#danphanwritingprompt fill

[tachvintlogic]

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship: Danny Fenton & Valerie Gray

Characters: Danny Fenton, Valerie Gray

Additional Tags: Tumblr Prompt, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Injury, Hospitalization, Prompt Fic

Words: 1664

Fill for a @danphanwritingprompts prompt: After Valerie gets seriously injured, her dad begs Phantom to whatever it takes to make amends in hopes it’d convince Valerie to quit ghost hunting.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #valerie gray #prompt fill #tach's fics

[q-gorgeous]

He Was Free

Prompt: It would’ve been nice if Danny had gotten the beautiful grave and memorial that he deserved. Instead, no one even found his body. (from danphanwritingprompts) (PR285) @gilbirda

Word Count: 1028

ao3

ffn

ahhhhdvcjshbdjhvhgkd

Danny sat inside of his new cell. They had just finished transferring him to a new room. It was further down under the complex, a higher restriction area. Somewhere that only a select few people could get into. Where no one would know where he was. 

He wished that he could have gotten the beautiful grave and memorial that he deserved. Instead, no one even found his body. It was floating in a tube in the room that was on the other side of the glass. 

No one even knew he was dead. 

He wishes that he could have said goodbye to Sam, Tucker, and Jazz. He wishes he would have been able to grow up with them. But that was something that was no longer possible. 

He was so angry. He was so angry that his parents believed these terrible, terrible people over him. That they hadn’t believed they were hurting him. All they cared about was whether or not they could get rid of Phantom. They didn’t even listen to him when he said that he and Phantom were one in the same. 

The GIW agents knew that. They knew there was no difference between him and his ghost half, that there was nothing that had corrupted Danny. That all that had happened was that he died but didn’t. 

He could hear the GIW talking to his parents outside of his original room one day. That Phantom had escaped, had taken their son. They hadn’t been able to separate them. His mom had been crying, his dad had been silent. 

The GIW couldn’t tell them that they had killed their son. That he hadn’t just run away. All they cared about was killing ghosts and they did that in whatever way possible. 

It had been a month since Danny died. He was weak at first but he could feel his power growing, going back to what it was and getting even stronger than before. He wondered if that was because he was a full ghost now. Maybe. 

He sat in his cell, staring at the door, waiting. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. Anything. Nothing. Something. 

Then he could hear the door in the outer room opening. He looked up through the viewing glass to see the agent walking in and shutting the door behind him. He holds up a clipboard, taking notes as he studies Danny’s body as it floats in the tube. 

“Physical generation is still progressing nicely, even without a ghost present inside the body. Almost all the scars inflicted on the subject have healed. Some are even disappearing.”

Danny’s brows furrowed. He thought they killed him. That his body was dead. He thought they were keeping his there to study his insides or something but if it was still regenerating then it must be some sort of alive.

Right?

Danny watched as the agent took more notes on his clipboard, scratching his pencil across the paper. He looked up from his notes and met Danny’s eyes. 

“You’ll be proud to know your body is doing much in the way of progressing science.” The agent walked up to the window. “Even for sciences outside of ectology.” 

“Fuck you.”

“And our studies on how to make the perfect hybrid soldiers are progressing even better. With the regeneration your body utilizes, it would be perfect for those looking to enlist. The government would love to know we could make soldiers that could never die.” 

The agent pauses. 

“Well. It’d be very hard to kill them.” He said. “You put up quite the fight.”

“How is my body still alive?” Danny asked, ignoring him. “I thought you killed me?”

“We’ve been storing it in this ectoplasm filled vat. Because of exactly what you are, it’s utilizing the ectoplasm to keep itself alive. Even without you in it.”

“Does that mean you’ll eventually let me go?”

The agent barks out a laugh. “Of course not! You’re too valuable of a specimen. Why would we ever let go of the first halfa we’ve ever gotten our hands on? That’d be ludicrous.”

“Because you’ll never get out. Our security is top notch and everything is powered by an anti-ghost generator. You can’t get through anything.”

“And if the generator goes out?” 

The agent scoffs. “The generator will never go-”

The lights shut off, and the electric humming of the lights and machinery around them stop. 

Danny stands up. This is his chance. He flies through the door. He tenses for a moment, expecting to hit it, but he passes straight through. He turns towards the tube that his body is floating in and takes a deep breath. 

He phases through the tube and into his body. It feels sort of like he’s overshadowing someone, but instead of simply laying on top of their mind, everything clicks back into place and he blinks open his eyes. 

He’s turning intangible and falling through the tube onto the floor. Everything is so heavy, he hasn’t felt the pull of gravity in over a month. He’s struggling to get up, get to his feet. A hand grabs his shoulder and before he can even think he shoots an ectoblast in the direction the hand is coming from. He hears a shout and before he’s grabbed again Danny is transforming and flying through the ceiling. 

Soon he’s flying through the ceiling and he’s looking at the night sky. At the stars. Tears start to well in his eyes and he flies in the direction that he thinks Amity Park is in. 

He didn’t know how he got out. He didn’t know who was pulling the strings there. Tucker maybe? But he couldn’t help but think he got unbelievably lucky today. He thought he would have been stuck there forever. He thought he was dead, that his body was just being kept for study. Not that he’d ever get out with a living breathing body again.

He didn’t know where he’d go. He’d probably crash at Tucker’s house. Hide out in his attic. He didn’t think he could face his parents again. Not for a long time. 

But for now, he was free. 

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #danny fenton #giw #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #phic #phic phight #phic phight 2022 #phic phight team ghost #last one of the year folks #we had a good run #28k

[spinwrites]

the bag

Danny Phantom fanfic. Summary: Something in Danny's bag is going to get him killed. Will he outrun his fate?

-

Danny woke up, looked out of his window where the birds were singing, and knew that he would die today.

Nothing to be done about it. He went through the motions: brushed his teeth, took a shower, pulled on clothes he hoped smelled clean, and in no time at all he was standing before his backpack, looking down at the contents within.

Did I leave anything behind? What even is the point of checking?

He decided to anyway, and went to his desk.

It did not look like a teenager’s desk. A stationery holder sat in a forlorn corner, containing one (1) obligatory pencil. Leaning against the wall were textbooks bought at the beginning of freshman year, though if Danny opened them, he knew their margins would be paper-white and its paragraphs devoid of highlight. The remainder of his desk was clean, as if its owner had never existed.

With nothing to take with him, he hefted the backpack over his shoulder. It weighed him down, and he imagined there were fresh corpses trapped within, but no corpse could sustain the ruse of merely sleeping; all would eventually fall into rot and grow into stench. Their discovery was inevitable, and it was inevitability that Danny feared.

As he walked down the stairs, every creak of the floorboards resounded, like the echoing toll of his funeral.

At the kitchen table, his father wielded an ecto-gun. The man pulled the trigger, and frowned at the weapon, but he bid a good morning to his son, who lingered at the doorway.

“Breakfast, Danno?” asked Jack, gesturing to a plate of toast before him. He fiddled with the gun, which Danny sensed was uncharged, and muttered, “Why’s this stuck?”

Danny wasn’t hungry – hadn’t been since he collapsed into slumber at four with bruises painted over his back. The toast was browned, charred at the corners. Butter oozed like yellow pus from its edges, pooling onto the silver plate.

He took a seat and picked up a slice. The clock on the wall ticked, loud over the lack of explosions from the lab below.

“Where’s Mom?” he asked.

“Out for some errands,” answered his father. “She’ll be back.”

“Oh. Okay.” He ate his toast, and tried not to think about the day. When his fingers were sticky but empty, he scrubbed them at the sink. “Dad,” he said.

“Yeah, bud?”

“It’s time.”

His father pocketed the gun. “Alright.” His smile was bright, antithetical to the thudding of Danny’s heart. “Let’s go.”

–

His father’s chatter filled the RV.

If Danny listened to it, the burn of the bag against his back dimmed to a simmer, and the inevitability retreated into an old nightmare. But the American flag soon came into sight, whipping from its pole, followed by the red bricks of Casper High, stark against the backdrop of a pale gray sky.

The RV slowed, and rolled to a stop before the courtyard. It led to a set of front steps, which ended at a pair of bright red doors.

From the window of the passenger seat, Danny watched the students pass by; youth after youth heading up these steps, their bags slung over their backs, walking into the jaws of the den.

“Danny?” asked his father, tone light. “You going?”

“I...”

Danny’s knuckles were white over the straps of his bag. He had no excuses, no get-out-of-jail cards.

“I– I don’t–”

He choked then, and hunched into a coughing fit that tore at his throat – he had swallowed his saliva wrong – but his father pounded his back, and when air returned to his lungs, he saw the wisp of cool condensation manifest before his eyes.

His ears caught it before his brain did.

“I AM THE BOX GHOST!”

Both Fentons launched into action. Jack shouted and whipped out his ecto-gun, then remembered the morning and pulled out the Jack o’ Nine Tails; Danny pressed his lips together and fumbled for his bag, grasping for the thermos.

His fingers brushed against other things, but these things– they no longer occupied the forefront of his mind.

“Danny, stay here! That ghost’s not going to get away from Jack Fenton!” The man disappeared with a slam of the door, which rocked the RV. He left the gun on the driver’s seat, Danny registered distantly, as his eyes tracked the blue menace speeding past the red doors of Casper High.

Half a year ago, the screaming would’ve begun. Today, students went about their day and gave the ghost a wide berth. But there was a pounding in Danny’s chest and a dizziness in his head, because in the vestiges of his mind, a flitting thought was warping into an idea, and the idea...

The idea... it was turning into a plan.

He grabbed the gun, unbuckled his seatbelt, then wrenched open the door and leapt out of the RV. He left the thermos propped against his bag on the passenger seat – two innocuous items that disappeared from his line of sight when the door swung shut.

Facing the courtyard, he took a deep breath and screamed, “Hey, Box Ghost!”

The courtyard stilled. Conversations fell silent and eyes turned to him, students blinking out of the stupors of their mornings.

The ghost spun to him, pale eyes aglow. Cardboard boxes and scraps of wrapping whirled in an inexplicable wind. “Phanto–” he began.

“How ‘bout you take on someone your own size?”

“Get away from my son!” boomed his father from a distance. With a bellow, he rushed at the ghost. A bang resounded; his Jack o’ Nine Tails fired, its net swelling into a web of cables that crackled with electricity. It missed the target by a mile.

Box Ghost ignored the man and whizzed towards where Danny stood, boxes trailing his back in a streak of blue light. Danny gritted his teeth, tightened his fingers over the gun, and whipped it out before him.

“Danny, wait–”

“Eat dirt!” shouted the teen, taking aim, squinting his eyes and then– “Ah! This weapon! It doesn’t work! Oh, God!”

Box Ghost threw his head back and laughed, his voice echoing. “Your puny weapons are no match against my wrath of all things square!” He raised a hand, and cast a palm out. Three cardboard boxes detached from its fellow squares and slammed into Danny’s face with consecutive thwacks.

Danny fell over and clutched his head. “Gah, it hurts!”

“Danny-boy,” his father gasped, horrified.

“Wait,” said Box Ghost. He had stopped advancing. “Seriously?”

Clambering to his feet, Danny trembled his arms, and the gun shook. He ignored everyone’s gaping – the students, his dad, the teachers – for there were grander things at stake than his rep. “Get- get away!” he said, then sent a pulse of ecto-energy into the gun and fired.

The shot went wide. Birds squawked from a nearby tree, and he heard fluttering in the sky.

But it worked. Box Ghost’s eyes glazed over in madness and he raised his arms. “You will PAY! You will experience the full force of my POWER!”

Bubble wrap slapped into Danny and wrapped around his arms. The static from the plastic made his hair stand, but the bubbles were unpopped; it felt like laying in an airy waterbed. An airbed. Danny felt the consequence of sleeping at 4AM hit him like a full-body slam, and was overcome with an overwhelming desire to take a nap.

Then he thought about the bag in the RV.

“Oh, God,” he sobbed, not trying very hard to break out. He popped a few bubbles though, because it was bubble wrap. “It hurts! Please, Box Ghost, n-no more!”

Tupperwares headed straight for him in a blaze of blue. He braced for impact, feeling the first one clip his shoulder, the second bounce off his shin, and the last– his eyes widened; this wasn’t part of the plan but he was also trapped in bubble wrap and was supposed to be immobile and–

Nuts, he thought, before the container smacked into his forehead with the force of a train.

–

By the time she had rushed to the school and brought Danny home, her boy – unconscious after defending his schoolmates from a ghost, oh my brave, brave child – had gained a canvas of bruises. There was a spread of it across his back, blue-black and yellow-green, and looking down at him, sleeping so soundly in his bed, Maddie Fenton experienced fear she had not felt in years.

“My son needs to stay at home,” she hissed into the phone by her ear. “For as long as he needs! He needs rest, so he can recover from the ghost attack in your school!”

Voices squawked at the end of the line.

“This has nothing to do with my family! With all due respect, why didn’t your staff activate the ecto-defensive system we installed for you–”

As she spoke, she set Danny’s school bag on the chair at his desk. Did he clean his table? she wondered, but the thought dissipated as she snapped a response, “And that includes an extension for his deadlines. I don’t care if anything important was due today, my boy’s health comes first!”

Despite her lowered volume, it began to rouse the teen from his slumber, and the tail end of his mother’s conversation registered faintly in his head.

Danny woke up, looked at the bag where all his untouched work lay, and with a shit-eating grin, knew that he would live another day.

-

Written: 3 May 2020 | danphanwritingprompt

#one shot #dp danny #danphanwritingprompt fill #fanfiction

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - Between White Roses And Black Granite

For: @gilbirda

People mourn loss in the ways that they do but Danny hasn’t really been lost even when he has been

Petals in spring and headstones in fall, to keep dear those in-between them all.

Petals and stones. Something beginning to decay and something unable to. One will be petrified or thrown away, while the other will remain until time wears that away too.

In a way it made sense that neither were things he knew, he was time immemorial after all. Here too long for any to remember otherwise and bound to that fact being unchanging.

The lord of times chosen child dear.

Even if that had nothing to do with his lack of getting what near all others had… or would one day get to have. The rest of the world filled with beings on the precipice of flowers and headstones; days or months or years or centuries perhaps, away.

The rest of the world wasn’t burdened with both. Both sides of the coin. Of the universe. Petals and stones in a much more metaphorical sense he guesses.

Petals on flowers bloom and then they wilt and fall. Rot. All in no time at all and with minimal effort. Blink and what once was daisies is bent stems. Too hot or too cold or too sunny or too shady or too high or too low, and suddenly thriving becomes dying too fast to rewind.

Fragility.

Mortals. The living. Really were flowers. Here and gone. Breakable. Painfully breakable.

Stones building up headstones and tombs, standing so long they themselves are gracing immortality. But wind and sand and rain and the cruelties of mortal things, all bearing down takes its toll and stones crumble to rubble and ash. Dirt on the ground. Useless and forgotten. The loss of the stone going often unnoticed, for better or for worse.

Things of the past, and so often left there. Ghosts were much the same. The dead. Whispers of another time, another place, another existence. Eventually worn away and fading into nothing by the marching on of time. Slow and unnoticed. A stone on a hill, once part of something more and something with purpose.

That too, hurt. A different kind of painful, but painful all the same.

-

But him, he was different.

Unbearably different.

No flowers with their soft colourful petals, nor headstone built stone by stone packed together; and no written words to honour and smooth him or another.

There was never going to be.

There wasn’t a body after all. Wouldn’t be. Not now, not ever. No body to place a headstone to one day wear down at the head of. No body to place flowers to wilt their petals away like tears over top of.

There would be nothing.

And in a way that was its own sort of ‘death’. A ‘death’ without goodbyes, or well wishes, or memories, or ‘see you soon but hopefully not too soon’s.

Again, unbearable.

There is no beauty to be had with this kind of ‘death’. It’s just eternity stretching out forever and ever.

But mourning that would be silly right? Mourning is for the lost and gone.

For the flowers and headstones.

And he…

He didn’t get that.

Stones in fall and flowers in spring, yet neither for the time in-between such things.

End.

Prompt: It would’ve been nice if Danny had gotten the beautiful grave and memorial that he deserved. Instead, no one even found his body. (from danphanwritingprompts)

#Danny Phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2022 #fanfic #phanphic #angst #flowers #headstones #immortality #poetic #burial #refelction #phantomphangphucker #my writing #have a fic suck my dick #danny fenton

[dp-marvel94]

Fractured

For the Phic Phight 2021.

Prompt by @blueoatmeal. Fracture: At his creation, he was a fusion of two mismatched halves. Now, the Dark Phantom is split into two pieces again.

Word Count: 4828

Also on A03 and Fanfiction.net

Warnings for suicide mention, mention of blood, general TUE timeline awefullness

This took me so long to finish but I'm done. I've actually really wanted to write something like this for a while. It's also inspired this post, a conversation with @all-out-disney based on a prompt by @danphanwritingprompts.

When he had first been created, it was painful. The combination of two mismatched parts, two fractured pieces that never should have come together to form a whole. In the beginning, Phantom and Plasmius had fought against each other. Everything had been confusion and pain. So much information, so many memories and sensations clashing together. The two had nearly fallen apart at the start. But the thing holding them together? Anger.

Kill it! Kill the brat!

No! No! The new being’s hands held their head while it screamed.

Weak! It was his fault! In his head, one voice screamed. His fault they’re gone.

His fault? The other voice asked, the words echoing in their head.

An enraged hiss. His fault! His fault! 

They’re gone.

Gone! He threw us away! 

A fresh memory. Being ripped out of his body, his souls being pulled apart. Oozing, bleeding. A pain in his inmost being.

He threw us away...But...

In front of the lanky, blue skinned ghost, a blue-eyed boy trembled. Danny’s human half whimpered. “Please! Stay away!”

Quick! Do it now! In the air, the new ghost twitched, hunched over in pain.

But...I don’t want to-

He didn’t want us. Didn’t want us. Pain. Pain. His fault.

That licked at their anger. He didn’t want me. A growl. This was supposed to fix things, supposed to make the pain go away.

It’s his fault.

The human pressed up against the wall, his breath quickening. “No. This is wrong. This is wrong.”

“This is your fault.” The new being hissed, his voice a sick, twisted echo of the human’s.

Danny shook, eyes widening. “No. I didn’t...I didn’t want this.”

I didn’t want this. One voice echoed the human’s words.

Kill him! Before he destroys us!

Shakily, one hand lit with an ectoblast. Their eyes widened with terror even as a wicked grin stretched across their face.

No! I don’t-

The being shot the blast anyway. Danny screamed as the energy burned him. He scrambled to get away, his hands reaching for something to protect himself with. He grabbed a green and silver device and jabbed it at the ghost.

The flaming-haired figure growled in pain. It hurt. Everything hurt. It wasn’t supposed to hurt anymore.

Make the pain go away. Destroy the weakness.

Weakness. The part of them that was, that had been Phantom, remembered. Pain. Too weak, too slow, too stupid to save them. Curled on his bed, crying until he couldn’t breath. Wishing he could just die. There’ll be no pain if he’s dead.

Die then. The part that was Plasmuis, remembered. His phone dropped out of his numb gripp. He never got his revenge, never got Maddie as his bride. Listening to Daniel weep, the boy broken, withering away. Pathetic, weak.

Anger surged at the sight in front of them, worsened by the pain of the attack. The new ghost lunged, red hot rage coalescing the battling thoughts into a single line, a single drive.

Make the pain go away.

The human Danny never had a chance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The new ghost settled, smoothing out into something like one being. He grew in power and ability. He didn’t worry about things like names. Everyone who really knew where he’d come from was dead. As was his past. His past didn’t matter. (But it did. It did. It still hurt so much. He still missed his parents. His dear Maddie, the oaf Jack. Sam and Tucker. Daniel’s little friends. His sister. Jasmine.)

No, that didn’t matter. None of it mattered. None. All there was, all that matter was his work. He had important work to do. He needed to amass more power so he could take what he wanted, do what he wanted. And what he wanted? For the pain to go away, at a global, no, a universal scale. No one would hurt if they all were dead.

He was never supposed to exist. Really all things considered, he shouldn’t. He was two fragments clinging to each other. (But...that gap, that hole it was still there. It was still there. He shouldn’t have killed Danny Fenton. He missed...he missed Danny. He missed being Danny). He was better without those weak human halves (Lie.) He was never supposed to exist  and yet...here he was. And he would do what he needed to.

Years passed. The new ghost, called The Dark Phantom or just Phantom by his enemies and victims, (The name sickened him.) raged. He killed and maimed and destroyed. Ghosts were warped by his hand. Blood was spilled. The world was ravaged. He tried to destroy humanity but they were resilient. (He should stop. He needed to stop. He didn’t want this.)

He started collecting objects of power. The crown of fire. The ring of rage. He destroyed the Ghost King. The Infinite Realms were under his thumb. 

And then...he discovered the Reality Gauntlet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Dark Phantom floated over the ravaged battlefield. Builds crumbled around him, the smell of smoke and fresh spilled blood filling his nose. He grinned wickedly, clutching his prize in his hands. The humans had fought to keep it from them, they really had. Those idiotic GIW had hid it deep underground years before, their only intelligent action before he’d overpowered them. They’d destroyed all physical and digital records of it.

But he’d found it. He’d found the Reality Gauntlet anyway, killing and destroying anyone and anything in his path. Even now, his greatest human enemy, Valerie Gray the Ghost Slayer, laid dead at his feet. Even she’d fallen in the futile attempt to keep ultimate power out of his hands.But she’d failed. They all had failed. And now he held the glove in his gasp.

The ghost laughed evilly. And now he could have anything, anything at all he wanted. He floated higher, looking towards something at the horizon at the green glow of a ghost shield. Within that barrier laid Amity Park, the last resistance, humanities’ last stronghold. And now he could destroy it. One thought and he could destroy everything.

The ghost flew closer, coming to stop at a hill overlooking the city. It was a rare bare area, free of the usual twisted metal and broken concrete of apocalyptic landscape. Instead, there was just knee length grass. He landed and slid the glove onto his right hand.

Now, how did he want to do this? How did he want to destroy this thorn in his side? Fire? Nuclear explosion? Maybe he should freeze it solid? Not that was stupid. Asteroid impact? Suck it into a black hole? Maybe he should just suck the whole planet into a black hole. The ghost tapped his chin. He had always wondered what that would be like. What did a black hole actually look like in person? What would it be like to fall into one? What would it feel like? Would you really sit at the event horizon and watch all of time for the rest of the universe pass in the eternal moment before you were ripped apart?

The Dark Phantom shivered. There was the space nerdiness again. It did love to rear its head at the strangest moments. He shook his head. He needed to focus on how he would destroy his hometown. The place where he’d grown up, where he’d learned to ride a bike and meet his friends. Where he’d watched the stars and gone to high school and where he’d died the first time. Where his friends and family had died. 

The images flashed in his mind and the ghost pinched his eyes closed. A fiery explosion, concrete and metal, his pounding heart as he stood intangible in the middle of the wreckage. (He should have died with them.) Numb, sitting with the paramedics. Shock, they said. It was weeks before he spoke again. Standing in the rain, the two half ghosts together. Danny hadn’t even had the energy to flinch away when Vlad had put his hand on his shoulder, smuggly smiling down at the boy. Staring at the grave. Graves that were on the other side of the shield.

The ghost shivered, pushing the images away. No, stop that. Stop that. He would destroy them. He’d destroy the graves and the city. The plants that Sam loved so much, all the technology that Tucker tinkered with. Every single last book that his sister, Jasmine, studied. Every, single damn blasted ghost that his parents, his dear friends, were obsessed with. He’d destroy all of it, all of it damn it. He pressed the Gaunlet’s gems in sequence. He’d never have to look at their graves, remember any painful memory ever again.

The Dark Phantom pressed his will into the gems. With his eyes closed, his fractured soul poured its deepest desire into the glove. Power surged out of the Gauntlet, the smell of ozone burning the air. The ghost braced himself. It would happen any second now, the one thing he wanted. It would be his and all of this would be over. But...there was nothing. No heat, no cold, no explosion, no screaming, no crying. Nothing.

Instead, there were five soft thumps in front of him and one behind him. The ghost didn’t dare look yet. Then finally, after what felt like forever, there was a gasp. The ghost opened his eyes and his jaw dropped. There in front of him were five people. Each was sitting on the ground, rubbing their heads. None were looking at him yet. But his eyes flickered between the figures.

This couldn’t….this couldn’t be. It couldn’t...He knew...No...He didn’t….he didn’t. They couldn’t be...these weren’t….but….

Sam? Tucker? He wanted to ask, but the words choked him. He glanced between the two. Sam, who was staring angrily at the ruined environment. Tucker, who was taking his glasses on and off, as if that would change what he was seeing. 

But the image didn’t change, no matter how many times the ghost blinked. Here they were. They were really here, right in front of him. His (Daniel’s little) best friends. These two who’d been with him through it all. Through tests and projects and long days at the arcade and the waterpark. Through the accident. Through the power malfunctions and the late night ghost fighting. (No, he’s been alone. His friends had left him in that hospital to rot.)  Through injuries and secrets and- 

“Madds? Where are we?” Dad’s (Jack’s) cut through. 

The ghost’s eyes widened. It was his Dad. His Dad! The man who read him bedtime stories and chased away the ‘ghosts’ in the closet and hugged him close when he was scared. (That oaf always ate all the food he’d bought from himself! He made a mess of the dormroom.) 

The ghost whined, clenching his head. It ached with the contradictions. Happiness, relief, pure joy, the love of a child for their parents. Dad had taught him how to tie a tie and had driven him to the movies and took him stargazing. Anger, Hatred, The Longing for vengeance. (He stole the love of his life! He couldn’t obey the most basic laboratory safety!)

“I don’t know.” Mom’s (Maddie’s) voice cut through. She rapidly looked side to side, eyes widening with fear. “How did we get here?”

His Mom, his core sang. His mom. The woman who’d kissed his bo-bos and made him cookies and taught him self defense and took him out for milkshakes. (The most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on.)

Head throbbing, the ghost doubled over, feeling sick. No. NO! That was wrong. This was wrong. No.

“Ghost!” Dad (the oaf) suddenly yelled.

The sound of feet stomping towards him. “You! Do you bring us here, ghost?”

The ghost looked up, shakingly meeting the woman’s (beautiful) purple eyes. “Yes...no...I..I..” His insides churned, painfully as he shrunk back from her angry glare. This was his mom. She was supposed to be happy to see him. He’d brought her back. Now he could finally steal her from Jack. The ghost growled. “Shut up.”

“What did you say to me?!” Mom glared, pulling an ectogun from her holster.

“Mo-addie.” The ghost cried, his quickly fragmenting mind switching between the two names. He stumbled backwards as Sam and Tucker finally seemed to notice the adults. 

“Mrs. F!” Tucker exclaimed. 

“Mr. Fenton!” Sam shakily stood up, rushing to the man.

“Sam. Tuck.” The ghost whispered. He was shaking, his knees knocking together. It hurt. His insides hurt. This was...he was wrong. This wasn’t...he wasn’t...this didn’t….

Mom...Maddie...Mom continued pointing the gun at him. “Where are we?”

He groaned, falling to his knees. The flame of his hair flickered erratically.

In front of him, Jack...Dad...Jack...had run to the still unconscious Jazz. He shook her roughly and the girl groaned. Sam and Tucker found the pair, helping the older teen sit up. 

“Who are you?” Mom spat out.

Who? Who...he didn’t….

Jazz blinked, taking in her surroundings. She then turned to the side, her eyes falling on his. Her gaze flickered to the emblem on his chest. Her mouth feels open. “Danny?” She whispered.

His mind stopped. Danny? That was (not) his name. Or it had been. (No it wasn’t). It had been his name. No. He...he missed...he missed that name. (That brat, that fool, pathetic). The ghost whined, his insides revolting. His eyes flickered. Red. Green. Red. Green. The black and white on his suit swirled, shifted.

“Danny.” Jazz repeated, more certain.

The ghost nodded. Then he shook his head. Yes. No. Both. Neither. Both….Yes...No...

“What...what’s happening to him?” Tucker asked fearfully.

What was happening?! What was happening?! He wrapped his arms around his middle as if that could hold him together. Maybe….no…

“Never mind that!” Sam hissed. “What happened to us? How did we get here?”

“The last thing I remember is….” Jazz’s eyes widened with shock and pain. “We...we..all of us, we….”

“You all died.” A voice, a new voice behind him, whispered. 

The ghost tensed, stiffening. He shook torn between wanting desperately to look and being terrified (disgusted) with what he’d see because-

“You all...you all died.” The young male voice choked out again.

That voice, it was so familiar. It was...it was...Rapidly, Jazz, Sam, and Tucker looked between the ghost and the figure standing behind him.

Shakily, Jazz stood, her eyes focusing on the speaker behind the ghost. "Danny?" Her eyes flickered to Dark Phantom (?) again. "You're both…. How are you…?" She stuttered, unable to ask the vital question.

But the ghost knew what she was asking. He knew who was behind him but-

"Jazz." Feet shuffled towards him. "You're...you're alive. You're all alive." A whisper. "I'm...I'm alive."

The ghost felt a sensation, so similar, almost like a heart skipping a beat. Shakily, he started to turn. 

It made sense, in a strange way, for him to have brought back his friends and family (but why would he care about Daniel's little friends or that oaf?) A shake of the head. No, stop that. It did make sense. It did. But bringing HIM back?

Another foot step sounded behind, to his left. The ghost's eyes finally met the speaker's eyes, familiar blue eyes.

Danny, Danny Fenton, identical to the the day he died, stood in front of him. The boy stared at him with a complicated expression. Fear, shock, confusion, awe. It was all there. He blinked, lip twitching. "You….you brought me back." 

His core squeezed and pulsed, his form rippling as pain shot through him. Danny Fenton. He'd brought Danny Fenton (himself, his human half; the insolent brat) back to life. Back to life. Because he never should have killed him in the first place. (Why shouldn't he have?) No! He shouldn't have! That was a mistake! A mistake! The pain was supposed to go away when he destroyed his humanity but it did, it didn't! 

His whole body was smoking, cracks forming along his skin. The ache had just grown, gap yawning wider. Instead of being whole, complete, he...they...were two fragments clinging together for stability, for survival. He wasn't supposed to exist like this.

Questions, demands were buzzing around him but there was no registering the words. In front of him, Danny was rapidly backing away, eyes widening with fear.

Danny. Daniel. An arrogant hiss. He missed Danny, he missed being Danny. He missed being alive. No he didn't, that was ridiculous.

"No!" A roar, two voices screaming at once.

The being writhed, hastily made connection tearing. They weren't supposed to exist like this. So they didn't.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phantom and Plasmius broke apart, flying in opposite directions. The younger ghost skidded across the grass before careening to a stop. He curled in on himself, shaking and whining. 

Around him, alarmed and confused questions rose in volume but he couldn't hear over the brief sound of someone cackling and the sound of his sobs.

Wait, sobs? When had he started crying? He sniffled, a tear falling down his face. Yep, crying. He was crying. He shook, great emotion overcoming him. Horror, sorrow, grief, guilt. He...he remembered everything, all the horrible things he'd done with Plasmius.

"Danny! Danny! Get away from the ghost!" Mom was yelling.

Sneakered feet approached, a lithe figure falling to his knees in front of Phantom. Warm, peach colored hands reached out, grabbing his arms and pulling him into a seated position. 

The emotions intensified, hitting the ghost like a brick wall. A double memory. Killing his human half. Being killed by his ghost half. The first murder of his reign of terror. His botched yet successful suicide. It was excruciating, tearing his soul from both sides.

"I..I…" Phantom gasped, finally meeting the blue eyes through the tears. 

"You and Plasmius...you killed me." Fenton said without accusation.

"I...I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Phantom begged. The words didn't cover it at all, the width and depth of his iniquity, of the travesties he'd committed in his insanity.

"I asked you to." Fenton whispered, looking down guiltily. "I wanted to die." He shifted, pulling Phantom towards him. "Oh god. I shouldn't have split us. I shouldn't have done that."

The ghost didn't resist as Fenton wrapped his arms around him. Instead, he clung to the human as if he would disappear. "I shouldn't...I shouldn't have joined Plasmius. I shouldn't have killed you." His core spasmed, again threatening to fracture under the strain. "I shouldn't...oh god I...I destroyed everything." 

He could barely comprehend what he and Plasmius had done, all he'd been through. And the guilt wared with other feelings at the edge of his perception. Part of him wanted to be hopeful, happy even if it was so abominably selfish. He'd missed being human, being alive. He missed being Danny Fenton. But…. Danny Fenton was in front of him, his still living soul and body pressed up against his chest. He'd brought himself back to life.

And his friends and family. They were behind him. Sam, Tucker, and Jazz were holding his parents back and offering them cursory explanations. For a brief moment, Phantom wondered; how did Jazz know his secret? 

But then the greater issue reared its head. His loved ones didn't know what was going on here. They didn't know the world he'd dragged them into. And now, they didn't need two broken, inconsolable pieces. They needed all of him. They needed Danny.

Phantom breathed, pulling this human self closer as he felt Fenton's agreement. He relaxed, feeling his body become tingling and numb. He let go of tangibly, becoming nothing more than a cloud. He was fog being burned away by the morning light. No, he was a cup of water poured back into the lake he'd come from. He was liquid, spreading out, diffusing into a larger body of water, the newly added molecules indistinguishable from the old. Phantom dissolved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a flash of light. Danny Fenton-Phantom remained frozen on his knees. His arms wrapped around himself as he cried. 

This didn't feel like the last time, with the ghost catcher. Then, when he'd finally come back to himself, there had been relief, the feeling of coming home after a long, tiring day. But now, it still hurt. He was home but he didn't belong here, didn't deserve this. He looked up, heart throbbing with love for his family and friends. He didn't deserve them but they needed him.

Shakily, with great effort, Danny pushed himself to his feet. He met his sister's eyes and she ran to him. Finally the two hugged.

"Jazz." He sniffed.

"Little brother." The girl squeezed him.

"I love you so much." He vowed.

The rest approached, his eyes flickering among each person one at a time. "Sam. Tucker." A pause. Finally. "Mom. Dad."

"Danny." Mom's voice rang with a dozen emotions as she joined the hug. "My baby boy."

"I love you. I love you so much. " Danny repeated as his loved ones surrounded him in an embrace. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I love you. I love you guys. I'm sorry. "

The others muttered much the same, assurances of love and apologies. Danny never wanted it to end but it did as the group pulled apart.

His loved ones looked around, faces pale with worry. Finally Tucker asked. "Dude, what happened here?" 

"Was it the ghosts?" Dad asked, alarmed.

Danny flinched at the words. Guilty, he looked down.

Sam bit her lip. "Was it Plasmius?"

Somehow, the boy curled in on himself even more. "It was me." He muttered.

Danny paled, bracing himself. He expected horror and disgust. Accusation. Hateful sneers. And he would deserve it, all of it. But instead, the group stared at him in disbelief.

"Dude, there's no way." Tucker started.

"You couldn't have done this." Sam denied, perfectly confident.

"I did. It was me." Danny whined. "You all were gone and I was all alone. And I just...I was so angry." He gnawed on his lip. "And I just wanted to stop hurting but it didn't work and I thought…." He trailed off. 

Thinking back, the rationale didn't make sense. He couldn't grasp it, couldn't understand what his, his and Plasmius' motivation had been. The thoughts  seemed to slip through his fingers, refusing to stay in his brain. Danny wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing.

"It couldn't have been just you." Jazz softly said, drawing him out of his thoughts. Her hand gently wrapped around his arm. "We saw what happened with that blue skinned ghost." She whispered, as if this was a tightly kept secret.

Nervously, Danny’s eyes flickered to his parents who looked confused and deeply troubled. It was actually surprising that they hadn’t pointed the ectogun at him again, not after they apparently saw his ghost and human halves fuse back together. Obviously, his sister or friends explained that to them and they somehow believed it, or were too overwhelmed to really process. But the bigger problem? Everyone saw the fusion of Phantom and Plasmius fall apart. Again, he shivered at the memory of being even a part of that monster.

“So you and Plasmius….” Sam trailed off, nose wrinkling in disgust.

That disgust was justified, the very idea repulsive. But he’d been angry and desperate after the split. He, the Phantom part, had wanted to be stronger. Because if he had been, then maybe everyone wouldn’t have died. He’d been so angry at the older half ghost, for all the shit Vlad had put him through. And he’d been in so much pain. Vlad was so cold, so unfeeling. If he could be like that, if he could just be numb and selfish for once-

Danny couldn’t bear to say any of that, instead changing the subject. “Plasmius, where did he go?” He looked around, seeing no trace of the other ghost. His brow wrinkled in sudden alarm. “And where’s the Gauntlet?”

“Gauntlet?” His mom blinked, brow furrowing at the question.

Jazz frowned. “That glove thing? Plasmius took it, when he flew off.”

Danny’s heart skipped a beat. He flew off. With the Gauntlet. And he hadn’t noticed until now. No one had said anything either. And….the other ghost could do anything with the reality altering item.

Shakily, the half ghost pulled away from his loved ones. “I need to go after him.” With a thought, he summoned the rings around his waist. His parents’ eyes both widened in alarm while the others looked concerned. He ignored the looks, transforming and floating off the ground.

Danny took an unneeded breath, looking around for any sign of Plasmius in the distance. Which direction would he have gone? The boy frowned, considering. But he didn’t know. He’d just have to set off in one direction and hope he could find him and get the Gauntlet back. He looked around, flinching at the destruction. He’d used it to bring his loved ones back but he still needed it to-

Something blue and white appeared on the horizon, rapidly approaching. The half ghost flinched, recognizing the figure. He shifted in the air, floating to stand between his friends and family and the approaching ghost. Taking a fighting stance, Danny balled his fists and lit them with ectoenergy.

Moments later, Plasmius materialized in front of him. “Daniel.” He looked down at the boy distastefully. “I see you’ve managed to pull yourself back together.”

The boy frowned. “Yes.” He warily eyed the Gauntlet clenched in the other ghost’s hands. “What are you gonna do with that?”

The vampiric ghost scowled. He silently floated for a moment, before his form seemed to glitch, flickering like a broken TV.  His face briefly scrunched up in pain, nose wrinkling. Then his expression smoothed out, turning into something forcefully neutral. He heavily dropped the glove at Danny’s feet. “Fix this.”

The boy stared down at the Gauntlet, blinking in confusion. He bent down and grabbed it, tightly holding the object in his hand.

Behind him, Tucker asked. “Why didn’t he just use it? Ow! Sam!” Obviously, the girl had elbowed him.

Plasmius said nothing, still scowling while Danny considered. Why didn’t the man use it himself? The other ghost’s image flickered again, causing him to let out a low hiss of pain.

“You can’t.” Danny finally said, realization hitting him. “You’re too unstable.” 

It was the other reason their dark version stayed together. Both halves would have faded away, destabilizing into ectoplasm within minutes. And there would have been no solution. Phantom had killed his other half. And Plasmius’ was somewhere in Wisconsin, too far away to be of any help now.

“Fix this.” The other ghost growled again, looking at something in the distance.

This time, there was a greater weight to the words. It wasn’t just a request to be stabilized. It was a demand for more. To clean up the rest of the mess they’d made together.

Danny slipped on the glove. Looking down, he pressed the gems in sequence. Fix this. He needed to fix this. He could fix the damage, heal the people he’d hurt, bring back those who were gone. But…. he remembered his loved ones’ haunted expressions. The horror with which they looked around the destitute environment. 

The halfa closed his eyes, knowing what he needed to do. He took a breath and pushed his desire into gems. The world went white.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny Fenton woke up in his bed, the remnants of a long nightmare in his mind. The boy groaned, burying his face in his pillow. 

“Danny!” His mom called through the door. “Get up.”

The boy didn’t respond, groaning again. 

At that, the woman opened the door. “Danny. You have to get up. You’re taking the CAT today.”

CAT? His brow furrowed at the information. He was taking the CAT. Slowly, the half ghost sat up. 

“Good.” His mother nodded. “Breakfast is ready downstairs. Go ahead and get dressed.”

After she closed the door, Danny stood. He started getting dressed as she said. His brow still furrowed with confusion. His dream. He’d been dreaming about? He couldn’t quite remember, except it had been horrible. A sense of dread overcame him. And...he needed to fix something. He had to fix something.

Danny pulled on his shirt. He then turned, grabbing his bookbag. It fell open, revealing a manila envelope. Guilt squeezed his heart. The CAT test answers. He picked up the sheet, stuffing it back inside his bag. 

Dread passed through him again, his stomach flopping. He still needed to fix something. But it couldn’t just be about his cheating, right? There was something else.

“Danny! Your father’s going to eat all the bacon if you don’t hurry up.” Mom called.

Danny frowned. Whatever it was, he would figure it out and everything would be okay. Right?

#Danny Phantom #Phic Phight #Phic Phight 2021 #team human #Dan Phantom #TUE #Dark Danny #my fic

[kinglazrus]

Expectations

Prompt from @danphanwritingprompts: Maddie had suspected her youngest child of having some kind of ghostly influence for a while. So she was expecting for them to reveal that. Not admit that he’s trans.

Word count: 1145

Maddie may spend a lot of time down in the lab, maybe too much time, but she can still tell when something is up with one of her children. Especially when it involves ghosts. She's noticed the bruises, and the late nights, and the slipping grades. All troubling signs that have her worried about her youngest. But the tipping point is how her and Jack's gadgets react to Danny.

Every invention that leaves the lab is carefully calibrated to react to ghosts and only ghosts. If Maddie and Jack didn't take the time to perfect this setting their lab would be a minefield of gadgets ready to go off at a moment's notice. Every ectoplasmic sample, every ecto-powered gun, would trigger alarms.

But the Ghost Gabber, the Booo-merang, the Fenton Finder and more all go off around Danny, no matter how much calibrating Maddie does. As much as she hates to admit it, that leaves her with few explanations. But Maddie doesn't want to jump to conclusion, and she doesn't want to frighten her youngest with her assumptions, so she sits back and waits for Danny to come to her.

It takes months before Danny finally approaches her.

"Hey, Mom?"

Maddie, busy stirring the batter for a new cookie recipe, pauses. Something in Danny's tone catches her attention, tells her this isn't the simple, casual hello of a child to their mother, but a nervous call for attention. Maddie places her mixing bowl down on the counter and turns.

Danny doesn't meet her eyes, head ducked, fingers running through unruly hair, not quite short, but the shortest it's ever been. A smart move, if Maddie's suspicions are right. Long hair only gets in your eyes when you're that active. It's the reason she keeps her own hair so short. She takes in Danny's baggy hoodie and long basketball shorts. Her heart aches wondering what bruises they hide.

"Yes, sweetie?" Maddie keeps her voice calm, not wanting to spook Danny.

"There's something... something I want to talk to you about."

"You know you can always tell me anything."

"I know. I think I know. I hope I can. This is kind of really important. Like, really, really important." Danny shakes with nerves, rubbing at eyes that aren't quite watery, but aren't quite clear.

Hoping to make things easier, Maddie kneels and pulls Danny into a hug. "I think I already know what this is about."

Danny stiffens, shoulders going rigid, and mumbles, "You do?"

"I've suspected for a while, after noticing the signs. You must have been so scared, and I'm so sorry if we made you feel like you couldn't tell us," she says, hugging tighter. Danny hiccups and hugs back. "I don't think your father knows, but we can tell him together. We love you no matter what, Danny. You'll always be our little girl."

Danny's breath hitches, and suddenly she's out of Maddie's arms and standing halfway across the kitchen. "What?"

Maddie blinks, stunned, thrown off by the sudden rejection. Confusion clouds her youngest daughter's eyes, and Maddie can't fathom where it came from. "Danny?"

"What do you think I'm trying to tell you?" Danny asks. She stands guarded, arms loosely crossed in front of her, body turned away from Maddie.

Maddie feels nothing short of baffled. What did she get wrong? What did she say wrong? Other than outright confessing, she can't think of a way to breach the sudden gap between them. So that's exactly what she does. "I know you're a ghost."

Danny goes pale as, well, a ghost. The blood drains from her face, shock and fear filling her eyes. Maddie thinks she's going cry. Instead, she grabs her hair and shouts, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Rosaline Danielle Fenton!" Maddie admonishes on instinct. "Language!"

Danny ignores her, instead staring at her hands. "You notice that, but you don't notice this? What the hell! I wasn't even­– how did you–" She breaks off with bitter, incredulous laughter. "Why did you notice that?"

"It wasn't hard once I had all the pieces. You look just like you did before cutting your hair. Although I don't approve of how you've modelled yourself after the ghost boy." Judging by Danny's broken expression, that isn't what she wanted to hear, but it's the only thing Maddie had to say. The only thing she can give Danny is the truth.

"Modelled? What do you..." Danny stills and trails off. Her eyes widen, then narrow. "No, Mom. That's Danielle."

"Yes," Maddie nods, "Danielle Phantom. Using your middle name isn't as sneaky when you already go by it."

"No, Mom. You're not listening. That's not me, that's Danielle. I'm–"

"Honey, it's okay." Maddie doesn't understand why Danny is resisting so much. This should have been easy, but now she feels like she's fighting Danny on something they both know. "You don't have to lie. I'm not mad that you're the ghost girl–"

"I'm not the ghost girl; I'm the ghost boy!" Danny bellow rings out through the kitchen, her voice carrying the trace of an echo as it expands to fill every corner, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. She continues softly, "I'm Danny Phantom. I'm... I'm trans, Mom."

"Oh." Maddie takes a moment to properly process that. "Oh." She can't believe how wrong she got it—sort of. Apparently, she's right after all, and Danny is a ghost. Not the ghost she thought, but the one Maddie and Jack talk about hunting all the time. Guilt washes through her, a thick sludge that clings to her bones and leaves her feeling sick. She said those things in front of Danny. She said them about Danny to Danny.

And she's saying nothing now. She feels the horrified expression on her face, sees the growing despair on Danny's, and realizes he thinks this expression is for him. It is, but not that way. Never that way.

"Do you need a binder?" Maddie asks in a rush. That isn't what she meant to say. She meant to say I love you and I accept you, but the moment she processed those words—I am trans—a hundred thoughts flew through her head about what that meant for Danny, and what he might need from her. "Or hormones? Unless you don't want them. But it's okay if you do, or if you don't."

"Mom."

"Oh, and clothes. You have a lot of Jazz's hand-me-downs. I'm sure that's not what you want to keep wearing."

"Mom."

"I'm sorry, Danny, I– do you still want us to call you Danny? Or is that why you started going by your middle name in the first place? If you want to change it, we can. Anything you need, you father and I can–"

"Maddie!" Danny's tone makes her freeze. She recognizes that tone. Lower than Danny's speaking voice, sounding closer to a pre-pubescent boy, it's the voice Phantom uses with citizens. The voice he uses with Maddie and Jack.

Danny's right in front of Maddie again, posture no longer defensive, although he still looks to be on the brink of tears. But this time there's a tentative smile on his face.

Maddie stops. Finally, she says, "I love you, sweetie. And I accept you. But we still need to talk about your ghost hunting, young la– uh, mister."

Danny throws himself forward and wraps his arms around Maddie's waist, tears of joy spilling from his eyes. "I love you too, Mom."

Running a hand through Danny's hair, Maddie smiles. The ghost hunting talk can wait for now.

#trans danny #fluff #family #maddie fenton #danny phantom #danny fenton #prompt fill #tumblroneshots #danny phantom fanfiction #phanfic

[mymadmedleyw]

I really hope I wouldn’t have any other idea, that would grab my attention away from finishing in fine wtph... until then, here is my other rambling from yesterday (I typed into a document today, but I wrote it yesterday night, so then, yesterday I wrote - sort-of out of nowhere - two shorts, which is wow...)

Sort-of could be counted as filling this @danphanwritingprompts

“What if ghosts really are all evil and have no feelings and after Danny becomes part ghost, his ghostly nature starts taking over his human one. (Basically ghosts are evil sociopaths and Danny is slowly becoming one as a result of his powers)

(Preferably with more emphasis on sociopathy being a mental disorder (ASPD), so Danny starting to be more selfish, pretty emotionless, not caring if someone gets hurt when he’s fighting another ghost, etc.)”

---

Bits of the Past / Being Him (ao3 | fanfiction)

Since Jazz knew Danny was Phantom, she couldn’t say everything changed, but couldn’t say it didn’t.

First of all, she didn’t know anything regarding ghosts or about their behaviours. During the years, growing up, she became deafer and deafer to their parents’ ramblings. And eventually, it turned out as a numb background noise. She even didn’t flinch to any sudden flashes, explosions or literally anything, that daily occurred in their home. But now, she wished if she would have listened. Then, maybe, now she would be capable to understand Danny more.

She couldn’t say she was afraid of him, but all in all, she couldn’t say either she wasn’t. Not after him.

Even if Danny acted like everything was the same, Jazz could identify the resemblances, even taking the question of why she hadn’t noticed until now the vicious demeanour. Maybe it was because she hadn’t been paying much attention to Phantom, but then, soon, she had learned Phantom was in fact her little brother. Then she had counted the Ghost Boy as a hero and she had been worried about him. Unnoticed checking after the remains of the fights, coming up with excuses to their parents, and taking every step to protect and help him. Supporting him from the shadows, until that day.

Sure, he had hugged her, and Jazz still was giving him a hand when it had become clear she knew he was Phantom, but… since him, everything changed. It was hard to admit, but Jazz was afraid of Danny. She tried to convince herself, that her little brother wasn’t changing – more like, being Phantom hadn’t started to change him – but that would have been a lie. And since that, she questioned everything.

It might have been the fear, the paranoia, or the side-effects of those double electroshock that day, but her mind couldn’t rest. The more she examined Danny, the more cruelty appeared. First, she tried to calculate it as tiredness, impatience and the necessary change in behaviour when he was Phantom, but Jazz just saw more of him in Danny. Even if, technically she hadn’t got to know him better. But those minutes had been enough…

Acting like everything was the same was hard, especially that Danny was eluding from her since they had had that short talk about him, being Phantom. But somehow Jazz felt it was about Danny must have sensed in a way, she had begun to realise something was not okay with him.

No matter how much she was on to behave as his sister at daytime, the all came back along with that picture at night at double force when she was alone. It was hard to hide, but she had nightmares, that after two days merged with the question: what if Danny was still him? Or, worse, what if it wasn’t him, but Danny would turn into him? To the one who had shocked him with those- with those red eyes, mirroring nothing but harm?

Since Jazz had learned Danny was Phantom, she perceived more from their parents’ ramblings. Ghosts were nothing but a post-human consciousness, unable to feel, unable to any human emotion, just as remorse, care or anything. Jazz debated with them mentally, keeping the picture of Danny in front of her, as a reminder, telling Phantom was else, because Phantom was Danny. But what if Phantom slowly was changing her brother, to then, ten years later, became him?

Jazz couldn’t escape from that theory. Not when Phantom fought with ghost cruelly, not when Danny lashed out at her, as she tried to near him, and-

What she had done? She had just let him in!

Jazz couldn’t tell the cold realisation grabbed her out of the thoughts, or the suddenly felt heavy weight, landing in her face.

“Uh-” Jazz took off the object, recognising it. “Did you just throw me with a pillow?” she pointed, stunned as she put together.

“I asked you something and you weren’t listening.” the other explained. Jazz pushed herself up to a half-sitting position, and sent back the nice gift. But against her, he just caught it without any effort. Jazz huffed but straightaway gazed to the taller figure in the darkness, spotting as he was preparing for another one.

“Don’t you dare.” Jazz told him. „It’s ten.” she cleared, like that could mean anything to him. “If you are bored, I told you, there are options.”

An unmistakable scoff was heard from the other side of the room. “I won’t ever read one of your stupid books. Or fill out your even more stupid questionnaire, Jazz.”

“Then occupy yourself with something.” Jazz said, laying back to the bed. “I’m sure you could find out something over my options. Just let me sleep.”

“You weren’t sleeping.” the older version of her brother called her out. “That’s why I tried to communicate, but you didn’t pay any attention.”

“Maybe, I was sleeping.” Jazz debated.

“You weren’t. Don’t try to convince me about the opposite.”

“Fine!” Jazz rolled her eyes, instantly forgetting by this arguing where her mind had been stuck a moment ago. Because just as during daytime, she forgot everything about him, about the ghost impersonating her brother a few days ago, but right now, she just couldn’t equal the two. The ghost with this current person.

“What you wanted to ask?” Jazz enquired instead, before her thoughts could return to the shrieking doubting thoughts, that what she was doing now, hiding him, a wall away from Danny, was just wrong. And a hasty stupid decision.

“Hm?” he asked after a moment as he finished with the readjusting of his made-up sleeping place, making it comfortable with that other pillow too. “Oh.” he said then. “Not important.” was it mumbled.

For a second, Jazz opened her mouth to push it further, because if he had thrown her with a pillow, it must have been something important, but then she gave it up instead, feeling her eyelids heavier and heavier. And much to say, it was an eventful day – or more like the afternoon needed to be rested out…

“Good night,” Jazz breathed out then to the darkness. The elder version of his brother firstly just hummed, but then let out a hardly noticeable murmuring, wishing her a good sleep, so then Jazz closed her eyes.

First time, after that, now the eyes again appeared, but this time, instead of that red gaze, she was seeing the blue, identical to her little brother’s as he had been looking at her during taking care of her hand. The expressions on his face were annoyed, but the bright eyes had a weird shine, that Jazz just couldn’t equal with the murderous ones. In that, there had been fear, seeking for any sign of hope.

To that memory, Jazz unconsciously ran her nails on the covered injury, just to then, realising what she was doing, as she let out a hiss, scrubbing the cuts uncomfortably.

“Jazz, don’t touch that.” came the lecturing voice. Jazz grumbled to the tone, turning to her other side, leaving it without any note. But she couldn’t cease to stare at her bandaged palm. He was so different… she couldn’t tell how, but as she recalled the all afternoon, the question she had thought she missed slipped into her mind, like he would have taken it again. If you know all along, I was Phantom, why didn’t you say anything?

#danny phantom #wtph related #dan phantom #jazz fenton #botp related #prompt filled #danphanwritingprompts #my stuff