#dannymay buried

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Haunted

Danny's dead. His parents will do anything to make sure no ghosts break into his resting place... and that no ghosts break out either.

masterlist

day 10: mausoleum

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dannymay2024 #dannymay 2024 #day 10 #mausoleum #dead danny au #Fenton parents find out #buried alive #or half alive

[this-is-z-art-blog]

[ID: digital drawing of Sam Manson standing in a cemetery. She is setting a stone on top of a grave for her great-grandfather, which is inscribed ‘Isaac “Izzy” Manson’, then his Hebrew name Yitzcak Ben David and a Star of David sigil, then finally ‘Inventor, Father, Friend’. There are a large number of stones on or around the base. Other gravestones visible also have Jewish symbol and small rocks. Sam is wearing scuffed black boots, a dark purple skirt, and a black shirt with purple text saying ‘Jewish til I die Forever’, as well as a Star of David choker necklace. Her expression is contemplative.]

DannyMay 2023 Day 19...2! It’s Grave Again.

It had been 21 days since I last saw Sam Manson drawn with a cross. How do I put this: folks, do not draw a Jewish person buried under a cross

#sam manson #Danny Phantom #Jewish Characters #Dannymay2023 #dp fanart #image description #digital art #zero days project #2023

[little-pondhead]

Day 6: Eclipse

DANNYMAY MASTERLIST

...

"Dude, you psyched about the eclipse?" Tucker whispered to Danny, who was practically floating with excitement.

"Maybe just a little." He admitted, shaking out his hands like that would get rid of his nerves. "It's the first eclipse I've seen since The Accident, I can't help but be jittery."

"If we're lucky, no ghosts will come to make a fuss about it." Sam, who was walking on the other side of Tucker, glared at a passing A-Lister that nearly stepped on her boots.

"Don't jinx it!" Danny hissed, flapping his hands harder.

"It'll be fine, Danny," Tucker reassured. "And besides, we haven't seen a drop of ectoplasm all day. It's not that unusual."

Danny deflated like a balloon, letting his two friends drag him along behind their science class. "You're right." He pouted. "But if there is an attack I'm blaming you two."

"Fair enough."

The trio settled into a flow of comfortable bickering and jabs until their teacher called for attention. "Make sure you wear these special sunglasses!" They called out, having the class rep pass them out. "They'll help protect your eyes, just in case. We don't want anyone to go blind, do we?"

Danny chuckled. "Not like that would hurt me anymore." Sam punched his arm for that.

The trio received their paper sunglasses, awkwardly adjusting them to fit their faces, and patiently waited for the totality of the eclipse to occur.

"This is my favorite part!" Danny grinned, pointing to the sky like he was watching a movie.

Sam just squinted up and then removed her glasses for a better look when she could no longer see the sun. "Danny-" She cut herself off when she turned back to her friend. Sam elbowed Tucker, who had also taken his sunglasses off.

"What the fuck?" Tucker whispered in awe and panic.

Danny was off in his own world now, gazing at the solar eclipse like it was the most beautiful thing in existence. He hadn't noticed his...change.

And holy fuck did he look different than he did thirty seconds ago.

Even without going ghost, Danny's hair had turned shock white and stood on end, swaying in a gentle breeze. His regular hazmat suit was nearly gone, burnt off or sticking to Danny's sickly pale skin. And his scars.....Sam wanted to cry. She knew what those scars were. Danny's death scars traveled up and down his body, literally glowing from within and making him stand out more. Parts of his skin were burnt and peeling, making the smell of human flesh a strong one. And his face...Danny had lost his right eye, an empty socket that glowed green was his only proof of its existence. Part of his jawbones were exposed, showing off this black skeleton underneath white skin.

This was their friend. Sam realized. They would have had to bury him like this if Danny hadn't survived that portal accident.

Danny sighed wistfully. As the eclipse ended, the sun started peeking back out from behind the moon. The two rushed to put on their glasses once more, and when they blinked, Danny was back to normal. "That was lovely," Danny stated, then turned around to the pair. "What happened to you two? It looks like you've seen a ghost."

"...Now I think I know why we haven't seen any ghosts today." Tucker mumbled to Sam, to which she (surprisingly) agreed.

...

#danny phantom #pondhead writes #dannymay2023 #tw slight body horror

[ghostly-penumbra]

DannyMay 2023. Day Sixteen

"Fangs"

Ao3

DPxDC

- - -

Red Hood climbed down from his motorbyke with Phantom in tow; both boys were giggling meanly after tonight’s victory.

His second son took off his helmet, and showed his wide, menacing grin.

Batman did a double take then, and felt only a small pang of jealously he would bury deep down and deny ever having. Ever.

“Nigma’s gonna think twice next time he prepares one of his shitty escape rooms of death.” Jason said, and there was almost a physical bite to his words with the way his lips curled and showed his sharp, pointed fangs, to match Danny’s own.

#Danny Phantom #DannyMay 2023 #DannyMay2023 #dannymay #DPxDC #Danny Phantom Crossover #Jason Peter Todd #Red Hood #Halfa Jason Todd #ghostly-scrypts #Danny Fenton #Bruce Wayne #Batman #day sixteen #fangs #drabble

[canofspooks]

DannyMay Day 30 (Post-Reveal)

Summary: Phantom reveal goes wrong, and now Danny has to deal with the aftermath.

Words: 1057

Danny flicked the lighter once. Twice. By the third time, he felt like an idiot for not knowing how to use a lighter. Finally, after what felt like the hundredth time trying to get it to work, a small flame sparked to life. He held the flame close to the bowl of sage until it started burning, and leaned over the smoke so that it could reach his aching fangs.

He coughed a few times as he accidentally inhaled some. Numbing the pain from his fangs was a skill, and one he'd hopefully not have to master before the growing pains settled on their own. If this was a beaver situation where the teeth never stopped growing, he'd sooner pull them out than deal with this for the rest of his life.

The thing about sage that nobody told him - granted, nobody told him anything, really - was how much it numbed everything. His throat, his face, his hands - everything that touched the smoke was coated in an uncomfortable feeling of pins and needles. Uncomfortable, but still far better than painful. One of his ears suddenly felt like they were underwater, and he snapped a few times next to it just to confirm. Oh, lovely, the smoke had completely dull his sense of hearing, as well. Danny resigned himself to spending the next several hours completely out of it, and poured water into the bowl to douse the small flames.

With that done, he looked up from his work, and found his bedroom door open. And standing there, mouth agape, was the hulking form of Jack Fenton.

With only one ear working and half of his body feeling like he was covered in pins, it was the best Danny could do to stumble backwards. Every motion was like swimming through sand. His father shouted something to his mother in the other room. Danny replied - his mouth didn't feel like it was moving. He dropped the ghost form, tried explaining to his parents that it was him. It was Danny, their boy, not some ghostly imitation.

His father's expression only worsened, shock turning to hate as the man aimed a weapon at his own son. The shapes were getting even fuzzier now. His actions less his own.

Then Danny woke up in a room that wasn't his. Jolted up, more like. His heart raced. His skin was clammy and covered in sweat. Danny gripped the sheets and curled in on himself, burying his face in his knees.

It was just a nightmare. He wasn't really being shot at by his own parents.

No, because it had already happened. And now he was living in a different kind of nightmare. The one where the only person he could turn to was the very person he'd once considered an enemy. A part of him wished there hadn't been anyone to take him in, that Vlad had turned him away at the door. But Vlad wasn't a supernatural embodiment of evil who subsisted only on the misery of others, much as Danny might like to think it. He was a guy. A nutty, older guy who when push came to shove, abandoned all the theatrics the minute Danny showed up at his door covered in burns and blood.

Danny didn't deserve his help. He deserved to wander the Ghost Zone until he was nothing but Phantom, or until some actual embodiment of evil decided to put him out of his misery. Maybe more the latter than the former, because he was getting tired of being stuck as Phantom.

In the dark room, he could easily see the dull glow of his spectral form. He wondered how much longer it would last. If Phantom hadn't dissipated when he was bone-tired from the exhaustion of the fight, or the many sleepless nights that followed, who was to say he would ever go back to being Danny Fenton again? He sure didn't feel like Fenton, with the hollow ache clawing at his chest. Fenton wouldn't have even had the chance to be responsible for this mess. Fenton got killed, and replaced with a monster, just like his dad claimed. Didn't feel like Phantom, either. The charismatic hero wouldn't be knocked out of action for days on end because of something like this. Phantom had fought ghosts that were practically gods!

No, instead he was something different. Less than Phantom, worse than Fenton. He was just Danny, and Danny didn't know what to do from here.

The morning came and went as they had for the last few days. Danny stayed in bed until the guilt of leeching off his host forced him to trudge out into the kitchen at noon to at least prove to Vlad that he hadn't died just yet. Vlad insisted he try to eat a piece of toast, which he sat and picked at for what felt like hours. He could feel Vlad's gaze on him the entire time, the older man too awkward to make smalltalk, and Danny not in the mood to strike up a conversation either.

The feeling of someone else in the room was nice, at least.

Finally, after the dead silence had made even the sounds of the TV unwelcome, Vlad sat down across from Danny. The man cleared his throat.

"Jasmine is going to be here on Wednesday," he started.

Danny made a noise in the back of his throat that might've sounded like "oh" if he tried a little harder.

"I'm glad she was able to take time off from school, I think it'll be good to have her here. It's been a while since she last visited, hasn't it?"

This time, Danny put marginally more effort into responding. "Yeah."

"Hard to find the time to visit with the course load she's taking. At least she got some accommodations, given the circumstances. If not, that college would've gotten more than just strongly-worded complaints." Vlad was waiting for some reaction, Danny knew. He mustered up a half-smile, which must've come out wrong because Vlad only looked more concerned.

"I need to pick something up from the store, do you want to come with me?" Vlad offered.

Danny shook his head, continuing to pick at the toast.

"Alright, I'll be back soon." Vlad hesitated, but turned and left. Leaving Danny alone in the empty, quiet house.

#danny phantom #dannymay2023 #spooks reign of terror

[half-deadmagicperson]

DannyMay Day 18: Grave 🪦

Danny Fenton was just fourteen, when he got good at burying.

Could be Corpse AU or Full Ghost AU, whichever you prefer.

Mild warning cause there's a corpse, but nothing graphic.

Masterpost

#danny phantom #dp #dannymay2023 #dannymay #corpse au #full ghost au #danny fenton

[hannahmanderr]

DannyMay Day 2 - Backpack

Words: 2,725

Summary: In which Dash becomes strangely invested in other people's personal belongings (FFN)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It’s okay, man,” Kwan said, clapping Dash on the shoulder. “Lancer’s a nice guy! He’s had your back before.”

“Yeah, before,” Dash muttered. Before Lancer suddenly got all up in arms about student athletes’ academic performance and began cracking down on him and his buddies. 

It was all unfair, in Dash’s opinion. He was the star of the football team! He’d made the starting lineup as a freshman and led the team to their first playoff appearance in a decade. Who cared if he got a couple of lousy grades when he was 17 for 21 in completions at the last game? With no interceptions!

But no. Lancer had to play hardball with him just because he was sitting at a D- in his class. It was only October, there was still plenty of time to pull it up. And a D- was still a passing grade, right? So long as it wasn’t an F.

That hadn’t stopped Lancer from pulling him aside in class yesterday and telling him that until he could get up to at least a C in the class, he’d be prohibited from seeing any active play time. He’d gotten absolutely reamed by the coach over the whole thing at last night’s practice.

And so there he was, standing outside of Lancer’s classroom at the end of his study hall, right before his English class, trying to work up the guts to go in and ask (beg) for some sort of extra credit. They had one of the most important games of the season next week, there was no way he could miss that. Kwan had only come as moral support. And to offer his services as an English tutor, if necessary (Dash never would’ve guessed, but Kwan had a surprising knack for writing. Some of his friend’s poems and stuff weirded him out, but hey, if Kwan’s hidden talent could save his hide, he wouldn’t complain).

Dash groaned loudly and buried his face in his hands. “He’s not gonna give me anything. He’ll just tell me some teacher thing about, I don’t know, thinking about the consequences before I decided to flunk, or something.” Which wasn’t even a fair assessment. It’s not like he’d chosen to get bad grades. They just kind of… happened. He could only nag Mikey into ‘helping’ him with his homework so many times before it got suspicious.

Kwan, always the chipper one, grabbed Dash by the shoulders and steered him towards the door. “Nah, you don’t know he’ll say that!” he declared over Dash’s protests. “It’s like my mom always says: you won’t know until you try!”

“Kwan, wait-” Dash said, but it was too late. Kwan had pushed open the door and him inside. He panicked; he hadn’t worked out what to say or anything!

He was so focused on scrambling to come up with a reasonable plea that it took him longer than it should’ve to process the fact that Lancer wasn’t sitting at his desk. The teacher wasn’t in the classroom at all, actually. No one was.

“Huh,” Kwan said, echoing Dash’s thoughts. “I could’ve sworn he did lunch detentions this period.”

“He does,” Dash responded. “He gave one to Fenton for being late for, like, the billionth time yesterday. And he gave one to Dale for texting Tiffanie during class.”

Kwan stifled a laugh. “At this rate, Lancer’s gonna have the whole team benched!”

Dash didn’t find the joke funny. Partially because he didn’t appreciate the jab at his expense, but also because he’d just noticed that the classroom wasn’t completely empty.

“Hey, whose bag is that?” he asked, pointing at the ratty purple thing leaning against the leg of a desk in the second row.

The backpack had certainly seen better days; the straps were frayed, a variety of stains and dirt splotched the bag in an irregular pattern, and the canvas was completely torn in the very front pocket. It was the kind of bag Paulina would probably puke at if it got within ten feet of her.

“Umm…” Kwan hummed as he took a step closer to it. “Isn’t that Fenton’s?”

It was Dash’s turn to stifle a laugh. “Yeah, right,” he said. “Have you seen the way he’s been obsessing over his bag lately? No shot that loser just leaves without it.”

He watched as Kwan considered the argument, but he knew his point was airtight. Fenton had started keeping a death grip on his backpack out of the blue, a little more than a month ago. Other A-list members loved to guffaw over stories about how he would take the thing with him to the bathroom on his famous psychic bladder trips. Some of them thought maybe he was on to something - it was a miracle that so few personal belongings had been ruined during ghost attacks - but most of them used it as an excuse to poke more fun at him. To think Fenton would just leave his bag alone, even during a ghost attack, was dumb.

Still, Kwan looked skeptical. “I don’t know man,” he said. “Like I’m pretty sure that’s his. It’s the same color and stuff.”

An idea manifested itself so clearly in Dash’s head, he could practically feel the lightbulb going off (sue him, he liked watching old, cheesy cartoons with visual gags). He elbowed Kwan and, with a mischievous grin, said, “Only one way to find out.” He snatched the bag off the ground and hoisted it onto the desk, grabbing the zipper.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Kwan said. He caught Dash’s wrist. “We can’t just go through someone’s stuff like this! What if Lancer comes back and sees us?”

Dash scoffed. “We’ll be quick. And besides, it’s not some random kid’s stuff, it’s Fenton’s.” He quirked an eyebrow and added, “Unless you’re admitting I’m right about it not being his.”

Kwan bit his lip. “I still don’t know, man…”

“Fine then, you can stand there and be a lookout. I still wanna check. And hey, if you’re right, then maybe we can score something juicy on that loser!”

Kwan sighed, still clearly unhappy with Dash, but he didn’t stop his friend from opening up the main pocket and sifting through the bag’s contents.

Algebra book, boring. A few folders stuffed with papers, boring, although the name scrawled across the top of one of them confirmed it was, in fact, Danny Fenton’s. Disheveled notebook, boring. Leftovers from a bagged lunch, gross. A handful of crappy pens and pencils, boring. A silver tube of lipstick, just plain weird.

He was starting to think that it’d been a stupid idea after all (of course it was, why wouldn’t it be? It was loser Fenton they were talking about here) when he saw, sitting innocuously in the bottom of the backpack, Phantom’s ghost catcher.

At least that’s what he thought it was. It looked like the same green and silver thing he always used to suck up the ghosts - it was definitely scratched and dented enough to be his - but it also looked like a soup thermos. A super techy soup thermos, but a soup thermos nonetheless.

Was Phantom’s ghost catcher thingy a thermos? Dash couldn’t really remember. He’d never seen it up close.

Kwan had noticed how Dash had paused so suddenly. “What? What’s in there?” he asked, craning his neck to see.

Carefully, Dash took the thermos out of the bag. “Check this.”

Kwan’s jaw dropped. “Holy crap,” he breathed. “Is that Phantom’s? No wonder Fenton’s been watching that bag like a hawk!”

“You sure it’s actually his? Like come on, why would someone as cool as Phantom give something so important to someone as lame as Fenton?”

“I dunno,” Kwan said, shrugging. “Maybe he found it or something? After one of Phantom’s fights? Or maybe it’s actually his, it’s got his parent’s logo on it.”

Sure enough, stamped into the lid was a stylized F, recognizable by just about every resident of Amity Park. Dash frowned down at it. “Why the heck would Phantom be using one of the Fenton’s dumb inventions?”

Kwan shrugged again. “Are we even sure it’s Phantom’s?”

Dash turned his frown toward his friend. “Dude, you’re the one who said it was Phantom’s first!” At least out loud, he added mentally. “Plus look at it, it’s so beat up and stuff, it’s gotta be his! Who else have we seen using one of these things?” He thrust the thermos at Kwan, but both boys were startled when they heard something clatter against its metal sides.

“Oh my gosh,” Kwan whispered. “There’s a ghost in there right now!”

Dash smacked the back of Kwan’s head. “Idiot, ghosts are, like, squishy! They don’t sound like that!” 

He grabbed the lid, fully intending to twist it off, but Kwan’s uncharacteristic squeak made him pause. “Don’t open it!” Kwan screeched. 

“Quit being such a wuss,” Dash said, twisting the lid again. It popped off easily and, when no ghost came flying out, he shook out its contents into his hand.

Kwan, who had covered his eyes with his hands when Dash opened the thermos, peeked out from between two fingers. When he saw the object in his friend’s hand, he slowly lowered his guard. “A ring?” he asked, bewildered.

Dash echoed the sentiments. It was, in fact, a ring resting in his palm, threaded with a plain silver chain. The ring itself was totally bizarre. The metal, which was freezing to the touch, seemed to radiate with a bright green color. The black onyx setting didn’t protrude too far from the body of the ring, but it had to be wide across in order to house the main stone - a large emerald, surrounded by tiny ruby studs. When Dash raised the ring in between two fingers and twisted it, he could see a pattern being formed in the stone’s facets. A face of some sort?

The whole ensemble reminded Dash of the class ring his mom had ordered for him last year. Somewhat bulky, very showy, and very unlike Fenton. Judging by its creep factor, it seemed more like Manson’s style than anything. It didn’t help that when he held it, he felt his heart seize up in a sudden sense of foreboding, as if he was being hunted. A cold breeze brushed against the hairs on the back of his neck despite the fact that the AC was definitely not running. Some sort of strange, inhuman beat thrummed in his chest, out of sync with his heart.

It was unpleasant. He shifted his hold onto the silver chain, and the feelings abated. Mostly, anyway.

Kwan whistled. “Wow. A rock like that’s gotta be worth some serious change.”

“You think?” Dash asked absently. He was still distracted trying to decide whether the flash of anxiety had actually been triggered by the ring or not, though he didn’t fail to notice the fact that Kwan made no move to touch it.

“Totally. Look at the size of that thing! It’s like, bigger than my thumbnail.”

Dash shot his friend a look. “Dude. I’ve told you, you gotta stop making weirdly specific comparisons.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that Lancer was all over my ‘descriptive capabilities’ in that last creative writing assignment,” Kwan said, folding his arms across his chest. “Either way, though, I gotta wonder how on earth Fenton could get his hands on something that fancy. Unless if it’s like, a family heirloom or something. Don’t you remember how he had that pop-up garage sale just to afford those sweats for that one party you had?”

The gears in Dash’s head churned faster and faster as the pieces began to fall into place. “Yeah…” he admitted slowly. “And look at it. Fenton wouldn’t be caught dead wearing something like this.”

Kwan looked up at Dash from the ring. He raised an eyebrow; Dash could tell he recognized the look on his face. “What are you thinking?”

Dash grinned. “I’m thinking that we were right about that thing being Phantom’s ghost catcher,” he said, pointing to the thermos with his jaw. “Fenton probably saw him put the ring in there and stole it from him! Maybe he thinks the ring is valuable and he’s waiting for the chance to sell it!”

“Maybe,” Kwan mused. “How would he have stolen it from Phantom in the first place, though? And why would Phantom put a ring in his ghost catcher?”

“Bro, look at this thing and try and tell me it’s not some ghost thing. Don’t you feel that creepy vibe it’s giving off?”

Kwan shrugged noncommittally. “Okay, so we’ll say it’s Phantom’s. You wanna, what, try and return it?”

“Yeah, exactly!” Dash exclaimed. “Think about it! Even if the ring is worthless, Phantom’s gotta be wondering where his ghost catcher went. If we tell him we found it and we give it back to him, it’ll totally establish the three of us as bros! He’ll be so grateful, he’ll definitely want to hang with us.”

Kwan opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off by the ringing of the bell. Dash let loose a string of swears that would absolutely earn him a detention if Lancer had heard him; he snatched the thermos off the desk and dropped the ring and chain back in it. He swung his own bag off his shoulder and, despite Kwan’s sputtering protests, shoved the thermos in.

Satisfied, he threw Fenton’s bag back onto the ground and pulled Kwan towards their usual seats on the other side of the classroom just as the first student walked in.

“What are you doing?” Kwan hissed at him. “Fenton’s totally gonna realize it’s gone! And how are we even supposed to find Phantom to give it back to him?”

A thought flashed across Dash’s mind, making him chuckle at how both of their roles had switched. “Oh, Kwan, dear pal of mine,” he said, “it’s like your mom says: we won’t know until we try.”

Kwan slid into his seat, but kept a glare trained on his friend. “Using my mom like that? Low blow, man.”

Dash watched as more students filed into the room. Mia was busy shooing away Ricky, who kept trying to insert himself between her and Sarah while she showed her something on her phone. Paulina perched herself in the chair in front of him, raving about some sort of girl drama he usually only pretended to pay attention to. Manson and Foley entered a minute later. Their heads were bent close together, and they were whispering furiously about something, even after they took their seats.

Strangely enough, Lancer and Dale were still missing from the room by the time the bell rang. Less strangely, Fenton was late as well.

Dash didn’t really notice. He was preoccupied with watching Manson and Foley, who apparently hadn’t noticed that their third member had left his precious backpack unattended. He scoffed. They were probably too wrapped up in one of their stupid arguments to notice, although the last time they’d gotten into a fight, freshmen were swearing up and down that the two of them could be heard all the way from the gym.

A full four minutes after the bell rang, students had begun muttering about leaving class if Lancer didn’t show. To their disappointment, including Dash’s, the teacher rushed in a moment later looking particularly frazzled. He was followed closely by Dale, who looked downright traumatized, and Fenton, who simply looked bored.

“I apologize for the delay, students,” Lancer said as he shuffled the papers on his desk. “Our lunch detention was rudely interrupted by a ghost who thought it funny to try and make us bungee jump off the school roof… sans bungee cords.”

Well that helped explain why Fenton had left his bag behind. And why Dale, who was deathly afraid of heights, looked like he was about to puke all over his desk.

Dash stole another glance at Fenton, who’d joined his loser friends in their whispering. Manson and Foley, he’d noticed, had relaxed significantly once they’d seen Fenton. More importantly, none of them had paid any attention to Fenton’s bag.

Dash grinned triumphantly. “See Kwan?” he whispered. “I’m telling you, this is gonna work out just fine.”

Kwan only shook his head and pulled out his notebook. “I hope you’re right, bro.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To be continued in Day 27 - Rings

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay2023 #dannymay 2023 #dash baxter #kwan #backpack #dannymay day 2 #hannah writes #fanfic #danny phantom fanfic

[scarletsaphire]

Torn to Bits and Pieces (Dannymay Day 4: Fractals)

A ghost is not easy to kill. Maddie and Jack severely underestimate what tearing Phantom "molecule by molecule" will do.

Danny died completely under his mothers blade. Physically, it didn’t hurt as much as it did the first time he died, but that didn’t mean it was pleasant. Emotionally, it was far, far worse.

They caught him transforming in his bedroom; he hadn’t known they had put cameras to try and figure out how he kept breaking curfew, but they had and they saw him transform after a fight, and he didn’t realize until he awoke with anti-ghost nets draped over him, his hands tied behind his back and his head pounding. There was a bruise on his arm. They had drugged him, he realized through an addled mind.

He tried to talk to them. Tried to reason with them, to show them that he was still Danny, that he wasn’t any different than he was before. They shoved a piece of metal into his mouth, fastened it around the back of his head. It burnt. His eyes watered and he tasted a mix of ectoplasm and blood on his tongue. His father monitored his vitals (they never referred to them as that; he wasn’t alive, so he couldn’t have vitals.) and dealt with collecting the specific samples. His mother held the knife. She was always the more precise of the two. Always the sharper one.

The knife burnt like the gag did, his flesh cauterizing wherever she cut. She started with his feet, pulling out shards of bone, collecting his blood, severing his nerves and his veins and keeping them in neatly labeled specimen jars. He did not die until she made it to his waist. Even then, the pain did not stop.

His body had gone limp, but that did not stop his struggle. It did not stop the tears. Now they flowed down cheeks flushed with green, a double image between his body (his corpse) and him. His mother had smiled at him, separating the bindings from his corpse and securing them firmly around only his ghost. They left the body alone. (They said they’d bury it. Give their son a proper rest, for the death that he, Phantom, had caused. That hurt almost as much as the scalpel.)

They continued their dissection on his ghost. This time there was no bones to extract, no nerves to sever or blood to gather. He wasn’t a half ghost anymore. He was entirely ectoplasm. That didn’t stop them from tearing him apart, gathering samples from every bit of his “body” that they could. (He tried to scream, to shout, to wail. The gag held tight. All he could manage was a bubbling sound from the back of his throat. It felt like it was melting.)

It took hours before they decided they had gathered enough substances to test. It was another hour before they decided how to dispose of him properly. Danny remained aware. Conscious. He felt every agonizing second of their discussion, as everything that was him bled across the table and onto the floor.

They decided that they should fulfill the promise they had made so many times. They would tear him from molecule to molecule, until he was better than dead, since he couldn’t die right the first time. How long this took, Danny couldn’t say. (He couldn’t say anything now. He didn’t have a mouth.)

Killing a ghost is nearly impossible. His parents didn’t know much about ghosts, so they assumed that when he was rendered into pieces barely visible on a microscope, that he would be dead. Properly dead, not like he was the first time (and the second, at their own hands.) That was not the case. Ghosts who were strong enough to have a physical form, who could separate themselves completely from the surrounding ectoplasm, were much sturdier than that. If there was any bit of them left, they would continue to exist.

His parents had not destroyed him. They had torn Phantom into trillions of pieces, yes, spread him throughout their lab, into the ghost zone, into their vents and the rest of Amity Park. And yet every bit was a part of him. Fractions of fractions of fractions. Barely a consciousness at all. But they were aware enough. Aware enough to know pain, and betrayal, and a need to be reunited.

It would be years before enough of him would gather to be anything visible to the eye. Years where ghosts would run rampant, where they would learn just how much he did to keep the town safe. Years for the people he loved to forget about him and run away, or years for the guilt and grief to dig them further into his grave, the ones his parents dug with scientific inquiry, lack of ethics, and a scalpel tipped with poison.

It would take longer for him to do something about it.

Danny would never hurt anyone, especially not his family. Danny would do anything to protect them, to save them. Danny died under his mothers scalpel.

Phantom reformed slowly, painfully, steadily. Madde and Jack were regarded as heroes by the town (the town that had shrunk after Danny’s death, where buildings often didn’t last longer than a year and people died in the dozens. More ghosts showed up every day. More work for them to do.) Maddie and Jack were heroes, like Danny had once been.

Danny had died a hero. Phantom had lived to become the villain they expected him to be.

#tw dissection #tw character death #dannymay2023 #dannymay day 4 #danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #he dies proper #kind of? #he still comes back but not Right

[salmonight]

DannyMay 2023, Day 3: Blizzard

Tittle: When I Die, Bury Me Under the Snow

Summary:  He was crouching down on the frozen ground. Hands grabbing desperately at his hair.  "Heh.."  A listless chuckle left his bluish tinted lips. "I caused this didn't I?"   His voice echoed emptily in the flowing mass of snow and ice. A hysterical laugh bubbled out of his mouth, cutting through the raging tempest of the blizzard like a sharp knife…

Cold air cut into pale cheeks.

Danny's snow white hair was continuously slapped against his face by the freezing winds, but he was barely paying attention to it, not when...

Danny shook his head. Not now. It's not the time for this. He tried to force his mind not to think about it but like a broken record the scenes continued to roll down behind his eyes on a repeat.  

His empty eyes gazed at the scenery around him. Nothing could be seen of the little town it used to be. Now... it had turned into an empty land of snow and ice.

Danny supposed it had only been a matter of time. He was always too close to imploding ever since the 'accident'. Always dancing on the edge, balancing on the thin lines of sanity like an acrobat on a tightrope.

The powdery snow coated the earth in a holy glow and what a cruel heaven it was. No more fights, no more chases, no more harsh words, just silence.

The occasional protruding limbs, stray body parts, the blood specks left to be frozen into ice flowers, only managed to make the scenery even more otherworldly.

The blizzard continued to rage around him. Like the eye of the storm, the icelets swirled round and round..

Sometimes, Danny could have sworn he had heard joyful singing from a distance, a tinkerbell-like laugher, and saw the figures of petit winter fairies dancing around the bleached out mounds in a delightful glee. His core purred with pure bliss at the sight, delighting in the show they put on for their king.

'Maybe these were the signs of insanity?'

Enticing voices purred into his ears, asking him to come and join them, just enjoy the festive atmosphere, and forget all about the unpleasant memories.And the thought of giving in to their bewitchment was oh, so tempting. If he just gave into the allure of oblivion, he wouldn’t have to face what he had done, what he had become, what a monster he actually was.

A hysterical laugh bubbled out of his mouth, cutting through the raging tempest of the blizzard like a sharp knife. How Danny wished he could forget, but how could he? How could he ignore it when he was surrounded by the masterpiece of his own making?

The hundreds of thousands of bodies, all without a sign of life, buried deep under the hail, those who laughed and joked around just mere hours ago, living in blissful ignorance of the true  currents running under the shadier parts of their little town.

Once their hero, now the cause of their demise.

He hadn’t understood the true meaning of his ghostly appearance before - the bluish tint of hypothermia on his skin, the frost that clung to his suit, the way the temperature would drop the second he walked into a room - but now he understood it for what it was. Foreshadowing. A warning that he would be the harbinger of the end for all that he ever loved and hated, destroying both in merciless glee in a matter of seconds. The funniest thing was that it hadn’t even taken much effort. The words from his friends just a little bit more hurtful. The fights from his parents just a little bit more murderous. That was all it took.

He took in a deep breath, the fresh smell of snow tainted by the stench of death, and let out a laugh that choked in his throat made him gasp. Was it a sob? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was the sound of fairies, laughing and beckoning for him to join them.

And as a single frozen tear fell off his face and buried itself in the snow, he did.

.

.

.

A figure could be seen walking across the meadows, leaving a trail of footprints behind him on the snow covered grounds. A low, slightly off tune melody could be heard echoing through the empty snowscape,  a gust of wind bringing the humming around to fill the space.

“Where winter winds rush all around

To freeze the rocks in the ground”

“So when I die, bury me in the snow

So when the spring suns rise

I'll feel the flowers bloom”

“Life is a cold and desperate place

Blinding us all from grace

Keeping us on our own”

“Where winter winds rush all around

To freeze the rocks in the ground”

“So when I die, bury me in the snow

So when the spring suns rise

I'll feel the flowers bloom”

“When I open my eyes

I'll gaze up at blue endless skies”

“So when I die, bury me in the snow

So when the spring suns rise

I'll feel the flowers bloom…”

Ao3

The one that helped betaing this work once again is the lovely Amateum!

The song that the lyrics is from called 'When I Die, Bury Me In the Snow' by The Phantom Pines. The way they performed it is absolutely horrendous but the lyric is to die for.

#dannymay2023 #dannymay #dannymay day 3 #danny phantom #danny fenton #phandom event #blizzard #mention of dead bodies #danny kinda murdered everyone in amity park #unitentionally #he also avoids the guilt by giving in to insanity #he also kinda hallucinates #winter fairy #no comfort here fellas

[the-oaken-muse]

Roadside Vigil Part 2

Dannymay Day 18: Grave

Read it on AO3 if you wanna.

Part 1

Content Warning: Description of a corpse

He stood staring up at the gate for what felt like an eternity. It had been so long since he’d been here; the once familiar wrought iron bars now wore a layer of rust and vines.

Eventually, he took a deep breath and pushed through the gate, its hinges creaking in protest. It was so overgrown that he couldn’t even see the headstones through the tall grasses and weeds. Seedlings that had never been plucked from the ground had taken root and now several good-sized trees towered in what used to be a well-cared-for garden.

In a sudden bout of fury he tore down the vines from the gate, clenching them in his fists until his energy burned them to an ash.

How had he let things get this bad?

Hot anger turned inwards like knives to his chest. He doubled over, fists balled in his hair and yanked until his scalp was sore. A whine squeezed from his lungs, near silent, as he fell to his knees. He cried his self-loathing until his tears were exhausted, staring out through blurry eyes at the final resting place of his loved ones. They were all here—his parents, Jazz and her husband, Valerie and her dad, the Mansons, the Foleys, Tucker… and Sam. He hadn’t been back here since her funeral.

They deserved so much better than this.

It looked like no one had been here in years. There was no one left to care for the land since his niece’s family had moved out of state.

He should have realized… he should have known. He should have come sooner.

Well, he was here now. His strength bolstered with new determination, he pushed himself back to standing and set to work clearing the graveyard.

It was a small private cemetery purchased courtesy of the Manson inheritance. Sam and her parents didn’t always see eye to eye, but at Grandma Ida’s passing, they came together in their shared grief to create a beautiful memorial to her legacy. As the years went by and first her mother, then her father were laid to rest, Sam started spending more and more time here. She put her heart into this place, her subtle love for her family shown in her steady care.

As he worked, pulling weeds and trees alike up by the roots, he began to see the outline of what had once been. The brick path, now moss-covered and uneven; the rose bushes, sprawled well beyond the bounds of their beds; the birdbath, basin toppled from its podium.

Once the yard was as cleaned up as he could get it without tools and he was thoroughly smudged with dirt and grass stains, he could avoid it no longer, the reason he was here.

He went to his parents’ grave first. They were buried side by side, joined at the hip in death as they had been in life. He cleared away the weeds from his father’s headstone, revealing a weathered engraving of the same face that had almost been a permanent part of him, emblazoned on his chest, all those years ago. He reached out a hand and traced the line of his jaw, now chiseled in more ways than one.

He chuckled, chest aching and rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. Apparently he still had some tears left to cry. He sniffled and turned to his mother’s headstone.

Hers had no engraving, no such outright show of narcissism, instead her pride reflected in her achievements. “Wife, mother, grandmother,” it read, “inventor, genius, pioneer in the field of ecto-science, 10th degree black belt.” God, he missed them so much.

Forehead resting against cold stone, he kneeled on the slab with tears streaming down his face and simply let himself grieve.

He repeated the process with the other graves, visiting his friends and family for the first time in decades, mourning their loss anew. The sun was beginning to set, the last golden rays filtering through the trees, by the time he worked up the courage to visit the last one.

He pulled away the weeds just as he had with the others, dulling thought with the now familiar action. When he was done, he stepped back to appraise his work. His enhanced vision could pick out the letters carved into the black granite just as easily in the dark as in broad daylight, though he already knew them by heart.

Here lies Samantha M. Fenton: friend, wife, gardener

Much like the plants she so loved, she always encouraged those around her to never stop growing

She had been the last to die, the last to leave him. Sharp and stubborn until the end, she knew him better than he knew himself at times. She could see his fear written in every furrowed brow and worried crease on his face. She’d lived well past her hundredth birthday, holding on for him, beating back death by sheer will alone.

He’d held out hope until the very end, and even a little after… He’d hoped that she’d stay- that the force of her will would be strong enough to leave an impression on the very fabric of the universe.

Not every death begot a ghost.

He looked out at the field full of stones, not a one of them had stayed. They had all died peacefully, that was something he wouldn’t change, no matter how alone he was. He wouldn’t wish his accident, the terror he’d felt, the pain, on any of them- he loved them too much. As much as he missed them, he loved them even more.

They used to come here every day, he and Sam. She said it was her “Goth Nature,” but just as she knew him, he knew her- she missed them, too. They would come to stroll along the path and visit with the departed, sweep off the headstones and tend to the flowers. They would sit there on the bench and tell Tucker about all the latest tech advancements that he was missing out on; pretend to taunt him with the latest cell phone, partially hoping it would draw him out, mostly knowing it wouldn’t.

His body felt heavy, so heavy. He let gravity drag him down into a seat on the bench. He automatically reached out for her, fingertips meeting only air and weathered concrete.

He hadn’t been back since her funeral, it just wasn’t the same without her here beside him.

He could still hear her laughter, still feel her hand in his; gentle as they walked with fingers intertwined, desperate as the strength left her. She gripped his hand like a lifeline, but he himself was unmoored. He couldn’t even keep himself alive, what hope did she have?

He looked back to his parents’ graves. They were together, side by side forever. He wanted that. It was something he couldn’t have, much as he’d tried. He just wanted to see her again, just wanted to lie in her arms again.

He wrapped himself in a poor imitation of a hug, a cold comfort. He glared at her grave through his tears. She was right there! So close, yet so far. Only a few feet of dirt separated them, he could phase through that easily, it would only take a few seconds…

Standing abruptly, he swiped at his wet face and stomped over to her headstone. Before he could second guess his decision, he let go his tangibility and slipped through the earth to her casket. He stopped just outside of it, placing a hand to the aged wood with a small amount of hesitation. What if there was nothing left? What if all he found was dust? What if she was gone, just like the fox?

He grit his teeth and pushed on, gasping in the stale air. The glow of his eyes lit the interior like a toxic green lamp. There she lay, skeletal, beautiful, horrible.

She would have loved this.

“Oh, Sam, if only you could see yourself now.” He reached out to caress the side of her skull, her hair turning to powder at his touch.

His lip trembled and his throat began to burn with the force of his sorrow.

“If- if only you could see me... what I’ve become, what I’ve done to myself.”

Mindful of her fragile bones, he settled himself next to her and let his ghost half rest for the first time in decades. He was nearly as skeletal as she was. Long gone were the days of his raven locks, his hair now fell in long white strands that tangled with a snowy beard. He might not be able to die, but that didn’t stop the steady creep of time from taking its toll on his human half. He was a soul forever young tied to a feeble, decrepit body.

He curled himself against her hollow ribs, no heartbeat within to calm him, and sobbed the grief he’d been suppressing since the day he’d lost her.

“I- I’ve been so afraid to mourn you, afraid that it would mean I’d given up on you, on- on all of you. I convinced myself that if I just- just ignored it, it wouldn’t be true.”

If he didn’t go back to those old familiar places, maybe he wouldn’t notice the gaping hole of their absence. He didn’t want to move on, to keep living life without them. He’d started spending all his time in the Ghost Zone, thrown himself into training with Clockwork, keeping humanity at arm’s length, viewing it through a distant lens. He’d started existing as a ghost.

“You’d be so disappointed in me. I’ve been running myself ragged, trying to keep myself distracted. I’ve- I’ve been neglecting my human half, my- my humanity. I’ve been so lost without you…”

He had surrounded himself with death, let it consume him, but that was no way to live. Clockwork was right, he was out of balance.

“I’ve been stagnant, I- I need to start growing again.”

He wiped away his tears with a shaking hand, his face still streaked with dirt, now sticky and swollen from all his crying. He felt awful, but he also felt lighter.

“I met a little fox,” he told her. “It reminded me of you. Very judgy, bit of a know-it-all. Stinky.”

He chuckled.

“It helped me remember that death… death is a part of life. The crows and vultures and beetles need to eat, the plants need the nutrients, too. In a more abstract way, ideas get recycled and reworked. Older generations turn over the reins to the next. Some of the things that were progressive when we were kids are already outdated and today’s teens are fighting for new ways to better the world. I’ve seen them in the time windows. One day, their ideals will become the new norm and a whole new group of kids will be fighting a whole new fight. You would be proud of them, I think, even if you didn’t fully understand their issues.”

She had always been a gardener, she knew the importance of fertilizer. He wondered if she would have preferred to have her body decompose in a way that nourished the land, rather than collect in the bottom of this casket. He could always phase her bones out and put them somewhere else… but she wasn’t here anymore, and he didn’t want to lose what remained of her. One day, far in the future, perhaps her casket would decay and her bones alongside it, but until that day he would allow himself this one selfishness, to be able to see her here, buried in this place that they had cared for together.

In a flash of light, he was young once again. He phased back up through the earth, but not before leaving a gentle kiss on her cheek.

The moon was bright in the night sky when he returned to the surface, to the land of the living. It cast the headstones in stark relieve against their shadows.

“I’ll never forget you.” He whispered to the graves. “And I promise it won’t be so long until my next visit.”

They may be gone, but they would live on with him, immortal in his memories, long after their bones had turned to dust, long after the stone markers above them crumbled. He would always love them, but he had to let them go. He would live for the dead and he would live for the living.

There were still people out there he cared about, people that he’d been neglecting.

He was going to reconnect with his niece’s family. He wanted to be part of their lives, he wanted to pass on stories of his loved ones to the next generation. He wanted to see his sister’s eyes when he looked at her granddaughter and the tilt of her nose in her great-grandson.

He wanted to live.

#dannymay2023 #day 18 grave #danny phantom #gore #corpse #death #griefandloss #past danny fenton and sam manson #immortal danny fenton #everybody is dead

[oldsilverblood5]

Buried

The Fenton household wasn’t always a safe place to be. Specifically, the lab in their basement. With all the experiments, inventions and weapons being made and tested there, explosions had become common place in the home. It was expected and the parents had developed a lot of safeguards and rules for their safety over time.

All their work was kept in the safety of the lab’s reinforced steel walls, there was an automatic sprinkler system and all the necessary equipment in case of fire. They had an emergency exit that led into their backyard, emergency radios and an alarm that automatically alerted the fire department in case of a serious incident where those inside were unable to contact them themselves.

But just because they were prepared for these situations, did not mean disaster could not strike.

Maddie and Jack had just finished the prototype for their newest invention; a portable ghost portal that opened a temporary rift between dimensions wherever it was activated. Danny and Jazz were in the lab too, hiding behind a bulkhead with their parents as it was activated for the first time.

It might have been too much power, or the proximity to another stable portal, but the device had overloaded. It exploded, the shockwave enough to crack the wall behind it and even the bulkhead creaked momentarily.

After a moment of silence, the four made their way out to assess the damage. If any of them had bothered to look up, they would have noticed the crack had reached a supporting beam along the roof. The sound of creaking metal was what drew their attention upwards, but by then it was too late to move. They could only scream as the beam collapsed, a sizable chunk of concrete falling with it.

Three members of the family scrambled to hold onto each other as the roof fell around them. It took them a second to realise they felt no pain, and the roof really did fall around them.

A shimmering of green surrounded the small area around them, and three pairs of eyes looked up at the sound of a groan to find the fourth member of their family leaning over top of them. Danny was holding the beam upon which rested the cement chunk with his bare hands, the shimmering green seeming to extend from them as it fell around them in a dome shape.

When everything stopped moving, their youngest slowly started to stand. Shifting rocks and metal could be heard over Danny’s strained groans as he moved upwards, the dome growing in size the higher he stood. Once he was standing upright, the dome shimmered out of existence, and Danny gave one final push to the beam, sending it to the floor and away from his family.

The family that stared at him in shock as he panted for breath above them. When Danny finally looked at them, he froze and paled at their stares. After a moment, he visibly forced down his panic and asked in a shaky voice if they were alright.

They each nodded mutely. Jazz was the first to snap out of it. “H-how… how did you do that?”

“I’m uh… stronger than I look?”

“You made a shield.” Maddie stated. Danny’s flinch snapped some life back into her and she stood to face him. “You made a shield.” She repeated.

Danny looked at the ground when he nodded, as if he were ashamed or scared.

“And the strength required to lift that cement chunk.” Jack piped in, equal parts disbelief and excitement. “That’s- it’s- That’s not…” He looked at his son with wide eyes, “That’s not humanly possible.”

This time, when he flinched, he also stepped back.

“Danny?” Maddie called out comfortingly. “Danny, it’s okay.” She watched her son relax slightly at those words, looking up to meet her eyes. “It’s okay.” She reaffirmed with a smile. The mother cautiously reached out a hand, making sure Danny was comfortable before she laid it on his shoulder.

She sighed with relief when he didn’t flinch again. “Now, how long have you been able to do…” She gestured at the circle around them that held no debris and the large beam and cement block that sat at the side, “This?”

#may's over but I will finish this #dannymay 2020 #dannymay day 27 #dannymay buried #Danny Phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #Maddie fenton #jack fenton #secret reveal #jazz doesn't know either #fanfiction

[saturn-in-autumn]

DannyMay2020 ~ Day 27: BURIED

Among avenues of the dead With their cadences of trees Marble and granite parting

Let us walk for this hour As if death had no power Or were no more than sleep. Things truly named can never Vanish from earth.

‘At Mornington’ & ‘II Nightfall’ by Gwen Harwood

#dannymay2020 #dannymay #danny phantom #dannyphantom #danny fenton #daniel fenton #nikelodeon #my art #day 27 #buried #danny phantom art #danny phantom fanart #phart #catch me adding poetry to try and justify English Literary Studies #my head hurts - cant draw real well... #1990 - 2004 is 14 years - how old danny was when he stepped into the portal #where did 2004 come from you ask? That was the year the show released #so it must also be the year of his accident right?

[cawziiku]

Dannymay Days 16 & 27: Bones + Buried

yesterday's prompt was done at like 4 am, so i might as well make up for that lmao

also its unrealistic how far ive made it into a calendar wth

#dannymay #dannyphantom #danny phantom #dannymay2020 #bones #buried #danny phantom wulf #wulf

[little-pondhead]

Day 10: Bones

DANNYMAY MASTERLIST

...

Valerie wasn't known for her tolerance of ghosts. In fact, she hated them so much that she became Amity Park's second vigilante, Red Huntress. The first vigilante, unfortunately, was the most annoying spirit in existence, who still managed to out-preform her in everything she tried to do. Valerie tried time and time again to put Danny Phantom back into the ground where he belonged, but every fight just ended up with her stalking off in a fit of rage while Phantom floated lazy circles in the air, calling out stupid suggestions on what she needed to improve on.

It was infuriating.

Still, the pair had their calm moments when the weight of the world was so heavy they had no choice but to seek the other out under a white flag, desperate for the grounding the other could provide. More often than not, it was Phantom suggesting the truce, usually because some large threat needed to be addressed.

This time, it was Valerie that had tracked down the ghost and presented a deal. It was finals week for her senior year, and Valerie needed all the time she could to study. The relief on Phantom's young face gave her pause, but otherwise, their conversation went smoothly.

"This is perfect timing!" Phantom chirped, flipping around in excitement. Cujo, his stupid ghost dog, bounced between the two, trying to get someone to play with him. "I just made a deal with the rogues to back off for the week, so neither of us should have to lift a finger during finals."

Val coughed, squashing the growl rising in her throat. She used her foot to gently nudge Cujo away, sending him back towards Phantom once more. "Why would you make such a deal?"

Phantom shrugged, sticking his hand in his chest and rummaging around for something. "I've heard how bloodthirsty students can be during finals week. This is kinda for everyone's sake. The only thing I'll be out watching for is the GIW and the only thing you should watch out for is the Fentons." Finally locating what he needed, Phantom scrunched up his face as a loud snap! was heard. Then he withdrew his hand and presented Cujo with a thin, black, curved bone.

The human vigilante watched in detached, fascinated amusement as Phantom threw his rib bone for the ghost dog, who took after it at lightning speed. Phantom turned back, giving Val a winning smile. She rolled her eyes. Phantom was still the same kid she started fighting all those years ago, trapped in an immortal body, doomed to look the age he was when he died. She had no real way of telling his true age. But when he did stupid stuff like this, Valerie couldn't help but feel like he really was just a kid.

"You better get that back before Cujo decides to bury it. That's what he does with all his bones." Was her parting remark. Phantom's look of dawning realization and frantic takeoff toward Cujo made her giggle, even if she'd never admit it.

#danny phantom #pondhead writes #dannymay2023

[ghostly-penumbra]

DannyMay 2022. Day Four

"Videotape"

Ao3 FFN

Summary: In the cursed school of Casper High, a box is unearthed, within it, a ray of hope shines.

Crossover with the anime Another. Contains BIG, HEAVY spoilers for the anime, namely the origin of the curse, the way it works, and how to stop it. No actual character spoilers tho.

WARNING: For descriptions of death and murder. And some swearing.

- - -

Transcript from the video found in an unmarked USB drive, sealed in a Ziploc bag and buried in a metal box next to Casper High's memorial.

The video starts by showing the face of a girl in her teen years, with black hair and violet eyes. Here eyeliner was smudged, running down her cheeks following the path of dry tears, her eyes are red.

GIRL: This is Sam Manson, second year Casper High student from class C.

Sam stops talking and purses her lips in a bitter smile.

SAM: Yeah, the cursed class. So you probably know how this is going to go.

She stands up and steps back from the camera, sitting down in what becomes clear is a classroom.

SAM: [Sigh] I- I'm recording this because- [Sob] because I can't really tell anyone what happened. What I did. Because they won't actually care; their memories already changed, and even now I can feel mine do the same.

SAM: Besides... I don't wanna face what I did. What it cost to break- to pause the curse.

She looks intensely at the camera.

SAM: So if you are watching this, if you went through the trouble of digging this up, it means you're desperate. And you have to be desperate enough to... to go through with it.

SAM sniffles and looks to the side.

SAM: I guess I should start from the very beginning, with how our curse started.

There is a pause, where SAM breathes in and slowly lets it out.

SAM: It all started twenty years ago, with a trio of friends. Jack, Maddie and Vlad. They were the best of friends, a trio of weird, unpopular kids that only each other liked. They were weirdly obsessed with death and ghosts —as in, "I'll study this when I grow up"—, so it's no wonder things ended up like they did.

She sighs heavily and rubs her face with both hands, tired.

SAM: There was an accident. They were working on a science project, I don't really know the details, but I think they were in their second year, right here in Casper. It went awfully bad, that thing blew up in Vlad's face, and I mean that literally, it exploded right in the moment Vlad was doing maintenance, it scarred his face, put him in a comma, and he died a few weeks later. Lancer —the professor that told this to us— had just started teaching when this happened, and he said that Vlad's death affected the whole school, specially his class, but the Fen- Jack and Maddie more than anyone. So much that they didn't even move on from the denial stage of grief.

The recording glitches for a second, but then goes on as if nothing.

SAM: They refused to accept their friend was dead, and pretended he was still there with them, going to classes, having lunch, hanging out... goes to show the need for therapy, but anyway. Lancer said, that the other students felt pity for them, or they disliked the way the school felt after Vlad died, but whatever the reason, soon the whole class had joined in, and pretended everything was alright, to the point that Lancer himself joined them.

SAM pauses for a second, looking tired, and sighs.

SAM: That's really fucked up, man. Nothing happened to them, that year or their next, but once their generation graduated and another one came in, the curse set in, and students or their relatives began dying. The reigning theory is that after the Vlad incident, our class was... marked... as one that welcomes the dead, and every year, there is a student that is a ghost, someone that died before classes started, but no one remembers... not even the ghost themselves. Reality gets warped, school records change, pictures, videos... honestly, I don't know if this thing will be complete or coherent when you find it. I sure hope so, for your sake; I'll put it in a... special container, in any case.

The video glitches again.

SAM: No one remembers who died, and that's the thing, not even Death remembers who died, so it kills us at random until it hits the mark.

There is bitterness in her voice and her lips curl up in a sneer.

SAM: Fucking idiot can't do its one fucking job right and we get fucked over for it.

There is a crash as something breaks off-camera, but SAM doesn't flinch, only glares towards it with the fury of a thousand suns, and after a moment where nothing happens, she continues.

SAM: And now comes the worst part, for me, at least. If you have been paying attention, you know where this is going. It sucked for me and it will suck for you.

SAM's eyes begin to water, and she takes deep breaths. She carries on.

SAM: The only way to... to pause the curse for your class, not to stop it, because a freshman died a few days ago, is by returning the dead to Death. You have to find out who is the ghost in your class, and kill them.

SAM's lips tremble, and her shoulders shake.

SAM: I know this because that's what I did, two weeks ago.

A tear runs down her cheek. The video glitches.

SAM: Our curse was getting worse; the deaths were happening more often, they were bloodier, and the "ignore one kid" method had stopped working when Mikey —our "kid—, died... we still don't know if that was because of the curse, or just another unfortunate death... we were running out of time, and had no more ideas, so we just tried our luck and went to this old church outside Elmerton. It's just a fucking tourist trap, but we needed anything to hope; fuck, I'm Jewish and I went anyway.

She closes and opens her fists where they rest in the hem of her skirt.

SAM: We were praying and shit, when Tucker —my friend who knows a lot about technology— said he had found a weird wifi signal, with a name he recognized, so we went to check it out...

SAM: That church we went to, it has this stupid statue of a Saint or something, and its eyes are supposed to shine really bright in a certain way when something divine happened- I don't know! But lo and be-fucking-hold, there was a fucking panel of control, connected to the lightning system in the statue and... and stuck there, was mister Lancer, choked by several cords, dead... we didn't know how he ended up like that, or when did he get separated from us, but there he was... we freaked out, Tucker ran to alert the others, and Danny- [Sob] our... our other friend, stayed behind with me. He wanted to get Lancer out of there, show respect for him. I told him we should just leave and run away... we started arguing, started yelling at each other... we were very fucking stressed, and taking out on each other, and when push came to shove—

SAM's voice breaks, and she starts crying openly now.

SAM: I pushed him! Right towards Lancer and that fucking hazard of a panel and- and it killed him! Electrocuted him to death...

SAM sobs, and tries to stop the flow of tears with her hands, but only smears more her eyeliner.

SAM: I killed Danny. I killed my best friend. And then I remembered, it wasn't the first time I had done that...

SAM: The summer before our freshman year, Danny's parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, had built this... thing, they wanted it to be a portal to the afterlife, they wanted to find ghosts, still. But it didn't work, because of course it didn't. So we went to check it out, because I wanted to. I convinced Danny to get inside it to take him a picture, and I don't know why or how... it turned on, with Danny inside. The portal electrocuted him to death, and I didn't remember until it happened again, until I killed him for a second time.

Tears keep running down her face, but SAM is no longer sobbing. She just has a resigned expression on her face as she stares off into the distance.

SAM: I ran to find Tucker, and found the class getting ready to go. Scared. I told him what had happened, how I killed Danny again but... he didn't remember. He only remembered Danny as some kid we used to hang out with when we were little, not as our best friend we had seen die on his basement, or the classmate that had been with us since our first year. So I took him to see his body... but it wasn't there anymore, only Lancer's.

SAM: He- he thinks I've gone crazy from everything, but I know I'm not because since that day, no one else has died, neither a student nor a relative. It's all as it should be... and I hate it.

SAM: So there you have it. To break the curse, you have to kill the extra student. No matter who it is... not matter how much they deserve to live... more than you, or your classmates. Look for someone with gaps in their memory, try finding any records... don't fall into panic... and try not to die.

SAM stands up tiredly and walks towards the camera, presumably to turn it off, but before she can reach it, the video glitches once again, and the dark figure of a boy with his whole body burnt and covered in Lichtenberg figures appears behind her, icy blue eyes staring right at her.

SAM's hand reaches the camera, and the video ends.

-

Holly fuck that’s probably the longest fic I’ve written yet. When I finally finish this (which will be in a long while) I’m probs gonna ask for someone to beta it so it’s better.

Some thoughts:

This portal is still a safety hazard and that’s why it kills Danny. It doesn’t actually work and that’s why Danny doesn’t come back. Danny died because Jazz’s was in the cursed class and Death got to him.

SPOILER: I had other ideas on how this could go down, with a counselor Vlad being the Another to parallel better the anime, and having the OG ghost back again. Or maybe Jazz.

Mikey did die in a normal, non-cursed way. It was a tragedy not only because he was so young, but because it unleashed the curse again.

Lancer died in that church in Elmerton even though they were outside Amity at the time because in my head, a long time ago Elmerton actually used to be part of Amity Park, but it became its own city/town at some point, but the curse doesn’t care.

Should I tag as ambiguous ending?

#Danny Phantom #Sam Manson #AU #Another #day four #videotape #death tw #murder tw #curses #found footage #Danny Fenton #Tucker Foley #Mr. Lancer #ghostly-scrypts #DannyMay 2022 #dannymay #dannymay2022 #cross posted on ao3 #crossposted on fanfiction.net

[canofspooks]

DannyMay Day 8 (Electric Core AU)

Summary: Danny’s never done well with thunder storms. It gets worse after he has powers.

Words: 967

The gentle patter of water against the windows and occasional distant thunder was a calming background to Jazz's studying - as calming as cramming for a comprehensive psychology exam could be, which wasn't saying a lot. Her options were to either pass this exam with flying colors, or her GPA would drop, and she'd lose her chance at being valedictorian, and then she'd never get into a prestigious university, and -

Thud.

Her worrying was cut short by a muffled thump from the next room over. Danny's room. Jazz recognized the dull buzz of electricity, even through the walls. It rang like TV static in her ears, thankfully too high-pitched for either of her parents to catch, what with the amount of explosions that had ruined their hearing.

Jazz set her pencil down and went out into the hallway. She knocked on Danny's door.

"Can I come in?"

A disgruntled groan answered her, so she cracked open the door. Danny was sitting on the floor, hugging his knees close to his chest. She could see static sparking along his skin anywhere he shifted, even slightly. Jazz slipped into the room and closed the door behind her.

"Is it the storm?" she asked. She sat down next to Danny, close enough to feel the electricity make her hair stand on end.

Danny buried his face in his knees, gripping his legs tighter as a flash of thunder coincided with another series of sparks along his skin. "... Yeah."

"Maybe going into your ghost form would help." Jazz didn't understand a single thing about the world her parents - and now brother - dealt with, but if she could learn to tell the difference between the cerebrum and the cerebellum, she should figure out how ghost powers worked. She had to, for Danny's sake.

In a blue flash, Danny changed into his ghostly form. The electricity no longer danced on the surface of his skin, instead it played with the edges of his form. He looked blurry, out-of-focus almost. Like something made of TV static.

"Slightly better." Danny's grip on his knees loosened, and he turned to look at her with tired eyes. It was then that she remembered it was one in the morning, and the storm had been going for several hours.

She reached out towards Danny. After the initial electricity that jolted through her, his arm felt weird. Still, as long as she kept her hand on him, it didn't shock her further. Jazz was thankful for that.

"I don't know how applicable this is... but maybe tensing your muscles is worsening the pain? Like cramps."

Danny groaned. "If I move, I'm going to die."

"I know it feels like that, but give it a shot. Try to roll your shoulders."

He grimaced, but slowly began to sit up. He stretched, grumbling under his breath the entire time. Jazz stretched with him, opting for the kinds of awkward stretches that usually distracted her from the overwhelming pain of cramps, as ridiculous as it always looked to her brother. She found it amusing that he seemed desperate enough to try it out.

Once he'd twisted himself into a position that looked a bit like a squashed bug, she was surprised to find him laughing. "I hate that this is kinda working," he admitted. "This feels so stupid."

"That's why it's working. It is stupid."

With another clap of thunder, Danny tensed. and the sparks returned. She frowned. Well, there had to be something psychological behind that. She got up and dipped into her room to grab a container of earplugs, setting it by Danny.

"What's this for?"

"Plug your ears. For science." She didn't want to elaborate on her hypothesis, lest his teenage stubbornness alter the results of her experiment.

Danny obliged her, surprisingly. The next time she heard the distant thunder, she looked over at Danny and found that his body didn't have nearly the same strong reaction.

"Hm. Good to know."

Danny pulled out one of the earplugs. "What?"

"Put it back in. I think hearing the thunder is causing a reaction."

"Since when did you become a ghost expert?" Despite his teasing, Danny plugged his ears again.

She didn't bother to respond to her brother, instead getting up and wandering around the room. She turned his desk lamp on, closed the curtains, and retrieved his music player from his backpack.

"I think, as long as you block out the sound with something, you should be able to get some sleep," she said, holding out the music player. Danny exchanged the earplugs for earbuds, and in the quiet room she could hear him start to listen to music.

"What about my ghost form? If Mom and Dad walk in on Phantom sleeping in my bed, I'm dead. Dead for real."

"You do know you have a lock on your door, right?"

"If I don't answer in thirty seconds, you know Dad's breaking down the door - lock or not."

"Fair enough." Jazz conceded that much. Privacy in the Fenton household was a moot point when their father was a well-meaning meathead with enough pure muscle mass to use his own body as a siege weapon. "I don't think I'll be getting much sleep anyway. I'll keep an ear out for them, and try to wake you if they try to go in your room."

"Thanks, Jazz. I owe you one. Don't tell anyone about this, though. I... really don't want Tucker and Sam to worry."

Jazz nodded, and pulled Danny into a hug. The static shock wasn't as intense as before, and she recovered much quicker. "I promise this is just between you and me. As long as you don't tell anyone I'm cheating on my exam, I'll keep your secret."

"You're what?!"

"I didn't say anything. Must've been your music."

#dannymay2023 #spooks reign of terror