fenton was no hero. He’d shed blood through Phantom hands, ghosted in hellish torment as he sat, throne to bodies and souls collected at his feet. Human hands forever red with mortal lives, halfa instincts more dead than alive as Fenton became a facade for Phantom. A mask. A plaything. A puppet of normality and bitter resentment as Phantom was forced to live in a barely alive flesh suit. And now, only now, was the teenager hit with the realization that he was no hero. He’d never been.
He’d been a boy. Stupid and ignorant in childish idealization, playing make-believe, costumed in his parent’s clothes, pretending to be something more. Something better. But he wasn’t. He was joke. A harsh cosmic occurrence of puny humanity and preemptive temperament of selfish actions. Cocooned in the tranquility of his youth as he tried to convince himself that he was more than the blood dripping from halfa hands, that he was the savior of death instead of the bringer. But he’d been stupid. Weak. Pathetic. Insignificant. A joke.
Danny Fenton was a joke of unlovable fear and horrible outcomes. Death followed him. Shadowed by terrible posture and cold features. Sam had fallen for the wrong boy. Had loved the wrong boy. Fenton wasn’t a hero. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t save her… fuck, he couldn’t save anyone. He was just a stupid kid with stupid luck. A false identity born to humanity, mirrored from the reality of Phantom, a messenger, a front for what had killed him years ago. Fake bravery. Fake chivalry. Everything fake.
Ectoplasm oozed down his temple, sliding past his left cheekbone, gathering at his chin as sweat and dirt fell past, splattering against ashen snow and green puddles of forgotten souls. Blood pooling from open wounds, forced between busted knuckles and broken fingers as red stained white. Danny choked, his fingers pressing tighter across Sam’s neck as blood gushed from wounds he couldn’t close… from a death he couldn’t stop. From a love he couldn’t lose.
The purple haloed around Sam no longer vibrant or visible through dark crimson, eaten away by the innocence of her youth, and the immorality dripping from Danny. He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t a good guy… and Phantom? Phantom couldn’t save her. Phantom couldn’t save anyone. Ever. But Phantom wouldn’t have done this… he couldn’t. Fenton had.
Fingers slipping from flesh, Sam’s necklace pulled from her neck as Danny fought for a better grip, forcing the broken bones in his right hand to bend, to curve, to keep blood from puddling around him… to fix this. But he couldn’t. There wasn’t a way to fix it. A way to fix death. To restore what was lost. What he had taken. What he had always taken. Over and over and over again.
And now, because he wasn’t willing to live without Phantom, Fenton had destroyed the one thing he loved more than anything. The one girl he loved more than anyone. The one girl willing to fight for him instead of Phantom. But that had been a mistake. Sam loving him had been a mistake. He and Sam had been a mistake. An intimate beautiful mistake.
Danny wasn’t the same person she’d fallen in love with. He wasn’t the same person he used to be. He was different. Darker. Quieter. Colder. He was awkward in his own shadow, uncomfortable in a foreign skin as he allowed Phantom more and more control. Danny Fenton was a waste. Danny Phantom wasn’t. He was the thing people needed. But Phantom wasn’t the one Sam had loved. He wasn’t the one she trusted. He wasn’t the one she tried so desperately to save… He wasn’t the one who had killed her.
The fight was over the second it’d begun. Box Ghost had slipped through the Ghost Zone, followed by Skulker and Johnny; the three musketeers of complete failure as they threatened to destroy the state of New York. But Danny had barely broken a sweat. Ghosts were easier now; less challenging than in his youth, repetitive and old, and most of the time, the teenager had bigger things to worry about. Like Spirits. The Veil. The Spirit World. And Vlad. There was always Vlad fucking Masters. A pain in the Fenton family ass… not that Jack would ever admit it.
Snow had started littering the ground in heavy flurries by the time Vlad appeared. Danny had sat on the park bench for hours, waiting for the stupid pointy-haired bastard to make an appearance; after all, Danny had gotten his message the night before when he was pulled into the Veil. He always got the message while in the Veil. He wasn’t welcome. He was never welcomed. And the Spirits collected within made sure he knew it, made sure he stayed long enough to understand the damage he had caused, the lives he had fucked, and the lives he had taken. Many in the Spirit World knew him, but he knew very little about them.
Despite knowing almost everything about the Ghost Zone, the teenager knew almost nothing about the Spirit World. About summoning. The Veil. The Spirits. He only knew how to tune them out, but the older he got, the more his power grew, the harder it was to keep them in check. Too many times had he been caught in public, or with his parents, or his sister, talking, ranting, yelling or even fighting Spirits that refused to leave. He couldn’t block them out. Their voices, cries in the dark, hands pulled through murky water towards his body as he dreamed, screams echoed through restless thoughts. They were getting harder to ignore… harder to kill.
Drugs didn’t really work anymore, barely a dull buzz of quiet whispers, and other outlets were laughable options. Weed made it hard to focus between Fenton and Phantom, his abilities harder to control… and the Spirits had barely left. Ecstasy was great, the screams a distant thought, the Spirits warping into smokes of green, yellow and red; but Phantom disappeared too, refusing to appear for several days after. And Acid… Acid just made the teenager more jittery, more paranoid, more on-edge than he already was.
Vlad had taught him a few tricks to keep the Spirits quiet enough to function before he died. He’d promised to teach Danny more, but his death made that almost impossible. Unlike the Ghost Zone, the Spirit World lacked a supernatural possession; rather turning anyone such as Vlad, normal and human- barely able to summon Danny through the Veil to talk. And Danny? Danny’s powers were pretty much useless inside the Veil, humanity coursed through fragile bones, muscle, and skin as blood beat through a half-alive thing. The teenager could barely summon, barely survive a night in the Veil, of being pulled through, forced out-of-body through airless lungs and the stillness of a barely beating heart.
In the Spirit World, the teenager was human. So very human. And so very vulnerable. A War progressed through the Veil, the Spirits capable of darker, more sinister realities than Ghosts such as Skulker or Freakshow could ever procure. A world of Death. True Death. The promises of the Ghost Zone vanquished through shreds of paper-thin souls of victims to the War. Death in the Spirit World meant no Ghost Zone after. No other World beyond. No connection or tie back to humanity. To the Human World. Nothing. Just black. Just…
The 17-year-old’s ghost sense had been going off for hours; his teeth chattering as he pulled the thin green jacket closer, cursing Vlad for taking his sweet time. To any untrained individual, the teenager appeared to be alone… but Danny was never alone. Not anymore. His shove through the Veil on his 16th had killed any isolation or solitude he had. They were always there. Always watching. Always with him.
The teenager grit his teeth as he smacked his head against the bench behind him, staring towards the grey sky as white dust fell in clumps, blanketing Amity Park… and most likely, the rest of New York. The weather had been unpredictable lately; a chaotic shitshow of indescribable patterns, something his father chalked up to some weird readings in the Ghost Zone. Despite never really seeing a ghost, his parents still obsessed over them, inching closer and closer to diving into the portal with each passing week. But Danny, Danny wished he’d never have to see another fucking ghost in his life.
More and more of the transparent bastards had been slipping through the portal lately. Part of that was Danny’s fault. The other, unknown. Valerie had helped pick up the slack, along with the Fenton Duo, but the teenager had more important things to worry about like Spirits. The harder they were to ignore, the more of them appeared… and they could touch him. Hurt him. Kill him… the scars plastered against his right ribs should be evident enough to speak to their danger. He’d barely survived his first trip through the Veil, and Vlad kept pulling him fucking through… mainly because summoning wasn’t something the 17-year-old had mastered yet. And with Vlad dead, Danny doubted if he’d ever actually be able to master summoning… leaving no hope for resurrection.
Something kicked against the teenager’s red converse, and Danny shot up quickly, expecting Vlad to be standing over him. A smile crawled across his face as his eyes met Sam, her black hoodie blowing viciously against the winter air, small specks of white clinging to the fabric. She kicked his foot again, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear, “Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” Danny smirked, forcing his hands in his pocket, his right hand clamped around the red lighter he had stolen from his dad’s secret stash. Whether or not Jack Fenton had noticed a few of his smokes were missing, the teenager would never know. After all, if his father ended up confronting him about it, then that meant Jack would also have to come clean to Maddie about smoking… something he supposedly gave up a few years after Danny was born.
Sam slumped down next to him, her shoulder hitting his as Danny turned towards her, smiling. Sam rolled her eyes, her purple lipstick twisting into a grin as she leaned her head against his shoulder. She sighed, “So, I take it Vlad hasn’t shown?”
The 17-year-old shook his head, before clearing his throat, “No.”
“That’s pretty unusual for him, isn’t it?” She asked, pulling her head up as wind forced her hood down, short black hair flying chaotically. She glanced in Danny’s direction as he flicked some snow off his jeans. He hadn’t really thought about Vald’s behavior- about his pretty punctual habits, but now that it was mentioned, it was rather worrisome the older man hadn’t shown yet. Especially given he seemed rather paranoid the night before. But surely, the older man would have said if he was in danger.
Danny shrugged his shoulders, meeting Sam’s gaze, biting his bottom lip. Pieces of ice clung to her hair, freckled across her face, and the 17-year-old hesitated, before brushing his thumb across her cheek carefully, wiping away some of the fallen snow. He paused, his fingers pressing gently against her jawline, following the curve softly before Sam pressed her hand over his. Danny froze, warmth flooding his face as he refused to advert his gaze.
Sam had been weird lately. She’d been acting weird… almost feminine… which was weird for both Tucker and Danny as they had always seen her as one of the guys. But between a few awkward non-date dates, a few fake-out make-outs, and being caught half-naked in the Janitor’s Closet a few weeks prior when Danny had phased through the wrong room after a fight; Danny was finding it harder to act normal around her. And then there was the Annual Winter Dance last month which neither Sam nor Danny refused to acknowledge, involving some sloppy drinking, heated kissing, and one awkward morning after at the Fenton household as Danny tried sneaking Sam from his room only to be caught by his sister.
Since then, Sam had become more… Well, it was hard to explain because Danny was pretty sure he’d become more of it too. Every moment he was around her, it seemed like he had reverted back to his weird, awkward, clumsy demeanor. He couldn’t talk around her anymore, let alone act normal anymore. His ghost sense unpredictable, his powers uncontrollable as his body forgot how to be him around her. He couldn’t eat or sleep and paying what little attention he normally did in class, unbearable. He couldn’t get Sam out of his head. Her purple lipstick. Her laugh. Her hands clasped around his. Her mouth… Her. And it was driving him insane.
Mentioning it to anyone was out of the question. Tucker had them married in 9th grade. His parents were too hyperactive and weird to be able to deal with their only son dating- let alone his sister’s recollection of her very awkward first date that involved more of Jack Fenton than Danny wanted to picture. And Jazz? Jazz had freaked when she had caught Danny and Sam together the morning after the Annual Winter Dance, forcing both teenagers to attend a lecture involving responsible actions, so asking Jazz for advice was out of the question. Honestly, Danny had found some console in Vlad, but that bastard’s advice was wishy-washy and outdated.
Sam’s fingers brushed over the rough scars on his hand before she trailed up his arm. Her hand hesitating on his shoulder before cupping the back of his neck, her fingers tussling his hair softly. The wind whooshed past, snow raining over them as Sam met the 17-year-old’s gaze, a small smirk painted across purple lips. Danny shivered slightly, brushing his thumb over her cheek again, “I-”
“Shut up,” Sam cut him off, pulling herself from the bench as she pressed her lips against his, pushing the 17-year-old back slowly as he dropped his hand from her cheek, trailing down her shoulder slowly, arm, back. He inhaled loudly, a hand pressed against the small of Sam’s back, the other pressing her closer to him as she kissed him again, one of her hand’s slipping underneath his shirt. Cold fingers pressed against the warmth on his back. Black nails scrapping gently over scarred flesh, fingers through black hair, and Danny’s hands dragging her closer. Sam was driving him insane… but maybe this time, they could acknowledge it… maybe this time, he could tell her how he really felt.
Maybe this time he could tell her he couldn’t get her out of his mind. That he couldn’t concentrate around her, he couldn’t get that night at the dance out of his mind… that she made everything better, made everything okay. He needed her like he needed air. She was a reminder that he was still alive, that he was still human, that he was still more than Phantom. Because she seemed to want him more than Phantom… She liked him. Not Phantom. And that- that was all Danny ever wanted from someone. From her…
Her nails scrapped harder against his back as Sam straddled him; her hair flying in the wind, covering her face, smacking against Danny’s face comfortingly. His hands gentle as they trailed down the rest of her back, her thighs, holding her steady against him. Her lips forceful against his, nails marked against skin, her heart pounding against his. She breathed deeply, “Danny…”
“Well, isn’t this nice,” Someone sneered. Danny pushed Sam off him gently, jumping to his feet as he pressed Sam behind him, his stance protective as he met the stranger’s gaze. The 17-year-old watched as a woman stepped forward, a smirk on her face as she pushed some of her long blonde hair behind her ear. She eyed the 17-year-old, sizing him up as she walked around the small bench. She scoffed, “They said the halfa was young, but I never would have thought this young… Tell me, handsome, do you even know how to tie your own shoes?”
Danny tensed, “Do you want to find out?”
The woman laughed loudly, circling them once more before standing a few feet from him, “Oh, and that wit. I bet you’re a troublemaker, uh?”
She crossed her arms, straightening her posture until she was eyelevel with him. Her skin almost translucent against the white ground, blood dotting against her neck where a necklace should have been. Her bright pink and blue jumpsuit standing out against the snow, fitting the ideal clothing for an 80’s teenager… her blonde hair in half-buns, purple triangle earrings dangling from her ears. She laughed again, shaking her head, her red lipstick twisting slightly as she peered towards Sam.
Sam had risen from the bench, pulling her hoody back over head as her hair still fought against the wind. She forced the sleeves past her hands, her fingers intertwining gently with Danny’s as the 17-year-old stepped forward, “Where’s Vlad?”
The woman cocked her head, her smile offsetting as she held up her hand, inspecting her chipped blue fingernails, “I wouldn’t worry about Grandpa anymore. He’s been taken care of.”
The teenager swallowed, dropping his hand from Sam’s as he took another step forward, his hands burning slightly as Phantom threatened to appear. Danny swallowed, “What did you do to him?”
The woman laughed again, shoving her hands on her hips as she faced the 17-year-old again, “You’ve become quite the gossip in the Veil. Did you know that? Everyone talks about the halfa; the teenage boy with a hitlist bigger than… well… for decency, think of someone historically bad. The merciless angel. The bringer of death. The red. You could say you’ve become very popular amongst Spirits… and to hear, the little ghost boy could be harmed,” She paused, clasping her hands together as a smile painted her face, “Well, that was like Christmas morning.”
Sam reached for Danny’s shoulder, her fingers gracing over the fabric of his hoodie as he stepped forward again, “What did you do with Vlad?”
The woman smirked, “Me? No, honey, I’ve done nothing. See, I don’t really care for the creepy-uncle-lotion-in-the-basket types. You, however, are much more interesting. Much more powerful than Vlad would be… I can feel it. Radiating off you like the wind around you. It’s beautiful… And we can hurt you. We can touch you. Something those pathetic airbags in the Ghost Zone could only dream of. And believe me, pretty boy, there are many in the Veil eager to show you their real power. Eager to walk this Earth again… all we need is the blood of the halfa.”
“Fuck you!” Sam yelled, stepping in front of the 17-year-old, her finger’s gripping Danny’s wrist. Sam took a step forward, her stance tense, her hood down as wind washed over her. Snow beading in black hair, melting down her face as hatred flashed across her features. Her grip tightened around the teenager’s wrist, protectively; and Danny swallowed softly as he realized she wasn’t about to let go.
The woman stepped forward slowly, smirking again as she chuckled, “Call off your guard-dog, Daniel. I have no intention of killing you today… besides, in order for us to be reborn, you have to come to us willingly. Which I give you… a year before you enter the Veil for the last time.”
Danny scoffed, “Unlikely.”
He shivered as he met the woman’s gaze, her smile hiding something that scared the teenager more than the threat. An understanding… knowing. She knew what went through his mind. What he thought about, how he thought about himself… The way she looked at him, the way she smirked towards him, sneering… she knew. About the drugs. The blood. About the recklessness. She knew what stimmed through a tired mind in the nightmarish reality of Fenton from Phantom. She had to know… but the only way she would, would be- Vlad.
Danny glanced down for a second, swallowing loudly. Him and Vlad had had their differences, but they seemed to work it out over the years… so would Vlad really tell people about him? Would he really betray his secrets to other people, well, Spirits? The teenager had confided in him over the years. Not about everything… but about himself, about how he had come to hate Phantom. How he had become forced to live with Phantom’s pain and torment. How he felt, as the years past, and he let Phantom have more power, he could feel reality crumpling around him. Crumpling in, and slipping through his fingers, through the cracks created by Phantom, opened and birthed through the Ghost Zone and Spirit World. How it felt like he was being drained… that his humanity was dying. Would Vlad really betray him like that? After all this time?
The woman scoffed again, “Perhaps. But I’m willing to help you out… give you another nudge in the right direction.”
Confusion crossed the 17-year-old’s face as he stepped forward again, only a few feet from the woman as she crossed her arms, raising her head. She shook her head slowly, “I can see you’re confused, so I’ll make it simple for your stupid hormonal teenage brain.”
There was a flash, and Danny dropped harshly, his hands and arms burning as he felt the shift starting to take over. Phantom gaining control as the Fenton canister, forgotten on the park bench, exploded loudly, and the teenager pressed his burning hands against the snow. Cold braced against his fingers as he looked up, wiping away some green ectoplasm that litter across his body, blood dripping down his chin slowly from a cut on his upper lip. His eyes flashed green as he let Phantom gain control, his body burning slightly as he shifted, the aching pain that plagued him, gone as Phantom took over.
Within a second, he had the woman pinned against the tree, a smirk twisting against his lips as she struggled pathetically. He huffed, his tone cocky as he tightened his grip, “You missed.”
The woman hesitated before laughing loudly, snapping her fingers as Phantom reverted back, forcing Fenton through translucent skin as he was shoved back into his teenage body. Sweaty fatigue washed over him as she kicked his leg, slamming him against the ground harshly, pinning him against the snow. The 17-year-old squirmed, trying to coax Phantom out, trying to shift but finding the task difficult, his fingers tingling and sparking green but refusing to change.
The woman snorted, grasping his hand in hers, smiling down at him as her blonde hair brushed over his chest. She pressed her fingers between his, humming softly before jerking her hand back, bending Danny’s fingers as she clawed at his palm, bones cracking, causing the teenager to scream loudly as he fought against her. After a few seconds, she let go as wind rushed past them, and she pressed her chest against his, stroking his hair back gently. She bent down further, her lips brushing against his ear, “I wasn’t aiming for you, honey.”
The 17-year-old twisted; his head jerked towards Sam as he tried forcing the woman from him. Blood splattered against the snow as Sam fell, her face pressing against the ice, her hand, bloodied and shaky, as she reached in Danny’s direction. The teenager cried loudly as Sam’s hand dropped in the snow, her body going limp as red bled through white. The woman pressed her fingers against the 17-year-old’s cheek as he screamed again; his hands and arms burning as heat clawed through his chest. Sam opened her mouth, purple lips parted but no words came, only tears trailing down pale flesh before green eyes shut.
The woman laughed softly, digging her nails painfully into Danny’s cheek and chin, prying his eyes away from Sam and towards her. Rage ate away at his features, his skin scorching against Phantom as green began to steam off him, his eyes flashing bright green before darkening as his eyes met hers. The woman tightened her grip as green smoke continued to envelope them; a smirk plastered to skin pulled back too tightly as she pressed her clammy forehead against his, gently. She took a deep breath as Danny struggled against her, his skin itching as black ectoplasm began to drip from his nose and ears, running down his face before smacking against the ground. Cold soaking through his clothes as his skin began to burn away, green fading to black, and black sparks radiating from his fingertips as the woman pressed her lips against his.
The teenager jerked away, his gaze meeting Sam’s stilled face. Her features silent, and Danny choked again as he yelled her name, fighting against the woman’s grasp again. Her nails dug once more into his flesh, pulling his face back towards her as black tears fell down his cheeks in thick trails. She thumbed some away slowly before licking the liquid from her thumb and smirking, pressing her chest once again against his.
“Such power. Such a waste,” She bent down further, her lips pressing against his temple, “Two down… See you in a year, lover.”
Pain seared across his chest, and the 17-year-old screamed as her hand pressed over his heart, burning against flesh as the greenish black swallowing him, ceased. His eyes flashed back to blue as he choked, grasping towards her hand before realizing she was gone. His hand pressing over the bloody handprint stained against his shirt as the pain slowly began to evade, and he twisted around, stumbling to his feet as he forced himself towards Sam….
#in the mood to watch danny phantom#danny phantom#fandom life#i need some fanfiction in my life right now#sick Danny#I was told to stop writing this and create a book out of this lol#posted on archive#lancer taking care of Danny#kb
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Face to Face - Chapter 38
Summary: When Danny went through the ghost catcher, he expected to be cured of the ghostliness that had haunted him since the accident, not to wake up on the lab floor with his parents saying he’d been overshadowed but everything’s back to normal now. But why does Danny Fenton cry himself to sleep to then dream of flying? Why does Phantom, the ghost who was supposedly possessing Danny remember a life that wasn’t his? Most of all, why do both the human and the ghost feel that something vital is missing, in their very soul?
Or: Trying to cure himself of his powers one month after the accident, Danny accidentally splits himself but neither his ghost nor his human half know that that is what they did
First -> Last -> Next
Word Count: 6,400
Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net
The rest of the night was almost blissfully normal. Or rather...what was quickly becoming the new normal. The family talked and planned for an upcoming trip to the Ghost Zone. They discussed how to train the Dannys’ ghost powers and ideas for inventions to peaceably study and maybe even help ghosts. During the conversation, the humans finished eating and finally put away the leftovers. And then they went back to talking.
This went on for several hours. And…. for the first time in days, Phantom was...happy. It was something of a surprise but...having things out in the open was good. And Mom and Dad’s reaction to what he’d seen in the Infinite Realms and learned from Sidney… they had listened to him. They had believed him. They were excited and… it made the ghost feel hopeful.
The corner of ghost Danny’s mouth turned up in a smile. He turned to look at Jazz as she stood yawning. “It’s already almost 11. We should start getting ready for bed, Danny.”
Fenton glanced at the clock. “Oh you’re right.” He rubbed his eyes, as if suddenly feeling tired.
And… Phantom’s smile fell, a familiar heaviness falling over his core at the knowledge of another sleepless night.
Both boys stood and started following Jazz up to their rooms. They got to the middle of the living room and-
“Danny.” Mom called evenly. Both boys turned at their name and the woman’s eyes flickered between the two before falling on the ghost. “Phantom.” She said with a surprising lack of hesitance. “Can you hang back for a minute? Fenton, you can go up to bed.”
Suddenly, the ghost boy felt his stomach flop. He looked to Fenton, half hoping he’d insist on waiting as well but… the human gave him a comforting pat on the back. “Go ahead.” He lowered his voice to whisper. “You’ll be okay.”
Phantom nodded, accepting the comfort. He took a breath to steel himself. Despite the few words, he knew what his human half really meant. There was nothing to be nervous about; nothing in the words or tone said he was in trouble or that Mom was angry. It was ridiculous to think things could already go down hill again.
“Yeah.” The ghost boy finally spoke. He turned to his sister. “Good night Jazz. Night Fenton.”
His counterpart smiled. “Goodnight.” His eyes flickered from Mom who was still at the table to Dad who was at the sink. “Night, Mom. Night, Dad.”
Jazz gave the same ‘good nights’ which both parents returned. Then the human teens went up the stairs.
Phantom floated to the chair beside Mom. “So…”
The woman met his eyes, wearing a slightly sad expression. “Your dad told me about how you haven’t been sleeping.”
The ghost’s shoulder rose. “Because...uhh… I don’t have to.”
“I know.” She put a hand on his arm. “I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.” Concern shone in her eyes. “What have you been doing, when you’re up all night?”
The boy shrugged. “Watching TV. Listening to Music. Reading. Drawing. Just...trying to keep myself busy, I guess.”
Mom nodded. Then she asked sincerely. “Do you need anything? Or want anything? Is there anything we can do to help?”
Phantom bit his lip. For just a moment, he debated. I want to go flying, he wanted to say. He wanted to go out and see the town, his town, quiet and still and asleep. He wanted to fly high enough to see the stars above the clouds but… no, he can’t say that. He couldn’t ask for that.
The ghost shook his head. “No. I’m...I’m good.”
The woman raised a brow, frowning. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m...fine.” Phantom glanced away, uncomfortable with the piercing gaze. (Or was it the new concern that was bothering him?) His eyes flickered to the other adult who was still trying to work on the dishes, despite looking just as concerned as Mom. The ghost looked back, taking a breath. “Actually...can I...uhhh… go to the top of the Ops Center and stargaze?”
Mom’s frown deepened. “By yourself? Sweetie, that’s dangerous. You could fall off.”
Phantom gave her a skeptical look. “I mean… I guess I could fall off.” He glanced down at his luminous, floating body. “But…If I did, I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”
The woman followed his eyes and...she blushed, a look of realization passing over her face. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Of course, you’re right.” She sighed. “I’ll allow it. You have my permission if...your father’s okay with it too.”
The man turned to face the two at the table, smiling. “It’s alright with me, Danny-boy.”
“Really?” Ghost Danny asked, tentatively, hopefully. Both adults nodded and he smiled softly. “Thank you. I’ll be fine, I promise.”
“I know.” Mom said with a surprising amount of trust. She leaned forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning. I love you, Danny.”
The boy blushed, but he didn’t move, accepting the affection. “I love you too.”
The woman stood, starting towards the stairs and Phantom floated off his seat to follow but the sound of Dad approaching stopped him. The man’s large hand appeared on his shoulder. “You know that you can wake me or your mother up if you need us, right?”
Ghost Danny looked up at him, slightly surprised by the statement. “Yeah, I know.”
“Good.” The man pulled the boy towards him, into a side hug. “Have a good night, son. Enjoy your stargazing.”
Phantom accepted the hug, returning it with one arm. “I will.”
Dad gave another nod and also started towards the steps. For a long moment, Phantom just floated there, thinking. Mom and Dad were...being a little overly affectionate. But after everything that happened...a warm feeling spread in his core. He didn’t feel like complaining. It was another reason to hope that things would get better.
Without a thought, Phantom floated off the chair. He should go upstairs to his room, to get their phone, a book, and his sketch pad before Fenton fell asleep. The ghost’s eyes flickered to the stairs. Then he looked up at the ceiling. And…. he bit his lip, debating. His bedroom actually was the room right above the kitchen. Almost on impulse, the ghost flew up. Turning intangible, he phased through the ceiling and-
Ghost Danny paused, eyes widening as he realized the sight in front of him.
“Good night, sweetie. I love you.”
Fenton was standing in his pajamas, back to Phantom. Mom stood in front of the human, a tender and loving look on her face as she kissed his cheek.
“I love you, too.” The boy replied, sincerely. “Good Night, Mom.”
The ghost boy watched, his still intangible head just poking through the floor. A complicated feeling swirled in his core. It was odd, almost eerie to see this exchange, so similar to the good night he’d just shared with Mom. There was a sense of...wrongness; that should have been him, really him getting ready to go to sleep. There shouldn’t have been two ‘good night’ exchanges. But at the same time… Phantom’s face softened. Mom said good night to both halves of him and the tenderness, the affection in the act...it was the same whether he was a ghost or a human.
A small gasp drew Phantom out of the thought. His eyes flickered up and….
He blushed. “Sorry.”
Mom had spotted him and now wore a surprised expression. The ghost boy effortlessly flew up through the floor and became solid. At the same time, Fenton turned around.
The adult shook her head, as if to banish the started look. “No. Don’t apologize.” She pinned him with an earnest look.
Phantom couldn’t help but blush again, remembering the conversation earlier that afternoon. These were his powers. He didn’t need to apologize for using them in his own house.
His human counterpart gave him a concerned look. “You good?”
“Yeah.” The ghost nodded. “Was just going to get some stuff and go stargaze on the roof.” His eyes went to the adult in the room. “Mom said it was okay.”
Fenton looked to her, eyes wide and hopeful. “Really?!”
“Yes.” Mom answered. “But this you needs to sleep.” She half-smiled, patting his shoulder.
The human boy frowned, crossing his arms. He appeared to be pouting but Phantom knew it was partly an act. Then Fenton yawned. He wrinkled his nose, muttering. “Stupid human body.”
The woman’s expression was hard to read, maybe uncomfortable, maybe concerned, maybe amused. Either way, she didn’t reply.
Phantom flew to beside his other self, gently knocking into his shoulder. “Dude. I’d happily trade but IDK how the heck to do that. Also,” The look Phantom gave was part skeptical, part playful. “I know for a fact halfa us still has to sleep.”
The human boy grumbled something unintelligible, bumping into his ghost in response. Phantom knocked back and…
Mom laughed. She actually laughed.
Phantom froze looking at her like a deer in headlights.
The woman rolled her eyes, good naturedly. “Bed, you.”
Fenton conceded. “Still have to brush my teeth.”
“Alright.” Mom started out the door, giving both a fond look. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”
Fenton walked down the hall, towards the bathroom. Phantom poked his head out the doorway, watching as Mom walked the other direction, knocked on Jazz’s door, and entered a few seconds later, presumably to tell her daughter good night.
Fenton returned soon after and turned off the lights. He flopped onto the bed and rolled over to face the glowing ghost. “Dude. Stargazing. Is it weird I’m a little jealous?”
Phantom shrugged. “The feeling’s mutual. I’d love to be able to sleep. Besides, you’ll probably end up dreaming about it anyway so...two for one, I guess.”
“I guess. ‘Night.” The human pulled the covers over him.
“Night.” The ghost phased up through the ceiling. He offered a smile as his other self closed his eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
True to what Phantom said, Fenton did dream about stargazing. The surrounding city was surprisingly bright, with the street lights and still lit shops. But with ghostly night vision, the stars were more vibrant than ever. Human Danny marveled for a long moment before drifting away, into a strange dream about islands of ice cream and an amusement park. He returned, back to the star filled sky, this time with a far away, eerie yet beautiful song playing in his ears. It really was… incredible. Then...blackness.
Fenton blinked awake to soft sunlight on his face. His dreams...he remembered. And...the boy’s brow wrinkled. It was strange; when he was asleep, he hadn’t realized that he’d been seeing what Phantom was. But now...it was so obvious. Still he wondered...what if he did realize it, while he was asleep?. He always saw Phantom’s actions, just passively watching. But what if he tried to direct their actions?
The human boy shook his head, dislodging the thought. It didn’t really matter right now. Besides, he had to get ready for school.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After the whirlwind that was getting ready, and a surprisingly normal and peaceful breakfast, Fenton found himself walking into school. Phantom was of course at home. And Mom and Dad had said they’d start working on the Ghost Catcher again today, as well as on the ectofood problem and start setting aside a portion of the lab for powers training. But for now… the human Danny took a breath. Now, he needed to focus on school.
Fenton walked around a corner and there were Sam and Tucker, both getting things out of their lockers near his.
The boy waved. “Hey guys.”
Both of his friends turned. “Hi Danny.” “Hey.”
Human Danny’s heart warmed. They both looked and sounded happy and relieved to see him. He approached his locker and started turning the combination to open it.
Sam, who’d apparently finished grabbing her things, leaned against the locker. “So how did things go with your parents yesterday?”
So right to business, it seemed. Fenton sighed. “Pretty good. Mom apologized.”
“She did?” Tucker asked, concern plain on his face.
“Yeah. She...uhh…” His voice lowered, not wanting to be overheard. “She went through the portal after Phantom. She was....she was really upset and scared, guys.” He still felt a little guilty about running off. “But ghost me found her and brought her back home. And we talked about everything and…” He trailed off, a lump in his throat.
“And?” Sam asked.
Fenton was silent for a long pause, eyes flickering down.
“Dude, you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to but-” Tucker started.
“No. I do. It’s just….there was a lot.” A lot of tears and anger. Fenton had thought he wasn’t all that upset about it anymore but it still hurt. Of course, it still hurt. But at the same time….he remembered Mom kissing his goodnight last night and laughing and him and Phantom joking around with each other. The boy swallowed. “She...she said she would do better.”
His friends both still looked worried. “Do you think she will?” Tucker asked.
This was sounding very much like his conversation with Jazz last night. He gave the same answer as Phantom did then, feeling his throat constrict with emotion. “I think she wants to. If she tries, I will too but….there’s a lot.”
Fenton didn’t say very much for a while, looking down at his shoes. And neither of the other teens pressed either until…
“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam questioned.
Human Danny looked up slowly, his eyes starting to mist over. “Can we… can we go talk about this somewhere else?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The three huddled behind the staircase on the first floor and Fenton talked. And the longer he talked, the more his eyes watered until he was actually crying. He sank down to the floor and Sam and Tucker sat beside him, hugging him from either side.
The conversation was much like the one he’d had with Jazz, the same pains resurfacing, the same tentative acceptance. And it still hurt. He was still hurt. Last night had been really good and the conversation with Mom and Dad, the apologies had gone surprisingly well but there was still that fear. What if things went downhill again?
“We’ll be here no matter what.” Tucker promised.
“And I get it.” Sam comforted. “It’s okay to still be scared. Just take your time, alright?”
Fenton nodded. “I will. Jazz...already talked about that. And...thanks guys.” The bell rang. “Shoot.” The boy grumbled. “We’ve got class in five minutes.” And he probably looked like shit from crying.
“Here.” Sam pulled a sleeve of tissues out of her bag. “Wiped your face.”
The boy quickly did. “Thanks Sam.”
“Come on.” Tucker stood and helped pull Fenton to his feet.
Human Danny started following his friends. “Oh. I didn’t tell you guys about what happened with Sidney.”
“At lunch?” Sam asked.
A nod. “Yeah.” Fenton tugged his bag up higher on his back as they passed a corner. His heart skipped a beat. Shit. There was Dash. He quickly looked down, avoiding even the suggestions of eye contact.
The jock noticed anyway. “Wow, Fenturd. You look like shit.” He shoved the human into the locker. “Did you and your little girlfriend have a fight?”
“Leave him alone.” Sam sneered “You don’t get to talk. Your outside and your inside both look like shit.”
Dash’s face reddened with anger. “What did you just say to me?”
“Oh just shut up.” The goth balled her fists, looking prepared to deliver a swift kick with her combat boots.
“No. What did you-”
Paulina cut the footballer off. “Come on Dash. Leave the goth freak and her loser boyfriend alone before she puts a witchy spell on you.” The cheerleader put up her nose, dragging the still glaring teen away.
Fenton breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks Sam.”
The girl scowled. “You shouldn’t have to deal with his shit.”
“Yeah. That’d be nice.” The human boy wrinkled his nose. For just a moment, he remembered similar bullies, the shadows in Sidney’s lair. It really was sad, that all those years ago, there was another teen dealing with the same thing. More than fifty years later and things hadn’t changed in that regard. With a shake of his head, Fenton pushed the thought away. “Come on. We need to go.”
The trio made it to class. And the school day was normal, strangely normal after the emotional upheaval of the past day. That was… until lunch.
“Dude… ghost food?” Tucker asked, mouth falling open.
“Yep.” Fenton nodded. He’d just started telling his friends about what he’d learned from Sidney.
Then there was a sharp tug on his mind and he wasn’t in the cafeteria anymore. He was in the lab, his gloved green-lit hands in front of him. And… his heart skipped a beat. There, across the space was his mom with an ectogun, the same one she’d shot him with, pointed towards him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just minutes earlier at home, Phantom was sitting on the couch, watching TV.
“Danny boy! Come down here!” His dad’s voice called. “I’ve gotta show you something.”
The boy sighed, floating to his feet. “Coming!”
It was kinda weird, the ghost realized as he approached the door with only slightly wary interest. Before the portal, he would have rolled his eyes, dismissing his father’s excitement or he would have found an excuse to avoid the ensuing ramble about ghosts. How things had changed, now that he intimately knew that ghosts are real.
Phantom knocked on the door of the lab before opening it. He drifted down the stairs. “Yeah, Dad? What’s up?” He asked once he was in front of the man’s bench top.
Dad looked up, grinning. “Take a look at this.” He held a plastic cup filled with something green and gelatinous. Was that…
The ghost boy wrinkled his nose. “What is that?” He thought he already knew that answer but hoped, maybe…
The adult was still smiling. “Ectoplasm! Purified ectoplasm straight from the portal. Just concentrated it this morning!”
Phantom raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“This right here! The solution to your food problem!”
“Food problem?” The ghost blanched, realizing. “Wait. I’m… I’m supposed to drink that?”
Dad’s expression fell slightly. “I know it doesn’t look that tasty. But… come on. Give it a try!”
Phantom blinked, taking in the man’s excited face for a moment. Then he reached out to take the cup. “Alright.”
“Here you go!” Dad handed the ectoplasm over.
Ghost Danny held the cup in front of him. His nose wrinkled and he hesitated.
Noticing the pause, the adult encouraged. “Just imagine it’s lime jello. It sure looks like it, doesn’t it?”
Frown deepening, Phantom gently shook the glass. He watched the contents jiggle. “Actually… yeah, it does.” His expression relaxed some as he was surprisingly comforted by the observation. With that green color and the consistency… Maybe it would taste like jello? He raised the cup, as if to toast. “Well...here goes.”
The ghost boy tipped the glass back and took a large swallow into his mouth. His nose wrinkled. Well...the texture was soft and jiggly, not quite liquid, not quite solid. Like jello but… He swallowed. “It tastes like dirt.” He struck his tongue out, really wanting something to wash the taste away.
Brief disappointment flashed across the man’s face. Then his eyes brightened, seeming to realize something. “But you can taste it.” Dad pointed out.
Phantom frowned down at the cup again. “Yeah. I guess I can but…” He handed the ectoplasm back. “It’s not something I’d wanna eat, Dad.”
The man looked sad again. “Well...it’s a start.”
“Yeah.” Phantom gave him an encouraging tap on the shoulder.
Then Mom called from across the room. “I have an idea, sweetie.” The ghost turned, just as she stood from the table where she was working with her own ectoplasm samples. “I’ll be right back.”
Ghost Danny raised a brow but didn’t ask as his mom jogged up the stairs and disappeared into the kitchen. The boy’s ears twitched at a noise. His brow furrowed, wondering.
“I wonder what she’s up to.” Dad mused.
“She’s...microwaving something?” Phantom said, confused.
“How do you figure that?”
The ghost turned at the man’s slightly mystified question. “I can hear it.” Dad just looked more confused and Phantom blushed. Oh right… “My hearing’s enhanced.”
The man blinked. Then… “Really?!” His eyes lit up.
“Yeah.” A nod. “It’s a lot better than it used to be. And uh...my eyesight too, ‘specially at night.” He slowly smiled. “The stars here look as clear as they do at Aunt Alicia’s.”
Dad looked even more excited. “Danno! That’s amazing.”
“Oh yeah. I can see so many stars.” He held up hands up, as if motioning to the sky. “I can see the Milky Way. And...the colors are different too. Like...I can actually see them at night. The sky’s all these shades of blue and purple. And the stars...they’re not white! Like of course, they’re not. Because there’s red giants and blue dwarfs and a bunch of other types. But I can actually see that!” His aura flared, visibly brightening in his excitement. “ So they’re blue and white and yellow and orange and red and...”
Phantom trailed off as his mom came down the stairs, a tupperware container in hand. But he was still smiling.
“Wow. That’s incredible.” Dad beamed up at him from his seat. “Maddie! You need to hear what Danny was telling me!” His eyes flickered to the container. “What you got there?”
The woman approached the pair and opened the lid. “Take a look.”
“Hot dogs?” The ghost boy questioned.
Mom held up a finger, placing down the food. “Just wait.” She walked back to her work station and grabbed a needle and syringe.
Phantom felt his core pulse, slightly nervous. “Mom?”
The woman looked up, giving him a comforting smile. “Remember yesterday? I suggested integrating ectoplasm with real world food.”
The boy nodded, still not understanding. He watched silently as Mom opened the packaging on the syringe and attached the plastic end of the needle to the end of the syringe. She twisted to remove the cap on the needle.
“Jack, honey. Can you hand me that ectoplasm?”
Dad handed over the cup. Mom dipped the end of the syringe into the ectoplasm and slowly lifted the plunger to draw up in the gelatinous substance and…
“Oh.” Phantom understood and she picked up one of the hotdogs and injected about three milliliters into the food. “Hybrid food… for the ghost-human hybrid.”
The adults both gave a chuckle. Mom continued the process with the other three hot dogs in the container. She put down the final log of meat.
The ghost stared down at the container questioningly. “So...do I just..try one?”
Mom nodded, giving him an encouraging smile. “Go for it, sweetie.”
Still unsure, Phantom picked up the first hot dog she’d injected. He held it between his thumb and pointer finger, studying. He could feel...something...where he was touching the food and…. He blinked as the object slowly started glowing green.
“Danny?” Mom asked, slightly worried.
“I’m not doing that.” He looked down. The other three hot dogs were starting to glow and….the one in his hand started to shake. The boy dropped it. “What the-”
Phantom didn’t finish speaking as growling sounds echoed from the… hot dogs? They levitated out of the box. The boy blinked and-
He yelped as something barreled into him. Being inhumanly light and without gravity pulling him down, the fast flying object slammed him into the wall.
“Umph!” Phantom slid onto the floor.
His eyes darted to his parents. Both of them were on the floor, apparently knocked down. And… there was an aggressive yowl. The ghost looked up and...the hot dogs were flying around the lab.
“What the hell!” Ghost Danny yelled as two of the hot dogs flew right into the cup of ectoplasm and knocked it over. Both glowed brighter and…
“Language!” Mom rebuked, pulling herself to her feet.
Then one of the hot dogs...weenies...ectoweenies flew right at her.
“Mom!” The ghost boy rose to his feet. One of the bright ectoweenies let out a roar and barreled into him. He knocked into the wall again. “Seriously?!”
The hot dog darted at his face and- Did it have a mouth?! Phantom instinctively raised a hand and shot at it. The ectoweenie dodged. The ghost boy pulled himself to his feet again. His hand lit again and-
“Ow! It bit me!” Dad yelled. Out of the corner of his eyes, ghost Danny saw the man punch one of the hot dogs. It knocked into the table, more ectoplasm spilling on it.
Another ectoweenie came for Phantom’s head and he darted up, hitting the ceiling. He shot down at it, ignoring the crash that sounded to his right. The hot dog dodged again.
There was an electric hum and neon green light behind him. “Take that!” Mom shouted.
The ghost couldn’t focus on that. He flipped in the air, his head pointed down. Wait..was he standing on the ceiling? Another flash of green below him. Phantom lit his own hands, eyes searching. Where-
Two ectoweenies rammed into him and he fell towards the ground. His ectoenergy went off course. Phantom screamed as a green shot whizzed past him at the same time. He tumbled in the air, for just a moment registering the ectogun in Mom’s hand, the end crackling with energy. The shadow of his heart skipped a beat. He flipped again, facing away from the woman.
There was a similar, though femine, shout, the hiss of cold energy impacting metal. Phantom landed heavily on the ground, his hands lit and held in front of him. His eyes flickered to Mom, her gun still hefted towards him. He flickered invisible for a second, eyes wide with fear. That gun...that gun…. She’d...almost shot him aga-
Mom’s expression finally registered in his mind. Her eyes were also wide with fear. She was scared as well. His core ached suddenly. Why-
His eyes flickered to the wall just above Mom’s head. It was cracked and peeling like...it had been super-cooled. Phantom banished the light in his hands, paling. “I’m...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
At the same time. “Danny! Sweetie. Are you okay? I’m so sorry.” Mom paled, almost dropping the gun in her haste to put it down.
Neither have time to answer, too distracted. Phantom barely registered Dad shouting. Another ectoweenie darted at Mom from the side, growling and foaming at the mouth. Phantom’s eyes widened again in fear. He flew up in a blink, just as the woman was covering her face. “Mom!”
Ghost Danny’s hands wrapped around her arm and he turned intangible, pulling the woman out of the way. For just a moment, Mom’s mouth fell open in surprise but...her gaze landed on his face, not on her own insubstantial body. The surprise vanished and her expression shifted. Her eyes… her eyes rounded, relieved and grateful. Phantom smiled back.
The moment was broken a second later as Ghost Danny let go of the woman. Mom wobbly landed on her feet? Had he… been making her float as well, without realizing it?
There was another crash to the side. A shout from Dad again. And… Phantom and his mother both ducked at the same time. The group of spectral hot dogs flew over their heads. The ghost stood again, fluidly turning his back to the adult. Mom turned as well so the pair were back to back, covering each other.
Another ectoweenie flew at the ghost’s face. He shot another ectoblast. And this time, the energy connected. The neon green light enveloped the piece of food. The hot dogs fell out of the air and...something half-dollar sized and green was thrown backwards.
The growling and yipping around him finally quieted. Phantom stared. There, suspended in the air, was an oblong glob of ectoplasm. Or…. his ghost sense finally went off as tiny black eyes blinked from the...blob? The blob that had come out of the hot dogs…. The tiny ghost (?) let out a whine. It twirled in the air, eyes darting about. The blob let out a high pitched, fearful-sounding shriek. Then it turned to the portal and darted through the mist. The other two ectoweenies followed, letting out their own moans.
The three Fentons just stood there for a long moment, staring at where the animated hot dogs had fled. Finally, Phantom shook his head to knock himself out of his funk. He turned to face his dad first. “Are you okay?”
The man nodded. “I’m fine, son.” He blinked. “That was something, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Ghost Danny turned to check on the other adult. “Mom? Are you okay? I’m...I’m so sorry about almost shooting you. I...I didn’t mean to do that. I… I’m so sorry.”
The woman placed a hand on his arm, squeezing comfortingly. “Danny, sweetie. It’s okay. I know it was an accident. And I’m fine, alright? Don’t worry.” Her lips turned down. “Are you alright?” She glanced to the ectogun on the table. “I almost… I almost shot you again.”
Phantom paled slightly, looking at the gun. Then his eyes went back to the woman’s face. “Hey. It’s okay. It was an accident, right?” Something in her expression shifted as she recognized the repeated words. “So we’re good?”
“Yes. Of course.” Mom reached out and hugged him.
Phantom accepted the hug, enjoying the embrace as he felt the adrenaline dwindle away. And now that he wasn’t in fight mode, there was…. Something else. A familiar feeling at the back of his mind.
Oh. Fenton. You were here.
His human gave a mental hum of agreement. And the ghost felt his muscles relax. For just a moment, he caught a glimpse of the school cafeteria. His vision was back in the lab and Mom was still hugging him. He gave the woman one last squeeze, from him and from Fenton. And ghost Danny stepped back.
Mom stepped back as well, a smile gracing her face. Then her brow wrinkled, studying him.
Phantom blushed. “What?”
“Your eyes… they’re blue.” She reached to place a hand on his face.
The ghost blinked. “My eyes are normally blue.”
The woman slowly removed her hand, brow furrowed in confusion. Phantom finally caught the oddity of that statement.
“I mean….” He started rambling. “They are when I’m a human...and I’ve been human for most of my life so...I guess I’m used to the idea of me having blue eyes… even if they’re actually green when I’m a ghost. And… Fenton has blue eyes...and he’s me. So…” Phantom trailed off, unsure of his own words. They were technically true but… had he even been the one to actually say those words? Or had it been Fenton who was still lingering?
Mom finally spoke. “Danny. You don’t have to explain yourself.” The corner of her lip turned up. “And I think your eyes are beautiful no matter what color they are.”
Ghost Danny blushed at the compliment, looking down. Normally, he would have complained but he was just too stunned by this whole exchange…. And still a little shook by the near misses on both their parts, despite saying that it was fine.
Finally, the boy shook his head, trying to force the feelings away. "Okay. I've got to see what you're talking about."
Phantom turned around and floated to the bathroom attached to the lab. He opened the door and fixed his eyes on the mirror over the sink. He gasped. Sure enough… his eyes were blue, the same icy blue as his human half but…. He blinked. They were still glowing, bright with his normal spectral aura.
"Woah. Look at that." The ghost breathed.
It was so odd, to see the now familiar green eyes switched with blue. But… the corner of his lip turned up. They still felt like his eyes; even if this wasn't typical, it was still right.
Footsteps approached, one heavier and one lighter pair. Dad spoke. "Madds! You're right."
Mom gave an agreeing hum. "Do you have any idea why they're doing that, Danny?"
Phantom didn't answer right away, still smiling at his reflection. "Maybe it's a perception sharing thing." He turned his head.
"Perception sharing?" Mom asked.
" 'cause human me's seeing this too."
Both parents nodded, understanding. Then Mom raised a brow. "That happens often, doesn't it?"
The ghost shrugged. "I guess." He turned back to the mirror. "Dude, you should go back to lunch." He felt an impulse to roll his eyes - Fenton's influence definitely - which he rejected. "Yeah, yeah." His mouth muttered. "See ya later."
In the mirror, his eyes returned to green. Phantom sighed, feeling sadly lonely now. He turned back to his parents, who weren't looking at him all that oddly for once.
“Is it just you now?” Mom asked gently.
The ghost grumbled. “It’s always just me.”
The woman’s brow creased. “Just this you, then.”
That made ghost Danny’s frown deepen. “Yep. Just Phantom.” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddening feeling awkward at the wording. His eyes flickered around the room. “Dang...the lab’s a mess.”
For just a moment, Mom’s expression shifted as if she wanted to say something else.
Then Dad spoke. “Those ghost hot dogs did a number, didn’t they?” He motioned to the spilled beakers and ectoplasm covered tables.
“Yeah.” Phantom frowned. “What even was that?”
Mom crossed her arms, a similar questioning look on her face. “That was very strange. The ectoplasm I injected was inert. It was purified straight from the portal but… you both saw what happened.” Her eyes flickered to the swirling green mist. “And that green… creature that flew into the portal.”
The ghost nodded, still wondering. Then… “It set off my ghost sense.” His confused expression deepened.
Dad raised a brow. “The hot dogs?”
“Yeah.” Phantom confirmed. “I felt...something when I picked up one of them. And...that little green thing that flew out...it looked like one of those blob ghosts I saw on the other side of the portal.”
“So…” A look of realization passed over the woman’s face. “It was a ghost.”
“But...where did it come from?” The other adult asked.
Ghost Danny shrugged, at just as much a loss as his father. He turned to his other parent, expecting her to look just as confused but…. Mom had a troubled look, which deepened when she noticed his eyes on her.
“I have an idea.” The woman finally said.
“Well?” Phantom raised a brow.
Mom swallowed. “Well...we’d thought that ghosts can form spontaneously with enough concentrated ectoplasm and strong emotions. And with our emotional imprinting idea…”
The ghost boy flinched, eyes widening with hurt; the words were an unpleasant stab to the core.
The woman noticed the reaction. “Danny, sweetie. We’re already well past that. I know who you are… and it’s not an imprint.”
Phantom relaxed, taking a breath. When had he tensed? “I know that.” And he did. He shouldn’t have even considered that she was implying that. “But still…” He crossed his arms. “Ghosts are the souls of dead people. I’m...I’m sure that’s true. Sidney’s not an imprint. He couldn’t tell I wasn’t a full ghost like him so… we can’t be that different. If I’m not a copy of my living self, then he can’t be either.”
Mom tilted her head back and forth, considering. “That is a point…”
Dad scratched his head, also thinking. Then… “There might be a lot of different ways ghosts form though. Some are like Danny and his friend. And others are imprints. Maybe there’s other ways to. It’s like….” He pointed in a sudden realization. “Living things here reproduce in a bunch of different ways. Why would ghosts be different?”
Phantom shook his head. Okay. His parents might have a point there. But... “Okay. Sure but… what’s the connection between emotional imprinting and those ectoweenies then?”
“Ectoweenies?” Dad asked. “That’s a good one.”
Ghost Danny figured the man would think so but he didn’t reply, too focused on the other adult.
Mom bit her lip. “The idea is ghosts can form from emotions imprinting on ectoplasm, any emotions not just those… associated with a death and….there’s been a lot of strong emotions in the room in the past month.”
Ghost Danny felt his stomach flop as he understood. The implication... So...blob ghosts…. Formed from the sorrow, fear, and anger he’d felt in this lab. From his parents’ grief and guilt. He didn’t...he didn’t like how that sounded. He wanted to argue that it couldn’t be the case but… “I think...they were scared.”
Now that he thought about it, it was clear. Trying to attack the three of them, that cry of fear, fleeing through the portal. Those small, newly formed blobs had been afraid and panicking. They were cornered animals lashing out.
A look of understanding passed over the woman’s face. She nodded. “I think you might be right.”
Dad looked similarly thoughtful, all three people turning to look at the portal again. And Phantom was left to wonder about the implications. About those blobs with a strange connection to him and his family. What would happen to them, in the infinitely big Realm of the Dead? Would he see them again? And what were they, really? Was his mom right? So many questions, so many uncertainties about ghosts. Again, where exactly did he belong in this new world of ghosts? And-
“Ya know, normally you fight your dinner when it’s still alive.” Dad mused. “I never thought I’d have to fight it after it’s cooked.” The man chuckled. “Makes me hungry. I’m gonna go eat lunch. Coming Mads? Danny?”
The corner of Phantom’s mouth turned up. Leave it to his father to break the thoughtful pause with mentions of food. “Coming.” He floated upstairs after his parents.
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sleep like the dead
“And now, I, Technus, shall finally have my electronic vengeance on you, ghost child and conquer this puny human world!” Technus shrieked, exiting the portal in a suitably dramatic fashion. The various weapons around the lab shook and trembled from his power and static from his core crackled, raring for a fight with his favorite enemy. Only the Phantom didn’t appear.
“Hmm, maybe I wasn’t loud enough,” Technus mused before starting up again. “Pathetic Phantom! You can only hope your miniscule half human strength will be enough to take on my squiggling mess of the tangled wires of terror!” He threw back his head and cackled loudly, waiting for his nemesis to show and the battle to begin. His laughter petered out after a bit and the lab became silent once more.
“Well, now he’s just being rude,” Technus fumed, floating up through the ceiling. “Don’t ignore my threats, child. I know you’re here, I can feel your cold core.” He stopped once he reached the ghost boy’s human lair, hovering a few feet from the bed where his rival was sprawled out, sound asleep.
“Come ghost boy, it’s time for fisticuffs! I have some new moves and some great catchphrases I’m ready to try out on you!” The technology ghost exclaimed in excitement, miming some punches. Phantom didn’t answer, just kept laying there barely moving save for his soft, shallow breaths. Technus watched as his breath fogged with each exhale, his core’s ghost sense but it still didn’t awaken him. “Child? Have you expired?”
He leaned forward and gently poked the boy’s cheek. It was squishy but firm unlike a ghost’s exterior and he could feel the dense bone underneath. Phantom didn’t so much as twitch. Technus drew back his hand, unsure of what to do. He’d surprised the child while he was in bed before but he always woke up and they fell into the usual routine. But now he’d changed the script and if there was something ghosts didn’t like, it was change. He flew back down to the portal and sped into the Ghost Zone at top speed, searching for someone who would be able to help him understand.
“Wow, baby pop whooped your butt that fast? Either he’s getting better or you’re getting more pathetic, my bet is the latter,” Ember teased as she strummed to herself from a floating rock near her lair.
“The ghost child won’t wake up and fight,” Technus said in a rush. “I went to the human world but no one answered my challenge. I went to his human lair and he was just lying on his bed thing and he wouldn’t move, even when I touched him.”
“That’s not like him, he’s usually more hopped up and ready to fight than a groupie on coke,” Ember frowned, setting aside her guitar. “Well come on, sparky, lets go check the kid out.”
They developed something of an entourage making their way back to the human portal. A few of the locals had heard that the infamous half ghost child was behaving differently and well, curiosity didn’t stop when the cat was killed. Skulker chuckled menacingly under his breath, Youngblood bounced around the adults. Johnny and Kitty had been going to the real world anyway and decided to tag along.
“Were his folks or Jazz home?" Johnny asked, riding his cycle slow enough to keep pace with the group.
“Who?” Technus questioned, “er no, the annoying children always with him were not around for once.”
“Annoying yes but they don’t live- uh occupy the same lair as the brat,” Johnny explained. As a younger ghost who’d held onto his humanity more than some, he had a better grasp of human culture. “His parents, the crazy ghost hunters in the blue and orange jumpsuits. Or his sister, Jazz. She has red hair and is kind of a know it all. They’re his family, they live with him.”
“Oh those weirdos,” Youngblood said wrinkling his nose. “Always loud and shouting about ripping apart ghosts. They’re not even good hunters.”
“Obviously, they haven’t noticed they got a ghost living with ‘em,” Ember added with an eyeroll.
“It’s a very stressful situation, Danny was worried about what they’d do if they found out,” Kitty frowned before sticking her tongue out at Johnny. “Danny’s a good guy, at least he talked to me about things that mattered.”
“Good target practice, you mean,” Skulker declared as they entered through the portal. Instinctively they all looked up to where the ghost boy’s core was humming but sensed no movement. “Alright, I will admit that is weird. Let’s see what the whelp’s up to.”
It was a bit cramped, the five of them crammed into the small room especially when they were keeping their distance from the room’s only living occupant. He had not moved since Technus had last been in here. At their entrance, his breath fogged again and he shivered for a second before settling back down.
“Well, he’s alive at least,” Johnny shrugged before leaning in close to examine him. “Kid looks wiped though.” He picked up the boy’s bony wrist which had been dangling off the bed, his fingers brushing the floor and held it up before dropping it. His knuckles rapped against the ground but he didn’t stir.
“Johnny, leave him alone, he’s trying to sleep,” Kitty hissed, yanking her boyfriend back by his ear.
“Come on, I’m not doing anything bad,” Johnny defended. “But, come on, how often are we gonna get a chance like this?”
“Hmm is human sleep that interesting that the ghost child would ignore all of us?” Technus asked, floating over and laying himself down on the bed. He laid there on the bed next to the boy for a few moments. “I do not believe I’m doing this correctly.”
“Nah you gotta close your eyes and go off to dreamland,” Youngblood said, grabbing a sock off the floor and then some papers from the desk and began stacking them on the half ghost’s head. The boy still didn’t react in the slightest.
“Is dreamland close? Another pocket dimension like the Zone?” Technus, ever the scientist, asked curiously.
“No, you idiot,” Ember sighed before tentatively reaching out and laying a hand on Phantom’s chest. “Yow, man that’s weird.”
“What?” Skulker asked, having been mostly content to watch until now. Youngblood had now piled several more items on the ghost boy’s head but he slept on, unawares.
“It’s just,” she scrunched up her face as she looked for the words, “I know what ghost cores feel like and I’ve been around enough humans to know the signs of life but he’s got both at once. His core flares and fades opposite his heart beat. It shouldn’t work but it does, somehow.”
“He is a most curious specimen, I rarely see Plasmius in his human skin so it’s hard to compare,” Skulker commented. “Of course Plasmius I can understand. He acts like a ghost, thinks like one. But the child, he’s certainly a ghost but he’s also decidingly... human.”
“That’s why we should be leaving him alone,” Kitty frowned, plucking Youngblood out of the air and moving him away from the sleeping teen. “If Danny isn’t waking up with all of us causing a racket then clearly he’s exhausted. We bother him enough, let him rest and fight him some other time.”
“But I wanted to fight now,” Technus whined, rolling over on the bed and resting one arm over the ghost boy’s body. “The Phantom surely wants to hear my latest monologue on how I’m the supreme ruler of everything electronic and beeping.”
“I know I don’t,” Youngblood shrugged.
“Me neither,” Johnny scoffed.
“Or me,” Ember muttered, putting her hands on her hips.
“Just let him rest,” Kitty said shooing the others back and gently brushing some of the kid’s hair out of his face revealing sallow features and dark marks under his eyes. “It’s hard enough being human much less a ghost on top of that; between fighting us and trying to have a normal life I bet he hardly gets any sleep. The least we can do is give him a break before he breaks.”
“I suppose it’s not sporting to kill a sleeping prey,” Skulker pouted. “And it’ll make his defeat more meaningful if he’s well rested and not uh,” he gestured to the Phantom’s general state of disarray.
“Better appreciate it,” Ember sulked for a second, kicking away some pajama pants from the floor. “His stupid human life. I’d give anything to sleep again, just for a minute.”
The ghosts sat in quiet contemplation for a moment, the dead looking enviously and curiously on the silent, sleeping boy, on a world they could only watch but not engage in. The moment was shattered by the front door slamming open.
“DANNO WE’RE HOME AND WE BROUGHT CHINESE!” Resonated through the house. Startled awake, the ghost child leapt out of the bed and hovered about a foot above it for a moment before sinking back down.
“Darn it Dad, I was napping,” Danny grumbled before he opened his eyes and saw several of his ghostly enemies standing awkwardly in his room. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Technus lounging on his bed. “What the-”
“Oh good, you’re awake!” Technus tittered happily, leaning into his personal space. “Ready to hear my spiel?” The temperature in the room dropped rapidly as his core ramped up and spilled over into his eyes which were no doubt glowing a fierce green.
“Get out of my room!” He shouted, reaching over to grab his emergency under the bed thermos but a sock falling from his hair into his face distracted him.
“Hey, just stopping by but we were just on our way out, sleep well, Danny sweetie!” Kitty said dragging the whole group through the floor. His core thrummed in agitation until he felt them cross the portal into the Ghost Zone. He sat there for a moment, shaking and panting from the adrenaline rush before he decided he really didn’t want to know. He flopped back onto the bed and reached over on his nightstand for the bottle Jazz had given him the other day.
“The heck is in this stupid sleep aid?”
#danny phantom#another flash is the pan DP fic#just something about Danny being so tired (also ODed on Nyquil) that he just misses his ghost sense going off#and the ghosts being there and without all the threats of death#just kind of hanging around#looking over him curiously snooping#how often do they get to like see him up close?#he's a freak! lets look him over also stack shit on his head!#and the weird space where you just cant remember being human and what sleeping is like but also being so envious that you cant do it anymore#((also just a note that Danny had all his enemies in his room and slept soundly but woke up in a jolt when his parents got home))#((take that as you will))
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