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wastefulreverie · 6 months

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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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tofuingho · 1 year

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Tim/Danny, Soulmates-that-share-dreams AU

Even as children, their shared dreams were a bit spotty, but the older they got the fewer dreams they'd share.

At first, it was Tim's insomnia that was causing problems. Then Tim started following around Batman and Robin. Then came training and being Robin.

Even before Danny's accident, they'd only had a few shared hours a few times a week. After his accident, it suddenly turned into a few hours once or twice a month.

Then came Red Robin and a CEO job.

One day, Tim realizes he hasn't had a shared dream in months. Not even a few minutes together.

What's happened to Danny?

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #batman #danny fenton #tim drake #surprisingly not angst #it looks like it should be angst #tim doesn't acknowledge that he only sleeps once or twice a week #and he more passes out from exhaustion #so no dreaming #danny doesn't notice #he's off doing stuff #maybe king of the infinite realms #maybe just university student #he's just busy doing his thing #he's also not sleeping a lot these days

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chasingrabbits-art · 1 year

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Crossover Danuary week Day 4: free day (Tomcat disposables by Will Wood)

Will I ever get over Will Wood? Probably not.

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little-pondhead · 1 year

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“Hey, Danny.” Sam twisted her upper body as much as she could from the trio’s puppy pile on the floor. It was mid-afternoon on a Saturday, and the trio had nothing to do except comb through old occult books and internet records for more information on the supernatural. Danny was on the bottom of the pile, laying on his stomach with both a laptop and a old red journal splayed out in front of him. Sam and Tucker were piled on top of him with their own reading materials.

Sam couldn’t see his face, but she wasn’t all surprised when Danny solved this issue by simply turning his head around all the way like an owl to look back at her. Perks of being dead. He blinked. “Yeah?”

“You know how your parents have that working theory on ghosts and obsessions?” Sam asked. Tucker peeked over the edge of the laptop, interested.

Danny nodded slowly, which was odd to see when his head was backwards.

She continued, “Well we already know that some of that is true-ghosts do have obsessions but it’s not the sole reason of their existence. Right?”

“Right.”

“So would it make sense for halfas to have an obsession?”

Danny opened his mouth, then closed it as a thought occurred to him. They all thought on it for a moment.

Tucker clicked his laptop a few times. Probably pulling up their old ‘case’ files and notes for reference. “I don’t see why they wouldn’t, but maybe it’s more subdued than a full ghost’s due to their half human nature?”

“That’s a good theory.” Sam agreed. “But what if halfas are the only one with a true obsession-something that would cause them to come back to life because of it?”

“But that defeats the purpose of the ectoplasm research.” Tucker argued. “Danny was exposed to two different elements during the accident. The thing that killed him and the thing that brought him back to life. That’s what caused the halfa evolution. Besides, if a true obsession alone managed to bring someone back to life, there’s be a lot more halfas in the world.”

Sam set down her heavy occult book, dog-earring the page. (Ghost Writer won’t like that.) “Well what about Vlad?” She countered. “That fruit loop obviously has some sort of obsession going on-maybe even more that one!”

“Guys.” Danny interrupted. “I think you’re both right and wrong.” His face was still thoughtful, staring up at the ceiling that held little paper bats on string. Which, again, was a bit unsettling since his head was still turned around. “I think I do have an obsession, maybe even more than one. But it’s not because I’m part ghost.”

“Then what’s if from?” Tucker exclaimed. “What did we miss??”

Danny gave them a tiny, fanged smirk. “You forget, I have ADHD.”

#danny phantom #danny fenton #tucker foley #sam manson #everlasting trio #adhd #hyperfixation anyone??#my eyes are blurry #but this concept is really funny to me #Danny and co try to figure out both his and Vlad’s ghost obsessions #but they’re both so mentally ill they will obsess over how Toast is made #so they can’t separate the ghost obsession from the rest #not knowing how to feed their obsession could lead to an angst route #or just turn it into a trivia game night where the two race against each other to find out what the fuck is wrong with them #before their opponent figured it out and used it against them #the trivia night turns into a therapy session by week three

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phantomskeep · 1 year

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I have an important question for DCxDP fans...

(This is for research purposes in a fic I'm writing. I need to decide but I can't LMFAO). Please no batfam members because I'm making Danny be in love with a batboy and that's just f u n k y

#danny phantom #dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #this fandom has too many tags #jazz fenton #jazz fenton love interest #please help #i want her to find love so i can give danny angst #itll be so worth it #i promise #jazz fenton x ???#dun dun DUUUHHH #who will win??#find out in a week's time!!

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charcoalhawk · 2 months

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Don’t listen to a word I say, the screams all sound the same

Wulf lives his life in missed moments, and then, he doesn’t live in any moment at all.

Content warning: death, murder

Title is from Little talks by Of Monsters and Men

Wulf knows he had a real name, once. Even mean people like the butcher who always overcharged mama had a name, but Wulf can’t remember his anymore.

But mama had always called him her little wulf, and during their special nights every month when they all moved on all fours and howled at the moon, he sometimes wished he could always be one.

He wasn’t even two hands old when he lost mama and his siblings to That Man. He had broken into their little home in the woods and hit mama so horribly on the head that she never got up again. He and his siblings had tried to run, but two loud bangs had them collapsing from where they were running beside him.

The only reason he survived was because he did the one thing mama told him to never do. That Man had caught him as he was trying to shake his sister Rosè awake, yelling horrible words as he shook Wulf. And in that moment Wulf had been so overcome with rage he disobeyed the most important rule.

He’d managed to twist and sink his tiny teeth into That Man’s arm, biting down as hard as he could.

That Man had screamed and hit Wulf, but it must not have been too hard because he woke up just as the sun was setting.

That Man’s body was lying a few feet away, face frozen in a horrible scream and body stiffer than frozen wood.

He had left That Man there to rot for what he had done, then very carefully carried his siblings back to their house.

It took him three whole days to dig a hole big enough for his family, but when he finally finished it he carefully brought them all down and arranged them like he cuddles piles they would have after every full moon.

After filling the hole he searched the whole forest until he found the three perfect rocks. And carefully rolled them to lie over where his family was buried.

For a long time no one else comes to their house. Wulf keeps it as clean as he can in honor of his mama, and the forest provides enough so he doesn’t starve.

No one from town ever comes out to look for him or even for his mama, something that both makes Wulf’s heart ache yet he’s immensely grateful for.

The seasons shift and Wulf grows and settles into his quiet life. The most he ever sees of other people is when the leaves shift and deer run aplenty. Then he’ll catch the occasional howl of hunting dogs or the bang that always brings back horrible memories.

Those are the few months he dreads the full moon, because the forest is never quiet, and he fears catching any kind of unwanted attention.

But all good things must come to an end. It's a warm spring night, with the full moon round and heavy overhead, when Wulf hears a cry shatter the calm of the night and sends birds fleeing into the sky in droves.

Although he knows nothing good will come of it, his curiosity drives him to find the source of that horrid sound. As he draws closer the cloying scent of blood begins to overwhelm all other senses.

He ends up finding them in a clearing. A young boy is hunched over a crumpled figure, as blood slowly covers the forest floor around them.

Wulf pokes his head out of the foliage, trying to get a better look. A gleam of metal directs him to the weapon lying next to the two, as a picture starts to form in Wulf’s mind.

In this form he can’t speak, but maybe he can get the boy to follow him and he can bring the older man over his back. He thinks he remembers the path to town, mama made sure he remembered where deer-tree was, because it meant you were getting too close to town on your own.

Plan made, Wulf huffs loudly to alert the boy so as not to surprise him. It works almost too well, and the boy yelps when he locks eyes with Wulf.

“Oh- oh please don’t eat me señor wolf, an-and you can’t have my dad either!”

Wulf shakes his head at that, why would he ever eat a skinny human when there’s so many deer around.

“Oh! Uh, you, you understand me?”

Wulf nods his head rapidly, then makes a point to gesture at the downed man then at his side.

“You’ll help? Oh thank you thank you!”

With the boy now understanding that Wulf means him no harm he moves more confidently into the clearing, the moon illuminating his midnight fur. Maybe after this he can invite the boy and who he assumes is the boy’s father to his home. Maybe he could even go back into the village and start getting the good meat from the butcher and he wouldn’t get overcharged and-

BANG

It takes a second for the pain to hit, but then Wulf collapses where he stood, a burning line of fire shooting though his entire body, radiating from his side.

“Glad I- I always keep a silver spare.”

It’s the older man, barely sitting up, clutching that weapon like a lifeline.

“But dad! He- he was just trying to help! Why did you shoot him!”

The boy is by his side, pressing an already bloody hand into the wound.

“It’s a monster, son. And you would do well to remember that. Now, help me up, we need to go report this to the bishop.”

“But if we don't help him he’s gonna die!”

“Bah. It’s better than it deserves. Now help me up now or so help me god you can go join it!”

The boy rests one last hand on Wulf’s injured side, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll come back, I’ll bring bandages and I’ll-!”

The bigger man rips the boy away, crushing grip tight against the boy’s slight frame. He shoves the boy ahead, away from Wulf.

Wulf whines and pants as the minutes drift by. The wound had slowly ebbed from a burning inferno into shooting pain with each breath. He can feel the moon begin to set around him, taking away its cool light and leaving Wulf cold and empty.

As the sun begins to rise Wulf swears he can feel other breaths around him, a rough tongue working out the knots in his fur. It reminds him of peaceful nights with his family, and as the sun rises, Wulf’s breaths slow.

With his eyes closed, it feels like his family is still curled around him.

#dp side hoes week 2024 #Wulf #danny phantom #injury’s #death #yay haha funny event #now let’s bring in the angst

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rgbyshipper101 · 1 month

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I got one more in me! Little thing I wrote in an hour.

DP Side Hoes Week 2024

Dani Phantom

Self-Defense

Warning: angst and mentions of character death

Danielle stared at the moon over the hill she stood on. A gentle breeze blew through her ragged clothes, offering some relief from the humidity. June was quite warm and it being nighttime didn’t stop that. The rickety sign of Amity Park’s graveyard creaked ominously as it was disturbed, the only sound made since she touched the grass in front of the tree she was facing.

Dani had regrets in her short life. Like the fact that she had to steal food so she could eat. She was too young for a job. Not that she’d want one, anyway. She hated how she had to manipulate people’s kindness in a way so it’d benefited her. It reminded her of how she was when living with Vlad.

Dani grimaced. The name of that man left a bitter taste in her mouth.

There was a time she used to regret not being a better daughter. Not finishing duties on time or failing her training got on his nerves and upset her greatly. The day she got to say she progressed to that point took a while to come to fruition as a result.

But her biggest regret was that she had to help kill her brothers.

Yes, kill. She knew what she was doing. Danny didn’t realize until their showdown in Vlad’s cabin. Her brothers willingly attacked them on “Master’s” orders, but they were mindless. They didn’t understand.

Not like her. Dani never forgot their final expressions as they melted. She helped Danny with her muscular brother and invisibly watched as he took down her skeletal brother. Her tiny brother was so horrified as he melted. And he just got turned into an actual copy of Danny, too…

And her little brother. The one not even out of his chamber had to be forcefully smacked into reality and immediately died as a result.

Danny assured her that that was not her fault, that it was his, but it still happened. Even if that death was caused by self-defense, it doesn't feel that way.

The tree’s branches swayed lightly as another breeze hit it. The bark was peeling lightly and a piece fell on the ground in the middle four mounds. Dani bent down and gently wiped the bark away, smoothing the dirt in the process.

Dani had taken part of each of their remains and buried them here. They all have a little grave that their sister and cousin can come and remember them by. Maybe their souls will rest easier.

Dani clenched her fists as she stood up, eyes hardening. There was one thing she never regretted, though. Attacking and leaving her creator.

Not father. Creator.

He never wanted her. He never wanted any of them. They weren’t perfect. Maybe her little brother would’ve been, but she still would love him just as much as she does her other brothers.

Even if she never showed it. There was no animosity or anything with the siblings, just neutrality. They were all there just to serve a purpose. Her one actual job which made her despise working. The only kind thing she has done for the boys was make their graves. Too late for anything else.

She’s more like Vlad than she thought. And she hates it.

So when she was able to attack him at the Rockies and in his lab in Amity, she let loose and gave him everything she had.

He attacked her first, after all. It was right.

After that, she has tried to better herself to not be like him anymore. To own up to her regrets even if she has no choice in some of them. She’ll never go after anyone else unless they do first.

Dani gave one last remorseful expression at the graves before taking off, disturbing the grass again.

Tears blew behind her as she flew. Danny was wrong. She had a choice to stop what happened, to not fight, to hurt Danny and all of them. Danny didn’t. Danny had to defend himself, including from her. He’s just too nice to keep mentioning it.

Maybe one day she can make it up to them. But for now, flowers will do.

#danny phantom #dp side hoes week 2024 #danielle phantom #self-defense #clones #angst

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lapetitechatonne · 1 year

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Day Two: Mistaken Identity

day two of dp/dc week 2022!!! this one gets a bit dark too, if panic attacks trigger you i’d suggest skipping. as always, the ao3 tags are there for a reason! anyways, i cried while writing this one so. good luck.

ao3 link!

Kate’s Masterlist here!

in the dark all shadows look the same - 2.5k words

It was actually a nice night, Danny thought as he looked out over the Gotham City skyline. You still couldn’t see the stars, but the breeze was warm and the fog had lifted for the night. The full moon lit up the sky over the inky water of the bay as it crashed against the rocky shore.

In a different time and place, he could see himself staying in a place like this. Full of life—full of ectoplasm—and with someone else to watch over its people. Somewhere his obsession would quiet to a dull thud in the back of his head because there was someone else taking care of the criminals and terrorists. Maybe he would help the odd old lady cross the street or give a homeless kid a hot meal, but he wouldn't have to protect.

He tightened the wrap around his thigh, just trying to get the bleeding to stop knowing that in this life, he’d probably never know anything close to peace.

Rude.

“Danny,” a quiet whisper barely carried over the noisy streets.

He turned to Danielle who was sitting up against the brick wall behind her. She was doubled over in pain holding her abdomen, her blue eyes glassy and distant.

He tied off the wrap and slid back next to her, pulling her into him. He hissed as the tender bruises on his back came in contact with the jagged brick, but luckily Danielle didn’t notice. Hopefully, he could convince her into sleeping at least for a few hours before they had to move on.

They were sitting ducks up here, he knew that the church under them would confuse anything Vlad was using to follow them, but it wouldn’t last for long—he would've gone of a hospital or graveyard but it'd be too obvious.

At least they grabbed enough supplies that they didn’t have to worry about stealing from a hospital. Danny hated hospitals—the worst kind of liminal spaces in his opinion—but that didn’t mean he wanted to rob one. He knew how precious life was.

Danielle whimpered, leaning her weight onto Danny’s shoulder. She was warm, warmer than even a human should be, which wasn’t a good sign.

Danny felt the dull, ever-present panic in his ribs grow. His chest tightened and he fought back the tears trying to build up, he couldn’t do this right now. He couldn’t.

He tried to count his breaths like Jazz taught him to.

In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three four. Out, two, three, four.

His lungs hurt. So did his ribs and his legs and his back—and everything.

In, two, three, four.

He squeezed his eyes shut trying to block out the light.

Hold, two, three, four.

He just wanted to go home.

Out, two, three, four.

He just wanted to be safe.

He lost focus on his breathing as he choked over a shallow sod. His head started to spin like he was freefalling through air without anything there to catch him. His limbs tingled and suddenly he was very aware of how weak he was.

He was too weak. Too weak to tell his parents the truth, too weak to protect Danielle, too weak to fight Vlad—

Too weak too weak too weak too weak too weak—

He gasped as he felt Danielle tighten her hold on him. Her tiny hands held him with an iron clad grip.

He pulled her closer, winding his arms around her until he was clutching her like a child with a teddy bear. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest against him. Could feel her body heat against his cold. Could hear the rhythmic beating of her heart.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

He breathed in time with her heartbeat. She was here. She was alive. He would keep her safe.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The breeze chilled the tear tracks running down his cheeks. He was alive. He would be okay.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

They both would. He didn’t know how, but he had to believe that. He had to.

“I love you,” Danny felt more than heard Danielle as she muttered into his chest.

A new wave of tears pushed against his sinuses, pressure building behind his eyes.

“I love you too.” His words were garbled and broken, but Danielle seemed to understand because she just held him tighter.

He felt bad that she was comforting him—after all, how many nightmares and knee scrapes did Jazz get him through, he should be able to handle this just like she did—but she was a grounding presence in a turning world. He wasn’t sure he knew up from down right now, all he knew was he wasn’t enough.

He wasn’t strong enough. Quick enough. Brave enough,

He wasn’t. He wasn’t, he wasn’t he wasn’t hewasn’thewasn’thewasn’t—

His heart stuttered as he felt himself spiraling like an invisible hand reached deep into his chest and twisted his heart until it was upside down. His stomach pulled taught until his insides threatened to tear, bile biting at his throat.

He didn’t know how much longer he could do this.

“Danny!” He felt more than heard her panic, her hands digging into his tender skin.

Focus. He had to focus.

He fought through his cloudy vision, looking down at Danielle. Her eyes were wide with fear, focused on a singular point over his shoulder. Danny twisted around to follow her gaze, it wasn’t like her to get—

Oh no. No, no, no, nonononononono—

The moonlight lit up a dark silhouette, with two distinct points at the top.

Vlad found them. He found them.

He couldn’t breathe. Every hair on his body stood up and he scrambled to push Danielle behind him. The ectoplasm in his chest jumped to life, mixing with the sudden rush of adrenaline.

But he was still too weak from their last fight to properly fight. Danielle was barely keeping her body together—the best he could hope for was letting her get away, get help.

Get someone who could be enough.

“Danny,” she gripped his arm and back, voice cracking over desperate sobs, “what do we do?”

Danny let the green fill his eyes, he couldn’t transform but he could try and look as menacing as possible.

The figure moved closer and Danny scrambled back. As much as he wanted to fight, every inch of his body was begging him to flee, to run away and never look back. But he couldn’t leave Danielle. And he was too weak to hide the both of them.

Never enough, always too weak. Can’t do anything right, can’t protect anyone. What a waste of an afterlife.

His vision blurred at the edges, green light reflecting in the tears running down his face. He would protect her. He had to protect her. Even if it killed him.

“When I tell you to,” he whispered, his voice catching on almost every syllable, “run. Just run.”

She sobbed, holding his hoodie tighter, “No, I won’t leave you. I won’t—you can’t ask me to—”

“Promise me, Danielle,” he continued to inch backward as the shadow moved slowly stalking them, “Please. Just—please.” He needed her to be safe. Then he could die here in peace, knowing that the last few moments of his life were spent doing something good.

That he wasn’t a complete waste of life.

“I won’t leave you,” she said because a the end of the day she was too much like him, “not now, not ever. Please don’t ask me to.”

Danny felt his heart drop. So that was that. They would both die here.

That didn’t mean Danny was going to make it easy for the bastard. He would go down bleeding and biting because he wouldn’t die quietly.

He would die like a Fenton. Yelling and cursing and punching until he faded from existence. He hoped his parents would be proud. Jazz would be proud.

The shadow disappeared, leaping into the air and landing in a big black mass before them, still obscured by the darkness. His heart pounded in his chest as he dig his feet into the concrete beneath him. He pushed down the bile and the tears and the worries.

He raised his fist staring defiantly into the black void.

“You can’t have her. You can’t have either of us,” his voice was shaky but his conviction never wavered.

He let his fists glow green, pulling on the ectoplasm deep inside of him. This fight would take every ounce of power he had—and then more.

So he pushed every bit of his being into his glowing hands and shot at the figure. It was weak—just like him—but he couldn’t focus on that. Not now. Not when everything hinged on him pressing on.

He fired again. And again. And again.

Each bolt was weaker than the last, and the figure moved so quickly that Danny couldn’t even be sure he was hitting it. But he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t waiver.

His head was spinning, high-pitched ringing echoing in his ears, but he fired anyways. He tried to focus his vision but it kept going in and out like a bad radio frequency. The shadows morphed together and he couldn’t tell if it was because they were moving or because his vision was going black.

He took a deep breath but it wasn’t enough. It was like someone sucked all the oxygen out of his body, leaving him heavy and tingly all over.

Another bolt and his knees gave out underneath him. He crumbled to the ground, trying to hold himself up on all fours but his arms were too tired. They buckled, leaving him panting on the cold concrete, just trying to salvage enough energy to stay awake.

“Danny!" Danielle shouted, but it was echoey. Distant. Like she was a million miles away.

He twisted on the ground, trying to push himself up only to fall over again. In his shaky vision, he could see Danielle standing in front of him, her arms out. Protecting him.

Like he was supposed to be protecting her.

No, no no no no nonono.

She should be running away. She should leave him there, save herself—but he knew she never would.

They were too much alike. Now he would get the both of them killed.

He reached out to her, too weak to form words. But she stood in front of him, as stubborn as only a Fenton could be.

He didn’t want it to end like this. Not when there was so much for her to live for—for him to live for.

He’d never graduate. Never move in with Sam and Tucker like they promised, never see Jazz graduate Harvard, never take a road trip with Danielle. There was so much he’d never do. He’d never see.

His heart ached as he realized how much he wanted to live. How much he wanted both of them to live.

His eyes fluttered shut, unable to keep them open as he prayed to anyone—anything—that would listen.

He just wanted to live.

That was his last thought as the world around him was consumed by darkness.

Danielle had lived long enough to see the true evils of the world. Her father trying to kill her, the homelessness, the poverty, the hurt that thrived in every place that she visited.

But she’d also seen hope. She watched broken people heal, watched the poor lift each other up, seen the kindness that lived in the hearts of people. She’d seen enough to know she wanted to see more. To be someone’s light when they needed it most.

She stood in front of Danny, protecting him with her body, and even though she knew he’d never forgive himself she had to do this. The world needed him. It needed a hero like him.

Not some abomination like her.

“Leave him alone!” she yelled into the shadows. She didn’t have any real power, but maybe Vlad would accept her in his place. Maybe she could convince him that Danny was too valuable to die, that he should just kill her instead.

It was what he wanted after all. Without Danny in the way maybe—just maybe—he would be safe.

“Just—just take me,” she stumbled over sobs, trying to seem as courageous as she could—but she wasn't very good at that— “I’m the one you want. Kill me. Just me.” She whispered the last part, but she knew he would hear.

The large mass moved towards them, and she knew this was it.

She sobbed openly—because she wasn’t as fearless as Danny, she couldn’t face down death like he could. She closed her eyes, arms still out wide waiting for the inevitable. She just prayed he’d only take her. That his obsession with Maddie and Danny was enough to spare him.

The figure blocked out the little bit of light Danielle could see through her closed eyes. He was right in front of her.

She whimpered and all she wanted was to pull into herself. But she stood strong. Like Danny would. Like he had done for her. She hated that it was such a waste of effort, all those times he saved her from the brink. Maybe it would have been easier for all of them if he just let her die the first time.

But that wasn’t who Danny was. And she loved him for that. She loved him so much.

She hoped he knew that. Because she’d never get to tell him again.

But she could do this for him.

She flinched as a hand touched her shoulder. She expected it to grasp her tightly and pull her away from Danny. Maybe it would be filled with unbearable electricity or scalding flames.

But it didn’t do any of that. It just sat gently on her shoulder, like it was trying to reassure her. Trying to calm her.

But that didn’t make sense. Vlad’s touches, even his kind ones, were never gentle.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the voice was unnaturally deep, but there was a softness around the edges.

It could be a trick. A sick and twisted way to make her feel safe before ripping out her heart.

She took a deep breath, still trembling, and dared to open her eyes.

Through the darkness and the tears, it was hard to see, but the figure in front of her wasn’t ghostly at all. There was no glow, no piercing red eyes, only white slits where the eyes should be.

It was a mask. A cape. A costume.

It was Batman.

She actually laughed, watery and broken, seeing his face. Or mask. Or whatever.

It wasn’t Vlad. It wasn’t Vlad. They were okay. They were safe.

At least for the moment.

“I thought. We thought—” she wasn’t sure what to say as she lowered her arms and whipped the tears off her cheeks.

“You thought I was someone else?”

Danielle just nodded, feeling the blood rush to her head. She was so tired and dizzy and she hurt all over.

“Why don’t we get you somewhere safe, and then you can tell me about it?” he asked, and Danielle felt her lip tremble.

Not for a moment did she think he would want to help them, would care. But here he was, crouching in front of her offering them safety.

Danielle nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

There really was kindness in the world. Even in the most unlikely places.

#angst #tw for panic attacks #danny's having a rough time #based on the idea that vlad and batman's shadows look the same #i cried while writing this #the ending line gets me every time #dp/dc week 2022 #mistaken identity #dpxdc #danny phantom #dani phantom #batman

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raaorqtpbpdy · 1 year

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By Providence

Here’s my fic for Crossover Danuary Week, day three! I haven’t seen The Secret Saturdays (I know, I know. It’s on my list), so I used the one word prompt: Scratch. DP x Generator Rex ( @amorpho )

Summary: Danny's parents found out about him, and were accepting. When they learned what caused him to become a halfa and why he came home injured so often, they dismantled their ghost portal, deciding it was too dangerous. Everything was great for a while. Danny still flinched when his parents showed him new weapons, but they were all programmed to ignore his ecto-signature now, so he had no reason to worry. That is, until the G.I.W. also discovered his identity. They captured him, doing who knows what to his family to keep them from rescuing him, and ran experiments on him, starting with simple, non-invasive ones, and slowly working their way up to exploratory dissections. After one such dissection, believing he was unconscious, they got a little lax with his containment, and he seized the opportunity to slip away. It is here that our story begins.

[Danny is transported to the Generator Rex universe, where he loses his memory, and ends up being severely injured and taken in by the Providence crew]

Rated T, trauma/medical trauma, ptsd, serious injuries, traumatic amnesia/memory loss, references to past dissection/vivisection, and descriptions of overstimulation and anxiety

#not me casually pushing my ‘dp fans should watch GenRex agenda’ what are you talking about?#crossover danuary week 2023 #fic #danny phantom #dp #generator rex #genrex #danny fenton #rex salazar #light angst #things i wrote #crossover danuary week

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lokiitama · 11 days

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Prompt Fill - Danny Phantom

Prompt: Used for Target Practice

After what probably was the longest week ever, Danny is only looking forward to one thing, and one thing only: passing out in his bed and forget about the world for as long as possible.

Of course, his luck wouldn't have it, and his parents had to catch Phantom.

Excerpt:

Danny opened his thermos with a particularly heavy sigh, and the now normal-sized rat he’d been battling squeaked as it finally was sucked into the device.

He would need to research whether growing fifteen times their size was a common phenomenon of ghostly animals biology or not. He certainly hoped not.

He clasped the thermos to his utility belt and let his feet hit the ground. Hopefully that was the last one that had escaped. The portal’s malfunction hadn’t allowed him a single second of rest this week, and his parents only had taken the time to fix it a few days ago when they finally realized the influx of ghosts wouldn’t slow down otherwise.

Read the rest of the chapter on Ao3

#danny phantom #prompt challenge #used for target practice #prompt: used for target practice #Danny Fenton #Jack Fenton #Maddie Fenton #fanfic #my writing #Danny's no good week gets worse #angst #whump

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mkzmerryfriend · 6 months

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I love seeing people still putting notes on my DP Angst Week: Corruption fic

If you've read it and are wondering, Jazz is still out there, refusing to age, searching for something she will never find :)

#and thats on angst being my favorite and most comfortable genre to write in <3 #danny phantom #jazz fenton #if you haven't read it pls feel free to search it up on ao3 #or look around the angst week tag and see if you can find it #im proud of it and it seems like a lot of people enjoyed the angst and horror too #the idea of perpetually searching for the cure to something that is by definition incurable...#the pain and sorrow of dedicating your life to a pursuit that is only ever going to leave you the same way you started...#its really great stuff im a genius lmao

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ajitated · 2 years

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(Originally posted: 4 August 2021)

Written for Going Angst Week, Day 1: Birth/Creation

Summary: His first memories are of glass and darkness. His second memories are of screaming. He doesn't know who or what he is, but he does know that the lab and the man that put them there are bad news. Sadly, it seems unlikely any of them will make it out.

#ajility writes #ajs fanworks #ajs ocs #danny phantom #moving onto blog #originally posted 4 aug 21 #going angst week #going angst week 2021 #dp ocs #oc fen #dp clone oc

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kaidatheghostdragon · 1 month

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I want to merge the trope that ghost blobs re basically party snacks with the trope that ghost blobs are special blorbos that other ghosts instinctively protect.

So i propose: symbiotic ghost blobs. When they're strong, they wander around and explore. When they're weak, their ecto changes so they're tasty to other ghosts. The other ghosts then eat them whole, and the blob settles around the ghost's core, semicorporeal, helping to filter ecto in return for taking a small portion of the ghost's strength, as well as benefitting from the stronger ghost's protection. In a few days to weeks, when they are strong enough, they phase right out and reform, off to go exploring again.

The ghost gets a boost in vitality from the blob, as the extra filter makes up for the tiny energy loss. Most ghosts can take on half a dozen blobs at a time, while more powerful ghosts like Danny could easily take dozens, cause thats how many blobs it would take to filter through the large quantities of ecto that they burn through.

Human liminals benefit from one or two blobs. Maybe its borderline required, as humans might not have the faculties to filter their own ecto, and subside entirely on the ambient ecto, which is maintained by the strongest ghost in the area (whoever owns the haunt).

Basically, eating blobs every few days to top off the ones that left is basically equivalent to taking probiotics to help digestion.

So we have Amity Park, maintained by Danny and his small army of blobs that he's constantly rotating though, and Gotham, maintained by Lady Gotham who is overloaded on too many curses to properly filter the city, no matter how many blobs she collects.

Jason is a sick halfa because corrupted ecto, yadda yadda. Only its not "dumped in the lazarus pits and never got filtered," but "gotham is literally so toxic that all of his power goes to filtering and it still doesnt make a dent, so he presents as powerless and possibly hangry." He may or may not know that he's passively absorbing blobs to help filter, or maybe Lady Gotham hoards them all so he has no concept of symbiotic blob relationships.

Or even better, blob ghosts are what the LoA call pit demons. They think the amorphous red-eyed blobs are aggressive because their constantly throwing themselves at the liminal assassins' faces to try to help filter the atrotious ecto. The pits are extremely corrupt because the LoA keeps chasing away and or destroying the blobs.

For extra angst, Jason and batfam are aware of the pit demons and have no reason to believe that the LoA's interpretation is incorrect.

So everyone is suitably horrified when a visiting Phantom brings a legion of blobs (a typical "I come in peace" gift for Lady Gotham), casually snacking on a few of them. Even more so when he offers a few to the batfam, like one would a piece of candy.

#dpxdc #dp x dc

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starwrighter · 1 year

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surprise! I'm alive :D

Chucking out one of my prompts anyone can take this.

Prompt starts with the whole idea that everyone believes that ghost are malevolent, non sentient beings that aren't capable of feeling pain. Amity parkers believe that, the Fenton's and the GIW "proved" that and the ghosts that escape the portal have caused so much mindless damage that it just further cements the idea that ghosts aren't sentient.

But during one of Phantom's ghost fights The Fenton parents realize Phantom is a bit different than the ghosts he fights. They finally decide to observe Phantom more carefully after this (they're still shooting at him just watching him a bit first)

During this observation period they notice it's not just phantom's rapid power growth that's different about him. It's everything he does! He's proven to be more intelligent than the other ghosts, having managed to steal and operate Fenton tech despite the fact he doesn't appear to have powers like technus.

He has body language?! Subtle body language that isn't destructive or angry! He fidgets when he's nervous, smiles and is more talkative and expressive when he's excited or happy. He shows emotion more humanly than any of the other ghosts showing emotion that wouldn't benefit him in the moment. Now the Fenton's wanted to brush this off as clear ghost manipulation at it's finest but in the most recent ghost attack gave a preposterous theory a leg to stand on.

They had been shouting their usual threat's of tearing the ecto scum apart molocule by molecule. Most of the ghost ignored them, fixated on the destruction they were causing but Phantom hesitated, the GAV cameras catching a look on Phantom's face that would be game changing.

Fear.

Genuine fear. It was not the robotic mimicry of human emotion they were used to. The emotion they got was that of a being that fully understood what was going to happen to it and had the capability to be afraid.

They compile all the footage of past ghost fights and ghost sightings and come to the horrifying conclusion that phantom is a sentient ghost who could feel pain.

They're horrified that they've been hurting this little boy (because that's what phantom is) who's just trying to help and didn't understand why the other ghosts lacked the empathy he had. As for Phantom's crimes they finally had a reason for them. He's a scared child , loney and confused with everyone around him trying to hurt him even though he was trying to protect people; of course he would act out!

The Fenton's show their undeniable proof to the GIW and within a week a law is passed stating that phantom is the only sentient ghost and it's illegal to harm him.

Danny is very confused to say the least, especially when everyone starts treating him like a little kid (Danny either looks young for his age or the accident happened earlier whatever causes more angst) The worst part is they don't believe him when he tells them some other ghosts are sentient no matter what he says! They just give him this sad look and nod or try to comfort him by telling him he wasn't evil like the other ghosts. The other ghosts like the thought of being able to get away with crimes without being charged so they don't even try to prove their sentience if anything they try to disprove theirs and prove Danny's.

Bonus Dp x Dc crossover:

The justice league is called about Phantom's situation Amity Parker's demanding that phantom be taken somewhere safe where he can be a regular (but spooky) child. Double points if the heroes don't believe any ghost but Phantom are sentient.

Tldr

Regular ghosts are too spooky for humans to believe they're sentient but Danny's halfa status makes him look more human and genuine (Vlad is not a true halfa you can fight me on that >:c) the other ghosts ramp up their acting skills so they can crime without consequence as "non sentient beings"

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom prompt #People start to wonder why this dead kid has beef with the mayor #Vlad tries to explain he didn't murder phantom but ends up making himself look more suspicious #Amity parkers apon realizing Phantom is sentient: That is baby!? Why is baby fighting!?!

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