#ectober
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23. Technus
Ectober 2023
I just love the idea of Tucker and Technus becoming friends.
#danny phantom#tucker foley#nicolai technus#Ectoberhaunt23#ectober#EH science#Day 23#Technus#comic#(this is probably my favorite of the stuff I have drawn for this ectober)
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fixed point
“Would you like to know how much time you have left?” Clockwork asked.
Danny had never wished more that he’d died in something with pockets so he could hide his shaking hands. The endless ticking in the lair—hundreds of hands TICK TICK TICK -ing in perfect sync—had never sounded so ominous.
“I—” his voice rattled his throat, a raw thing “—I didn’t think you gave spoilers.”
With an absent spin of their staff, Clockwork shifted from adult to child and said nothing. Dread hung heavy in the air, Clockwork’s unblinking stare piercing through it all. Danny pointedly did not make eye contact. Instead focusing on the oscillating hands of the wall behind them.
He took a breath.
“Will it make it easier, knowing?”
Clockwork blinked once, face betraying nothing.
Dammit.
He wasn’t an idiot. There was really only one outcome of this conversation. Just as there had been the day he’d first pulled on his jumpsuit, walking—tripping—through the threshold. Life snuffed out of him in less than a second.
He brought his shaking hands together and met Clockwork’s even gaze.
And answered.
Thirteen days.
Seven hours.
Thirty-six minutes.
It was somehow both longer and shorter than he’d expected.
It was also a weight off his shoulders, at least in the beginning. It wouldn’t happen any earlier than the date Clockwork had recounted that night. Thirteen days of freedom. Peace. Liberation.
Because if he thought too much about the length of thirteen days, how three-hundred or so hours wasn’t enough time— it’s not fucking FAIR —he would be swallowed by the crushing anxiety that made its permanent home in his stomach.
So there was that.
He didn’t bother telling his friends. They were already all on edge, but if he could act like all was well he could ease their worries. Because ultimately they were just worried about him, and if he was fine they would be too.
He did, however, make contingency plans. Farewell videos on a USB drive taped to the underside of his bed.
He wanted Clockwork to be wrong. Some nights he laid awake, trying his damndest to find a way off this track. This self-fulfilling prophecy. But there was nothing. That moment had already passed with that stupid news broadcast that had glued him to the couch, shaking, as his parents had shouted and jeered at the screen. Dismissive. Furious. Invested.
They hadn’t noticed when he pushed himself off the couch and stumbled, shaking, to the bathroom to purge the contents of his stomach.
It was a miracle he’d only gotten a two-day suspension for slugging Wes in the face in front of the whole cafeteria. Even more so that no one had pieced it together from that.
No one saw him. But they would. When it was too late.
He couldn’t stop it. But as he didn’t acknowledge it in the waking world it wouldn’t exist. So he reserved his existential crises for when there was nothing to distract him from the looming, inevitable deadline.
He wished he could tell Mr. Lancer that whenever he was given detention that afternoon.
On the night of the twelfth day, he didn’t sleep a wink. No amount of coffee could keep his head above his desk that morning, and so, Danny spent his final hour in detention. He considered skipping. Detention was not the place for everything to come to an end.
But wouldn’t leaving—deviating from his normal routine—up the chances of putting events in motion?
Avoidance was his specialty, after all.
Jazz could write a paper on his coping tactics alone if she hadn’t already.
At nineteen minutes Mr. Lancer stopped in front of his desk. It was only him and Valerie today, and she sat somewhere three desks behind and to his left of him. Her hair was in a loose ponytail, loose yellow sleeves draped over her hands. The bags under her eyes rivaled his own, even though he was sure there hadn’t been too many ghosts in the past week or so—but then again, he’d not been the most attentive to things on the ghost front lately. It was probably his fault she was here at all.
“Mr. Fenton,” Lancer said. He forced his head to turn, a feat much more difficult than it sounded. His head felt full of lead. “Is everything alright at home?”
Danny forced himself not to cringe.
“Uh.” He ignored the sound of Valerie shifting in her seat behind him. Great. An audience. “Yes.”
“I’ve noticed you’ve been getting much less sleep of late, is all.”
Now this was a load of shit. Danny’s sleep schedule was normally trash. This current existential crisis was no more taxing than his normal night activities.
Lancer continued. “And your parents have—” he paused, eyes flitting somewhere behind him. “—in light of recent revelations, I just worry, Mr. Fenton.”
Hm.
Did he know, then?
Was this it?
Danny stared stupidly for a moment, forgetting to shut his mouth. And then shrugged.
Falling back on ignorance.
If he was honest, he hadn’t quite expected Lancer to be the one to put it together, but it also made sense.
Lancer’s mouth thinned. “I know they can be intense, especially with the scrutiny placed on our school now. No one should feel scared to come to school. Or go home,” he said, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. “This is a safe space.”
For a moment all he could hear was the drum of his heart in his chest. And then behind him, Valerie cleared her throat.
“With all due respect, Mr. Lancer,” she said, “nowhere is safe with that putrid ghost hiding among us.”
Danny didn’t turn around. Lancer’s reaction was subdued, but there was a protective fire in his eyes that confirmed Danny’s suspicions. He wondered how long ago he’d put it together.
“Ms. Gray,” Lancer said, “I see your point, but I’m just trying to ease tensions.”
Danny checked the clock.
Seventeen minutes.
Maybe he should’ve skipped detention after all.
(No escaping the inevitable. No do-overs this time.)
Valerie scoffed. “So what? We let our guard down?” he chanced a glance behind him, and Valerie’s eyes were red-rimmed—from lack of sleep or otherwise he had no idea. “Someone here is a walking weapon and we’re supposed to ignore this? Fenton at least knows he’ll be safe at home, but what about the rest of us? We don’t get to go home to ghost-hunting parents—we have to hold our own.”
Lancer nodded. “I understand. I just think that it’s very frightening for all of us, ghost hunters or not.”
Danny’s voice cracked when he spoke. “Yeah.”
Valerie’s expression softened. “I didn’t mean to make light—”
“No. No, you’re right,” he said. “It’s not safe with Phantom as a student here. Whoever he is.”
She sighed. “Danny, I don’t know what it’s like with your parents, but—”
“But what?” he cut her off. “Because they’re ghost hunters they’re automatically the safest people in the room?” He lowered his voice. “You would think that.”
She froze. “What does that mean?”
Hm. Whoops.
“People don’t know what it’s like, I guess.”
Danny turned back around. Lancer’s stare was dripping with sympathy.
Fifteen minutes.
There was a scrape of a chair, a thud of feet, and a warm hand on his shoulder. Valerie released him just as fast. When he met her eyes, they were as wide as saucers.
“D—Danny,” she said with a note of panic. “You’re cold.”
“Yeah?” he asked.
She took a step back. He hadn’t seen her this scared since they’d been stranded on Skulker’s island together. He could see the realization dawning.
“Val,” he said, knowing full well what was going through her head, “what’s wrong?”
“It’s not you,” she said, a desperate plea. “I can’t be this stupid.”
He sighed and Lancer stepped between them.
“Ms. Gray,” he said, “now let’s not jump to conclusions—”
“No!” she shook her head. “No, no, no! It doesn’t make sense. You’re—your parents hunt ghosts. Hunt Phantom.”
Danny crossed his arms.
“So do you.”
Lancer looked between them like Danny had announced that he liked eating golf balls. “What.”
Tears welled in Valerie’s eyes. “I trusted you!”
The minute hand inched forward.
Fourteen.
“You trusted me to what?”
Valerie clenched her fists. “Don’t do that! Don’t play stupid!”
“Ms. Gray—”
“I’m not playing.” Danny turned sideways in his desk, facing her head-on. “Tell me what you think I’ve done, Val.”
“Mr. Fenton—!”
“You replaced him. You replaced Danny. How long have you been pretending to be him? To be alive? How can you live with yourself, going home everyday and seeing his parents and—and—acting like you’re still—” she choked on her tears. “You terrorize this town, Phantom. I won’t let you take anything else from me, or anyone.”
Lancer’s eyes were wide. He’d never seen the man so shocked, in such foreign territory.
Valerie, on the other hand, was resolute. There was as much determination in her face as tears.
“I’m still me,” he said. “I died, but I came back. I never replaced myself, however that works. I am sorry, Val. There’s a lot that—”
“Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! ”
“—that I didn’t mean to happen.”
Lancer slammed his hand on Danny’s desk.
“Can we all settle down!”
It all happened in a matter of seconds. The clock in his peripheral kept him tethered to the moment.
Valerie reached behind her and pulled a blaster.
A flash of red—
(The minute hand moves.
Thirteen.)
—and a burst of hot pain through his side.
He crumpled forward, his head meeting the linoleum floor with a SMACK and somewhere above him a distant shout.
Everything from his side to his cranium THROBBED and it wouldn’t fucking stop.
(He’d taken hits from Val before. This shouldn’t hurt so much. Why does this—?)
Iron pooled in his mouth.
Oh right.
Ectoplasm was thicker than blood.
Danny tried to push himself up from the floor but the world spun and his arms gave out below him and he slumped back down to the cold, hard floor.
The floor felt better.
Maybe he would…
Stay here for a while…
***
The television clicked on. A rerun of the six o’clock news.
He didn’t let Jazz turn it off.
“According to a recent report, there is speculation that our local ghost vigilante Phantom might be living among us. Care to tell us more, Lance?”
“Yes, Tiffany.” Lance Thunder’s stupid blonde hair was polished and perfect as usual and he wanted to wipe that stupid half-smile off the bastard’s face. “A ghost ID’ed as Walker —” at this, a crude picture that was mostly just a white blur appeared on the screen “— has publicly announced that our hero is a student at Casper High fooling us, flying under the radar.”
“And as far as we understand, tips from ghosts aren’t verifiable…?”
“Normally, yes, but there is evidence to suggest that—”
“This isn’t good for you,” Jazz hissed. “I know that it’s scary, but—”
“Exposure therapy,” he snapped back. “It’s gonna be the talk of the school anyway.”
She slumped back down onto the couch. “Take care of yourself.”
The door to the lab was thrown open. His parents marched through the kitchen and into the living room, perfectly eclipsing the TV.
“—telling you, Jack. The DNA scans are inconclusive at best. Their so-called ‘experts’ are out of their depths.”
“We’ll show them once and for all. If we can find out which student it’s using as cover—”
“—we’ll expose Phantom for the monster he is!”
His parents disappeared upstairs for the night, but he could still hear snippets of their vows to destroy him.
He shot Jazz a tired look. “Easier said than done.”
***
Someone was touching him.
Everything on his left burned. Far above him were LEDs and beige ceiling tiles. He wasn’t sure when he’d been rolled onto his back. But he was now, and someone was pressing down on the spot that burned burned burned—!
Blood trickled down his throat.
How many minutes had it been?
How many did he have left?
There were voices, somewhere, but everything sounded like it was underwater. Maybe it was. Drowning would be preferable to many of the other deaths he’d prepared for. Still terrible, sure, but vivisection lowered the bar considerably.
“—have you done!”
“He’s—” A girl’s voice wavered, quiet. “He’s Phantom. He’s not supposed to—to—”
Wow. Valerie had the decency to sound ashamed.
At least he could die knowing that his killer at least had a few shreds of regret.
(Is it sad that it’s more than he expected?)
“—little first aid.” The pain came in waves, and all Danny could hear was the rush of his stupid heart in his ears. “—expecting shootings in America, but not from a—”
Just as fast as it came, the world melted away. His last grasp on consciousness slipped away.
(As fast as the click of a button.)
***
Wes had a punchable face.
But hey—that’s what you get for talking to the press. The accusations were written off as pretty baseless, but the damage had been done. He got inquisitive stares now and again. After all, Wes was a joke, but his interview put Danny’s name on the list of suspects and that was enough to fuck his entire life over.
After his two-day suspension, Danny had little opportunity to survey his work. Honestly, more people asked him about how bad he fucked up Wes’s face than whether or not he was Phantom.
(From what he had seen, it was in a perpetual state of purple and that was enough to curb his anger for now.)
So. He had two days off from school.
Danny went to see Clockwork.
Long Now welcomed him with welcome arms, and he broke down into a fit of whines and gripes about how it seemed like everyone was out to get him, that everyone wanted to put his head on a pike. Everyone wanted to ferret out the wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Clockwork shared their sympathies.
“No matter what I do, I just—I’m a wreck. I think someone’s figured it out. That they know, but then I mention it to Jazz or Sam or Tucker and I’m just paranoid and I think I’m paranoid now and—” he groaned. “I don’t know what to do. I’m losing my mind.”
“You do know that it’s inevitable that the truth comes to light.”
He froze. “What.”
Clockwork shifted from senior to adult. “Your paranoia isn’t for naught. It’s a matter of time.”
No. This couldn’t be happening.
He’d figure a way out.
There had to be something.
“I thought nothing was inevitable.”
“Not nothing,” Clockwork hummed. “Often, it is nothing. But not this time.”
Their words shook him to the core. He’d suspected it, sure, but confirmation was—
“I know it isn’t fair.”
“Don’t tell me what is and isn’t fair!” Danny snapped. “Your entire life isn’t—isn’t under scrutiny for everyone. If they know that I’m me, I—”
He pressed his hands to his chest.
He would be finished.
One way or another, someone would find a way to put him on their table.
The government.
His parents.
Maybe someone else out for his blood.
(His body.)
“I can’t see what will happen past them learning the truth,” Clockwork said. “But it is a fixed point. Everything past that diverges, a thousand roads. Timelines. Possibilities. I can’t tell you what to expect. The best, the worst. I cannot offer that reassurance.”
“Oh.”
They nodded. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“I don’t want them to find out,” he said in a pathetic whine.
For a long moment, Clockwork said nothing. If not for the constant ticking of clocks, he would have thought they were frozen. But then Clockwork’s expression shifted.
And they asked:
“Would you like to know?”
***
…
……
………
Warbled voices were around him again. Different.
But this time more in focus.
“Sir, Ma’am, if you could leave the room—”
“I will NOT. That is my son, and I am not leaving until someone tells me why there is a HOLE in his chest—!”
And somewhere else, a shriek of sobs.
“We’re transporting him to the hospital, you can’t—”
“I did it,” said that same, sobbing voice. “I shot him. I shot him.”
More people were touching him and Danny didn’t like it oh god no no no —
“—get him on the stretcher—”
“—the hell DID you—”
“—Ms. Gray, you—”
“—no! I want to know why—”
“—securing him, just—”
And now time did slow.
The EMTs lifted the stretcher.
And his face lolled to the side, giving him a clear view of the clock.
The minute hand moved one last time.
Just as:
“I didn’t mean to! I didn’t—he’s Phantom, I didn’t think that it would—!” Valerie, cut off, sobbing. “I’m so sorry, Danny. If you can hear me, I’m so sorry.”
And then there was silence.
Crushing darkness.
***
If he had any last doubts that his secret was out, they were snuffed out when he woke up in the hospital to the pained faces of his parents. Jazz was in the chair to his left, hair mussed up and asleep. His parents’ eyes were red with tears. In his delirium, he also noticed Sam’s backpack discarded in the corner.
How long had—?
“Two days.”
Clockwork appeared before him in their adult form. They swung their staff, looking rather pleased with themselves. Danny then realized the occupants of the room had been frozen as long as he’d been awake.
“You’re recovering well, all considered.” Clockwork tapped a clipboard on a nearby table. “I will say, I am surprised that we took this route. It is what you might call a ‘spoiler,’ but it’s kinder than most.”
“Is it,” he said, voice hoarse.
Clockwork waited for him to finish coughing up his lungs before speaking again. “They’re handling it as best they can. I won’t say it’s great, but you’re on the way there.”
“I—what happened, again?”
And as he asked, it came rushing back.
Lancer. Valerie.
And paramedics?
Clockwork gave him a knowing smile. “Your teacher called an ambulance. In his panic, he might have let it slip that you were having a reaction because of a ghost weapon, and your parents were looped into the call.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Danny’s eyes found his frozen heart monitor, time stopped between beats. Below, his mother had tied off the top half of her HAZMAT suit and was wearing a black shirt beneath. He did notice that the contents of her weapons belt were emptied.
He turned back to Clockwork. “How did they take it?”
They shrugged. “Why don’t you ask them?”
“Wait—wait, I'm not ready.”
“How about this? I tell you how much time you have left.” They raised their staff. “Three—”
“Clockwork—”
“Two—”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Time in.”
#Danny Phantom#Danny Fenton#Valerie Gray#Clockwork#Danny Phantom Fanfiction#Fanfiction#Phicc#Phic#Danny Phantom Fic#wrwritings#angst#ectober#ectober week 2023#ectober week#ectober 2023#ectoberweek2023
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Ten years ago, the first Ectoberweek took place. It was part of the beginning years of events celebrating the Danny Phantom phandom's creativity through themed, prompted calendars. But from all the events of 2013, ectoberweek stood out. As a fandom about "the ghost kid show," an event prompting spooky fic/art around Halloween was simply a no-brainer.
Although many events have come and gone throughout the past decade, Ectoberweek has carried on. And now, we are happy to present the Ectoberweek 2023 Calendar to all of you!
Similar to last year, this calendar provides two prompt options for each day: a one word prompt, and a two sentence horror story. You can choose to base your creations off one or both prompts each day.
(Note: The one-word prompts are not limited to artists, and the two sentence prompts are not limited to writers. Both prompts are available to anyone who wants to try them.)
All content directly related to the Danny Phantom cartoon is acceptable for this challenge. Ships, non-ships, crossovers, angst, fluff, classic art, digital art—so long as it relates to the show, how you choose to represent these prompts is entirely up to you.
Tag your work with #ectoberweek2023 so we can all see it. Happy ten years, and we cannot wait to see all the amazing directions you all will take these prompts!
✨ Art credit for this year's calendar goes to @duchi-nesten. Thank you SO MUCH for this lovely calendar! And the Cujo, who is adorable as always! ✨
All Prompts Written Out:
25: Will-o'-wisps
It finally sunk in for Jack and Maddie: no matter how alive he seemed, Danny was actually dead. So they buried him.
26: Cults
Students start to go missing. At the same time, the Guys in White go quiet.
27: Circus Gothica
Blood blossoms weren't named for their blood red color. They were named for the liquid they fed on.
28: Possession
It's not an obsession if he can keep it under control. Right?
29: Masquerade
"Would you like to know how much time you have left?" Clockwork asked. The endless ticking in the lair had never sounded so ominous.
30: Ecto-acne
“Everything that happens twice will surely happen a third time.” Danny doesn’t look forward to his third time getting dissected.
31: Ten Years
It had been a decade since anyone last lived at Fenton Works. Or so people thought.
Bonus Prompt: Make a sequel to one of your own works, or create a fic/art piece to accompany an older fic/art from someone else!
#ectoberweek2023#danny phantom#ectober#halloween#dp events#fic event#art event#writing event#calendar#prompt calendar
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[Image ID: An artwork featuring Sam Manson standing with her back facing the camera in a field of red flowers. She is wearing a purple short-sleeved shirt tucked into a black half-corset, over a mesh/fishnet shirt. She has a torn purple skirt with a green inside, wearing dark pants under it and boots. She has one arm to the side, it can’t be told whether the hand is covered in her own blood, or the blood of others. Her skirt is stained, too. Above her head is written “Thou wilt find that blood is spirit - Friedrich Nietzsche” /End ID]
Day 27: “Blood blossoms weren't named for their blood red color. They were named for the liquid they fed on.”
pov: i went brushset hunting for a good flower brush because damn if i was spending more than an hour on this. On a side note, though, i hc this is an au of the dan phantom timeline where sam lived and chose to grow blood blossoms to, eventually, kill dan. apologies if this is early it’s like. 8pm aest 27th oct so it’s on time for me lmaoooo
#randomartmaker art#digital art#my art#danny phantom#sam manson#samantha manson#fanart#ectober#ectoberweek2023#ectober 2023#danny phantom fanart#idk.
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Ectober 13
Horror Flick
#danny phantom#ectoberhaunt23#Horror flick#Sam'c chosing the movie from her phone#danny fenton#sam manson#tucker foley#movie night#art#fanart#sleepy Danny#ectober
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He's a phantom ~ 👻
I actually suck at drawing daily 🥺 so I made a bunch of sketches for ectober and inktober of my good boy Invisobill!
#danny phantom#danny phantom fanart#ectober 2022#halloween#fanart#art#arte#the boy tm#ectober#inktober#penbensie#sketches doodles#sketches#doodles#he's a phantom#phandom
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Ectoberhaunt 2023:Technomancy
Sup I'm so late
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Day 2 Tecnomancy
Ghost zones greatest hunter is 10cm tall.
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Prison Ghost
Happy Halloween 🎃
#danny phantom#fanart#fan comic#danny fenton#fenton#phanart#dp#ectober#prison#walker prison#albinotopaz#comic#illustration#digital illustration#older danny#ghost
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Due to technical difficulties this is releasing later than desired. We thank everyone for their patience!
@dpxdcweek is where you can find the full FAQ for the DPxDC week event
@this-is-z-art-blog has the full detials about the Eight Ecto Nights events, plus a more detailed history of Hannukah/חנוכה on their page.
@phandomholidaytruce will have more details for their event on their page as well!
EctoHaunt shoutouts
@sumiink
@lilianade-comics
@marzfartz is the artist but @wingedflight did collaborate with them to write matching fanfics
@pricklenettle
@tsubaki94
Ectober Week 23 Shout outs
@secretly-an-automaton
@transgenderkagaminelen
@therandomartmaker
@drawnale
@tanglepelt
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Under Control
Written for Ectober day 28.
.
The first time Danny zoned out stargazing after the Accident he didn’t think much of it. He’d been about as stressed as it was humanly possible to get - and he was still human, one hundred percent, he just had ghost powers, that’s all - and he’d needed the down time. The fifth time, he started to get a little more concerned. Then, there was the incident that had put ViewTube behind a parental lock on the family computer. He’d started on one, reasonably short video about black holes, and somehow gotten through five college-level lectures on the life cycles of stars. He remembered all of them, of course, word for word. He just… didn’t know where the time went. There were smaller things, too. Talking Sam’s ear off and redirecting the conversation back to astronomy even when she obviously wanted to talk about the Humpty Dumpty concert. Grinding for the constellation-themed items in Doomed and using them to the exclusion of everything else even when they objectively sucked.
But, really, the thing that really scared Danny was when he got distracted in the middle of a ghost fight. It wasn’t a hard fight. The Box Ghost was routine at this point. He wasn’t even distracted for that long. It had just been a fraction of a second where he looked up, his eyes caught by the moon and how amazing it was. He didn’t think Tucker or Sam even noticed. If they did, they didn’t bring it up.
It didn’t matter. It was unacceptable. He couldn’t afford to get distracted by stuff like that. What if he was fighting Undergrowth? Vortex? Spectra? People were relying on him.
He knew what this was, though. He’d been fighting ghosts for months and living with his parents for years, and it wasn’t like any of them were subtle.
But… It wasn’t an obsession if he could keep it under control. Right?
He made lists. What had made him zone out. What hadn’t. He’d had to put the list on the list, because apparently remembering had sent him off into a rabbit hole and–
Well. Anyway.
He could budget his time. That was a thing. He knew it was a thing. He’d set aside one hour, maybe two, specifically for space things, and he’d fill up the rest of the time with all the other stuff he had to do. School. Homework. His friends. Patrol. Other random ghost fights. How best to protect the town. His chores. Helping old Mrs. Odell on the corner with her trash. He could do that, and then he wouldn’t get distracted. He had the willpower. He could do it. He would do it.
It didn’t work very well the first couple of weeks. Maybe he wasn’t always thinking about astronomy, but he was always thinking about when he was allowed to think about astronomy, his internal dialogue was a constant stream of how much longer how much longer how much longer. But he didn’t give in. It was too important. He had to think of the people who could be in danger if he couldn’t focus.
That made it easier. Thinking about how his actions could hurt or help others. If he put it into those terms, into terms of protecting, of helping, he wasn’t as tempted to run off to the nearest planetarium and live there, only going out at night. Lots of things could be put into those terms. If he got good grades, that made his parents, Jazz, and Mr. Lancer happy, and that was helping. If he went to bed and got up on time, his mom didn’t have to jostle him awake in the morning, and that was helping. Planning out his, Sam’s, and Tucker’s patrol routes in detail kept them safe, and that was protecting. Paying careful attention to his surroundings let him react to them faster, and that was protecting.
One month into his new way of thinking about things, and it was much easier.
He did have more time budgeted to astronomy than when he’d started. He needed it, almost physically. He wanted to do something space related when he grew up, even if he couldn’t be an astronaut, so, if he tried to always get an astronomy-related topic on essays for school, so what? It would still get done. And if he still went for the constellation items in Doomed, well, it was a game, and it didn’t hurt anything.
There were still things outside the neat little paradigm he’d built for himself, and he still had trouble holding on to those things, focusing on those things. Things like… like… Well. He couldn’t think of any. They tended to slip out of his head. They couldn’t be that important, though. He was pretty sure he had covered all the important things.
He didn’t have an obsession. He had it under control.
At least, that’s what he thought until Jazz saw his notes, just after he’d finally realized that she knew. Until she saw all the ways he’d organized his thinking until everything tied back to those important things. He hadn’t meant to leave it out, but it was just on his desk, it was where it was supposed to be, didn’t make things cluttered enough to rise to the level of a chore, of needing to clean up to make mom and Jazz happy.
“Danny,” said Jazz, obviously concerned. “This is… Is this really… Don’t you think this is a little… obsessive? Thinking like this?”
“I’m not,” said Danny, knowing how weak that must sound as an argument. “I know I– Look, I know ghosts have obsessions. And I know I sort of have one. Had one. With, you know, astronomy. But I don’t think about it all the time. I’m not like the Box Ghost. I figured out a way to get around it. To think about different things.”
“That’s… great,” said Jazz. “But I wasn’t talking about the astronomy. Or, well, I was, but not only the astronomy.” She held up his notebook. “I was talking about all of this.”
“Oh,” said Danny, very quietly.
“I think you should see someone about this. Because… Because this is a lot, Danny.”
“Who?”
“What?”
“Who could I see?” asked Danny, twisting his fingers in the hem of his shirt. “Safely, who could I see about this?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Jazz, softly.
Danny freed one of his hands to rub at his eyes. “That’s okay. Really.” He smiled at her. “I have it under control.”
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5. Hunt
Ectober 2023
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Ectober 2023
Ngl, art block hit hard this year at the worst time possible and I only got 6 done. BUT I like what i did do and I'll try again next year. And it was fun to see everyone else's work too!
Individual pictures and their prompts under cut:
Day 4: Zombies
Day 25: Will-o-wisps
Day 26: Students start to go missing. At the same time, the Guys in White go quiet.
Day 27: Blood blossoms weren’t named for their blood red color. They were named for the liquid they fed on.
Day 28: It’s not an obsession if he can keep it under control, right?
Day 5: Masquerade
#ectober#ectoberweek 2023#event#dp#danny phantom#my art#tw blood#wait am i starting to actually develop a style???
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Ectober Day 3 - Black Cat 🐈⬛
Danny found a ghostly feline friend. Also playing around with a casual outfit and glowing scars.
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[Image ID: an artwork depicting Danny in a mostly-human form dancing a waltz of some kind with Jason Todd. Danny’s back is towards the camera, making Jason’s closed-eye smile the only expression visible. Both are in suits, Jason in a red suit jacket with a long coattail and a red undershirt, and Danny is in a dark blue suit jacket with two coattails that have four painted stars dangling at the ends. The left star has a green gem and the right, a blue gem. Danny has white boots and also has a large white streak in his hair. Both are in black slacks. Jason has a red domino mask on, and from this angle Danny’s mask isn’t visible.
They are dancing in the dark, a golden-coloured spotlight overhead, and the floor tiles are gold. /End ID]
Day 29: Masquerade
Apparently i have an inability to escape the dpxdc for longer than a few days. Also, this is somewhat of a continuation of this post, so it’s a bonus challenge submission as well.
#randomartmaker art#dpxdc#dcxdp#danny phantom#jason todd#red hood#my art#digital art#ectober#ectoberweek2023#dead on main#i think that’s the ship name#i hope it is
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Ectober 6
Tabletop
#danny phantom#danny fenton#sam manson#tucker foley#fanart#art#Ectoberhaunt23#ectober#tabletop#teraforming mars
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