#phic phight 2020

[sailor-toni]

Cost Chapter 3

You can also read this on Wattpad, AO3, and FF.net

“Repeat that but slower,” Danny said. 

“Dad is currently arm wrestling Fright Knight on the kitchen table, and Dad is winning,” Jazz said as slowly as she could. 

“W-H-Y?” 

“It’s Dad, do you really want to know why?”

“What is Mom doing?” 

“Egging Dad on,” 

“Mom… you’re supposed to be the smart one here,” Danny groaned.

“I can see why you left so fast,” Sam said.

“I don’t! That sounds awesome! Did you get any pics?” Tucker asked, sliding into the passenger seat. 

“No of course not!” 

“Aw, that would’ve been a perfect meme,” Tucker yelled. Jazz rolled her eyes and kicked the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle, or F.F.G.A.V into gear. Tucker flew backwards into one of the cushions as it took off through the Ghost Zone. 

The Far Frozen was a barren wasteland floating on a glacier through the endless green void of the afterlife. A dense and harsh blizzard obscured its true size from any passersby, and only those with an ice core themselves could penetrate the surface. If one without an ice core managed to come through the barrier, they would find nothing but ice and snow awaiting them. Each secret and warm water spring had been hidden under a mountain of ice and snow. The folks of the Far Frozen knew the way of course; they traveled through undergrowth tunnels to reach warm skin soothing hot springs and underground forest full of strange glowing creatures. The rabbits tasted the best, at least according to Danny they tasted the best. 

      As the F.F.G.A.V approached the blizzard barrier, the wind shook its sides, creating an unpleasant vibrating noise throughout the hull. Layers of ice began to build on the F.F.G.A.V’s windows. The frost created small intertwining patterns on the round porthole windows. 

“They should really make it easier to get in here. Like you should be able to clap your hands and have the blizzard open like the red sea,” Tucker said. 

“I wish. Frostbite says it's not them who created the blizzard, but some old fart from the old ages. And he’s not around anymore, so no one knows how to turn it off,” Danny said.

    As they moved further in, the F.F.G.A.V’s display began to turn bright red with warnings and caution signs. Jazz gave the trio a worried look.

“It’s okay this happens every time,” Tucker brushed her off. 

    They emerged from the storm into a bright blue sky and sea of white. The ghostly tundra stretched out before them, the snow void of any disturbance on its smooth surface. There were tall peaks in the distance, and as they got closer they could see that these peaks were built by hand and not grown naturally. The towering structure was full of deep windows and intractable carvings. At the peak’s base was a small village surrounded by pillars of ice. The cloth tents were decorated in bright blue and orange paint. 

Jazz landed the F.F.G.A.V on the outer edge. Several of their villagers took note and began to run towards them. Their arms up, waving at the teens inside. 

“Are they friendly?” Jazz asked.

“Yes, overly so,” Danny said. “Here take this, it’s like negative 15 out there.” 

“Thanks,” Jazz threw on the oversized orange parka. “Is this Dad’s?”

“I think so. It’s all that we have left,” Sam said. Her and Tucker had stashed some clothes in the vehicle as they both wore winter gear in their own secondary colors. Jazz groaned and put on her father’s gear. Everything was too big and in a bright neon orange. 

Outside was an ass blazing cold, Tucker wrapped his scarf over his face to protect it from the cold, but you could still see bits of his skin changing color from the wind. Jazz sank into the snow, her boots instantly filled with the ice. Danny on the other hand was fine. He wore not extra clothing and walked on top of the snow just like the other snow yetis who wore nothing but capes, loincloths and beads. You could hear them before you saw them. And the clanking of beads crashed upon Danny, as a dozen small yetis launched themselves upon him. Their voices and barks overlapped each other into a jumbled mess of noise. 

“Great One! I am so sorry. Snowball get off him! Icelicker stop drooling on the Great One! Cold-Winter stop licking the Great One!” A female yeti who towered over the group ran up to them, her fur was braided and frozen to her ice horns like silver rope. She wore a deep blue cloak and around her belt was a bag of scrolls. 

“It’s okay! They are just excited,” Danny laughed. He wrestled with the yeti pups, tossing a few in the air and catching them like stuffed animals. The Yeti Pups laughed and yapped along. Jazz pulled out her phone to take a photo. 

“That’s so cute,” She whispered. 

“Thank you Great one for humoring these Pups but we need to go back to our lesson,” The female yeti sternly said. 

“Oh! I’m sorry. Hey guys you have to go back to class,” Danny began to pull them off his legs. 

The Pup named Snowball groaned. His white fluffy fur obscured his face and small ice horn nubs. “We don’t wanna go back!” The other Pups joined in. 

“All we are doing is listening to stories! It’s so boring! Can you and your friends play with us?” A second drooling pup whined. The Pups turned to the group with large puppy dog eyes (Snowball pulled his fur back to show off his large baby blue eyes) and they began to whine in unison. 

“I’m sorry but we have to go see Frostbite,” Jazz said. 

“Yeah and you should go to class,” Tucker said. 

The teacher gave the group a small smile before she dragged the small Snow Yeti’s pups back to their classroom. The pups groaned and moaned as they went. 

“They were so darn cute!” Jazz squealed. 

“I know, it warms my goth heart,” Sam said. 

“Maybe I can convince Dad to get us a dog,” Jazz said. 

“You know Dad will dress the poor mutt up in Fenton work clothes and gear, and then parade it around,” Danny replied. 

“You’re right,” with that the four teenagers made their way inside the mountain. 

The inner cave system of the Snow Yeti’s mountain was not a random series of tunnels but an elaborate circular grid dug into the ice itself. With each level having its own purpose. The bottom levels had a massive waterfall and smaller saunas scattered about, the upper levels were storefronts and workshops. Above those were the Yeti’s homes; each house was carved into the ice like hobbit holes. Their round doors were covered by rich tapestries that displayed the family’s history in bright colors. 

Cauldrons of glowing gems lit up the icy tunnels without melting the ice. In the center of each floor was a fountain or well. It was a wonder of architecture and culture. Everything from door frames, to the supporting arches had carvings from their long history. Long battles waged along the rim of the fountains, and discoveries were carved into the walls of the trader’s stalls. The story moved forward as they made their way through the mountain.  

Near the peak was a carving of Danny's victory over Pariah Dark, his ecto-suit was carved like a set of glowing armor. Danny scoffed at the effigy of himself. He wished he stood gloriously over the former king, with a smirk wide across his face, instead of blood rushing down his head as he forced the door of the sarcophagus closed. The ecto suit strained his body to the limits and Pariah pushed them further. He didn’t feel like a hero when he closed that damn thing, nor did he one afterwards. The cheers of humans and ghosts alike boomed through the streets like a marching parade, while Fenton laid in his bed rocking back and forth. Jazz only knew so much, the rest was up to his body to fix everything that was broken. His sister sat at his bed all night with pain pills and kind words.

“Danny?” Tucker nudged him. 

“Yeah?” Danny said. Tucker gave him a look. “What?” 

“I don’t think they got your face right,” He pointed to the carving.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. They didn’t get your good side.”

“Oh, thanks Tuck,”

“You’re welcome. Now let's catch up to the girls,” 

Danny let his gaze cross over the craving one last time before he ran up the icy steps. 

---

Near the peak, the home of the chief was nestled in the rocks and ice of the mountain. It was large enough to hide the entire village inside, with small windows, and statues of the chiefs of old standing around its sides. Each statue held its arms up, lifting a glowing ball of icey blue to the ceiling. The light combined into one large carving of a seal. The light pulsing through the cracks and edges. 

“Do you guys know what that does?” Jazz asked.

“I think it’s the thing that keeps the storm going,” Danny said. 

“You would be right, Great One!” Another Snow Yeti called out to them. He was gigantic compared to them, with giant horns made from ice, and a skeletal arm encased in a thick coat of ice. His under bite let his sharp carnivore teeth stick up above his upper lip, glistening in the frozen light. All of this was undone by his soft voice. “Hello to your companions as well! It is always great to see you, though I do not believe I have met you,” he bowed to Jazz. “I am Frostbite Chief of the Snow Yetis.” 

“Hello sir,” Jazz bowed to him. “I am Jazz Fenton, older sister of Danny, or the Great one?” He looked to her brother for help. 

“Lady Fenton, of course. The Great One has told us a lot about you,” 

“He has? If I may, can you tell me what he told you about me?’ 

“You know it’s great that you two get to meet, but we actually came here to ask you about a ghostly artifact,” Danny cut in. 

“Well I can take a look, but I am only an expert in items within the Far Frozen domain. So, you’ll have to forgive me if I am unable to give you the answers you seek,” 

“Well, um, I think this will be an exception. Tuck?” Danny motioned to Tucker, who pulled the black glassy ball from his coat pocket. 

“Danny broke it but after it showed us the vision we found whole again,” Tucker gave the ball to Frostbite.

 The chief expression darkened. “Where did you find this?” 

“In the back of Ghostwriter’s library, why what-” Danny was cut off with a curt, 

“Quickly get inside,” Frostbite tucked it into his robe. “I imagine you have many questions.” 

#danny phantom #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #chapter 3 #cost #story #phic phight 2020

[bibliophilea]

From the wip game, whats 50 Ways to Not Learn Ghost Speak?

(for this tag game)

This one is based on a 2020 Phic Phight prompt by @a-closet-emo, and also a throwaway line @currentlylurking put in their phic, “Still Better Than Google Translate”!

The line in question: “I tried looking stuff up online, but then there was that whole thing with Technus and the duolingo owl escaping the internet, so that was a bust.”

The prompt in question: “As Wesley Weston hurtles in his mud-stained tutu and matching tiara towards the nearest building and his fate as a smear on said building’s side, he reflects on the ridiculous day he’s been having.”

I don’t have anything written prose-wise at the moment - just summary!

Technus unleashed Duolingo Owl upon the world

Wes catches the Owl

Wes makes a deal with the Owl: teach him ghost speak in exchange for freedom

Owl goes on about all these different sounds from all these different languages Wes needs to master

Owl puts Wes through a training regimen which, oddly, includes some ballet dancing. Which he can do, grudgingly - he quit ballet and took up basketball to be more normal, and he doesn’t like it when other kids bring up his ballet days. He wishes the Owl would quit poofing him into a tutu and tiara for the work - his dad has nearly caught him like three times today - but at least the Owl lets him keep this embarrassing ordeal in his room.

That is, until the ballet-parkour training.

And that’s what I’ve got! It’ll be phun to turn this into a fully fledged ridiculous story!

#danny phantom #wes weston #duolingo owl #wip stuff #sailor-toni #ask #thankee for the ask! #i just really love the idea of the duolingo owl escaping the internet XXD #bib speaks #not a q

[dp-marvel94]

Your turn.

Do you remember "Summoning" ?

Yes! I wrote that one for Phic Phight 2020. Jack and Maddie try to summon the ghost king and get Danny instead.

#Danny Phantom #my post

[minty-bunni]

Part 21 Fic Recommendations!

Way late, but late is better than never. I tried to give this list a bit of variety when it comes to authors. There are a lot of really fun AUs in this one and a few creepy/feral Danny fics as well.

Danny gets offered a job.

Danny dies (again) and reflects on things.

Anyone order vaguely terrifying Danny with a side of school mascot shenanigans? Turns out that Danny terrifies outsiders and his classmates use this to their advantage.

Danny is a little feral in this one. It was a really cool fic fill for phic phight 2020. The GiW are involved and Jazz is the younger sibling here.

Danny gets hit with a new invention and now has to go to school as both Phantom and Fenton. Will this end in an identity reveal or can Danny keep his secret safe?

Something strange is up with Danny and his parents call Vlad in to babysit. It goes better than expected.

Danny asks Val about hobbies.

Halfa Val! I love the idea of halfa Val and how stories involving that have her face her whole ghost hatred issues thing.

Danny and Star as the focus with a side of identity reveal. Don't remember the entire thing well, been a while since I read it.

This one was super cool! A group of students try to summon the ghost king in order to find a way to undo an unfortunate wish.

#danny phantom #fic recs #fic recommendations #fanfic rec

[kinglazrus]

1 and 5 :D

1. Do you have a word-count goal for the upcoming year?

I don't have a goal for the year at large, but I'd like to get back into writing a little bit every day. Last year I saw @imekitty posting daily word counts and I think I'd like to try something like that, maybe starting in February. I'd keep a small goal, like 200 words a day minimum, if I did it.

5. Which WIP is first on your list to complete this year? Will you post a snippet?

I have so many wips I want to put out this year; I don't know if I could choose a number one. Buuuuuuut... there's this one fic I started for phic phight 2020 but never finished because I realized it would turn into a big fic. The prompt was Danny becoming the grim reaper, submitted by @browa123 . Here was the opening for that fic:

There are few beings, both living and dead, that are as old as Clockwork. He remembers how empty everything was before the realms started taking proper form. There were only two, in those days, rather than the infinite, ever-growing expanse of realms that exist now or will exist further in time. Two realms on either side of a single door. Both were vast, dark, and empty, remaining that way for millennia. Until, one day, something changed.

In the realm that would one day be known as Universe, that would contain all things truly living, there was a grand cataclysmic birthing of stars and planets of every kind. One moment there was nothing, and then suddenly there was everything, and Clockwork could see it. At that point, "was" did not exist, only "is" and "will be."

On the other side of the door, in the realm that would be Aether, that would be Infinite, that would be the Ghost Zone, there was no bang. Instead, there was a pebble in a pond. A ripple of change pushing outward, growing into cascading waves. A maelstrom of creation tearing down the boundaries of what did not exist. A never-ending tide that would continue to surge outward for all of eternity. From that moment, Clockwork knew everything that would, could, should, and must never be.

Fanfic asks

#ask game #quishaphantom #q-gorgeus #💜💜💜 #the king answers #unbecoming #if I tagged the wrong browa I'm sorry

[shamelesslymkp]

REC: Marsalias - Three for the Price of One

URL: https://ift.tt/G7M2ORT by @five-rivers They had only meant to summon ONE ghost... (Words: 2,827) Part 13 of Phic Phight 2020 !!!fandom, !!fic, |site:archiveofourown, +fandom:danny.phantom, ::rating:teen.and.up.audiences, ~author:marsalias, character:danny.fenton, character:danielle."dani".phantom, character:vlad.masters, ::category:gen, \no.archive.warnings.apply, ~ao3:cult, ~ao3:summoning, ~ao3:some.small.amount.of.blood

click here for mkp's pinboard and more fic recs!

#i eat fic for breakfast #fic recs #via:pinboard #schrödinger's content warnings #queue me up scotty #goddamnit ifttt

[five-rivers]

Adoption

Based on a prompt by @fabnamessuggestedbytumbler for the Phic Phight! An excuse for Lost Time fluff? Don't mind if I do...

.

.

.

The Ghost Zone had a legal system. A court system. A prison system. A police system. A set of established rules. There were even lawyers.

In theory.

In reality the courts (Observants) refused to look at anything that wasn't world ending. Every group had their own, private prison. The police made up their own rules and, even then, broke them regularly. The actual rules had gone several hundred years without an update and referred to places, organizations, and customs that no longer existed. The lawyers were all clinically depressed. That's what happens when there's no active, unifying head of state for hundreds of years.

Still. Every so often a sufficiently foolish ghost, possessed of a brave purpose, would attempt to navigate the ruins of the legal system. Few made it out alive.

(True, being ghosts, they didn't necessarily go into it alive, but it's the thought that counts.)

But those who did make it out (metaphorically) alive, did so with prizes... well, not great enough, but something enough to convince others to make the attempt. Hence Clockwork's current location and headache.

"Sign the paper, Walker," snapped Clockwork.

"That would be against the rules," said Walker, leaning back in his stupid chair. Clockwork's nonexistent spine hurt just from looking at it.

Maybe he should give himself a spine, just so he'd have a reason to feel this way.

"How," he began, "would it be against the rules? This form needs to be signed by a law enforcement official that has seen or witnessed conclusive evidence the child in question being abused by their natural parents. That is you."

"Yes, but the law enforcement officer must first get a warrant approved by an appropriate court in order to collect such evidence," countered Walker.

"Not if the official came across the evidence or act of abuse while pursuing a different case or simply following standard operating procedure. You saw them shoot at him. His mother put a gun to his head. Have mercy, Walker. I know you don't like him, but he is a child who needs guidance. Not a criminal."

"He's a criminal in my books," said Walker.

"What he did was hardly a crime."

"Jailbreak is a crime!"

"Not if one is unjustly imprisoned," said Clockwork. "He was attempting to remove the foreign object." No matter that possessing material-plane items wasn't an actual crime.

"He let others escape!"

"And what were they imprisoned for?"

Walker grumbled. "Some of them are dangerous, and even he knew that," said Walker, nodding at the file spread over his desk.

"Consider it a cry for help. While you were watching him," stalking him, Clockwork did not say, "on the material plane, did he really strike you as criminally inclined? Or perhaps he was simply confused and scared? One thousand years is a very long time in human terms. The targets of his Obsession would have died. Even if he did commit a misdemeanor, he would have rightly been granted clemency, or at least had his sentence deferred."

Walker frowned.

"That's not what this is about, is it? You covering up a mistake?"

"No," said Walker.

Clockwork blinked, quickly running through potential futures. "No one will care that you crossed the veil without authorization. No one who can do anything about it, in any case."

"There'll be an investigation if I sign that there piece of paper. What's the big deal, anyway? Like you said, humans don't live that long. Just wait fifty years."

"They almost ended him," said Clockwork. "He's a child. Do you really want that on your conscience? With the knowledge that you could have stopped it?"

Sighing, Walker picked up his pen.

.

Danny went to school. Mainly, he went because he didn't know what else to do. He needed the routine, even if the routine was a lie and he felt like trash.

"You could have stayed," whispered Sam, as his hand inched towards the bandages on his chest for the fifth time that morning. "They wouldn't have noticed you."

Danny shook his head. His hand shook more. He put it back in his lap. "It wouldn't have been right. Besides, I need a passing grade in this class, right?" He couldn't get another F, or his parents would kill him, except- except- except-

They had already tried to kill him.

Everything had gone so much worse than he had ever imagined- No. That wasn't quite right. It had gone- It had...

At least he hadn't been cut open.

(Much.)

"Mr. Fenton?"

Danny jumped, banging his knees painfully on the underside of his desk. He looked up, wildly, tensing himself to flee, only the fact that he was currently human keeping his powers from activating.

(Well, that and... what had been done to him.)

When had Mr. Lancer gotten there?

"What?" he asked, breathlessly.

"Are- Are you alright, Mr. Fenton?"

"I'm fine," Danny said. He wasn't. His ghost half was urging him to go find a nice, dark, quiet, safe corner to hide in, preferably one in the Ghost Zone, his heart was hammering out of his chest, he'd spent the night not-sleeping in one of the guestrooms in Sam's house, and that was before even touching on his injuries.

He forced a smile. Mr. Lancer was one of the few teachers who hadn't given up on him, which was alternately touching and frustrating.

"You look sick," said Mr. Lancer. "Are you sure you don't want to call home?"

Danny's heart stuttered, his core painfully cold. "I'm sure," he said.

"Today is a project day," said Mr. Lancer. "You wouldn't be missing anything in this class, and I can talk to your other teachers."

"No, I'm fine."

.

The legal clerk for the family court was the kind of ghost who seemed to have fused with her role. The sleeves and collar of her shirt melded seamlessly with her skin. Her nails were brass pen nibs. The lenses of her glasses were part of her face.

She lived in either the basement or the attic of this particular building, depending on how one oriented themselves, among barely-organized stacks of books and papers. There were parchment scrolls and stone tablets, too, the later often re-purposed as elements of the room's furniture. Green-marbled filing cabinets grew out of the walls, and electronic somethings glittered out of the shadows.

The clerk had been reviewing Clockwork's paperwork for literal days. Rather, she would have been, if Clockwork hadn't surreptitiously dropped a time medallion around her neck and stopped time.

She hummed, thoughtfully. "In this document, you are using the pronoun tsai to refer to the adoptee. Are you certain you don't mean tusui? Or perhaps chahe?"

"Absolutely," said Clockwork. The intimation that he wasn't fluent in nchabhatsi was insulting. On the other hand, the requirement for that particular piece of paperwork to be in the language was also, in his opinion, rather ridiculous. Many ghosts, especially the recently dead, did not know nchabhatsi.

"The adoptee is liminal?"

"Yes," said Clockwork.

"Hmm." She stood up and flew from her desk to an inverted bookshelf anchored to the ceiling. From a box she took a huge sheaf of papers, and blew an amount of dust from them that was unhealthy even to a ghost. "It has been a while since we used these," she said, giving Clockwork a faded-ivory smile. "You'll need to fill these out and have them notarized by the proper officials before you can proceed. Liminal spirits are so rare, after all! They require special care. Oh!" Her hands fluttered. "And I'll have to get in contact with our liminality expert. That may take some time."

"If you can give me their name," said Clockwork, "I will take care of it." He gingerly took the stack of slightly-decayed paper. Had it really been so long since a partly-human child had been adopted? Probably.

"Oh, you're such a dear," said the clerk, not noticing the sudden absence of the medallion around her neck. "But that paperwork won't do itself, and-"

"It's done," said Clockwork. Fulfilling some of the new requirements had been more challenging than others and avoiding a paradox had taken considerable self-control, but what good were his temporal abilities if he couldn't use them for personal gain now and again? None at all.

"Ah," said the clerk.

.

Familiar, and very loud, voices spilled from the hallway near the office. Danny, one hand on his locker, trying to remember his combination, froze like a deer in headlights. His heartbeat picked up, his core buzzed frantically. He couldn't move. Grey crept in along the edges of his vision.

"... not him. It was never him! He's dead-"

"Mrs. Fenton, Mr. Fenton, I'm not sure what you're getting at, here, but your son has been at school all day, and we-"

"A ghost killed him and took his place! It's been playing a sick game with us this whole time!"

"Danny would never have gotten grades like this. We should have noticed the lower intellect right away, if nothing else."

"That's-" spluttered Mr. Lancer. "You- Daniel's work is exemplary, what little of it he turns in. I'm going to have to ask you to go back to the office-"

"No! Not until that piece of ectoplasmic scum is wiped from the face of the Earth!"

"Danny," said Tucker, much closer. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Right. Ghostly super hearing. Tucker and Sam, staring at him with concern, couldn't know.

"They're here," he managed, the words like sandpaper in his throat.

Sam uttered a word that would have sent her mother into a screeching fit. "We need to get you out of here," she said putting a hand on his back and pushing him down the hall.

"I'll run interference," said Tucker. "Make sure they can't follow you in the GAV."

"Good thinking," said Sam.

"Call me when you're safe," said Tucker, peeling off, presumably to hack the GAV.

"Danny, breathe," ordered Sam, as she propelled him through the double doors at the back of the school. "We're going to get you through this."

.

Clockwork had resorted to trapping the legal complex in a massive temporal bubble. Not the neatest solution, true, and it seemed to encourage the various functionaries, regulators, and bureaucrats to take even more time to process even the simplest request, but at least it would keep Daniel's suffering in the meantime to a minimum.

However, that didn't change the fact that he had been bouncing back and forth between the various floors of the building like a ping-pong ball, never getting closer to the solitary family court judge, for well over a subjective year. He was exhausted, frustrated, and he missed Daniel.

"You will be able to provide steady, stable access to the adoptee's preferred haunt?" asked his present interviewer.

"Yes," said Clockwork, dully. The room was ringed with runes that prevented deception of any kind.

"You will be able to provide shelter adequate for both his ghostly and human form?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. He had answered these questions so many times before.

"You have taken the mandated class on liminality?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. He was beginning to understand why other ghosts just gave up and sought extralegal solutions.

"You are aware of a liminal spirit's developmental and emotional needs?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. This was just so boring.

"And are you able to satisfy those needs?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. If only it would end.

The interviewer nodded. "Then we're done here," he said.

"Ye- What? Does that mean I can see the judge?" asked Clockwork, hopefully.

"No. That means that your adoption motion can move on to the next stage," said the interviewer. "Our liminality expert will examine your arrangements and determine whether or not they are sufficient, and we will contact law enforcement to follow up on your claim that the adoptee is being abused."

Clockwork bit back a groan. At least he was making progress.

.

They cut through the empty field behind the school, angling back toward the surrounding neighborhood. The grass came up to their chests, except where there were holes, mounds, and gouges from ghost fights. When there was one in the school, Danny tried to bring it out here, so people wouldn't get hurt.

He wasn't often successful.

Sam led the way. Danny felt- He felt ashamed. If his powers were working, he would be able to fly them away, or at least turn them invisible. This would all be so much easier. He could have taken care of himself, and Sam and Tucker wouldn't get in trouble, because they would definitely get in trouble for this. But he couldn't.

He couldn't even convince his parents that he was himself. He had to screw that up, too.

Before, he had thought, worse case scenario would be that they'd try to 'fix' him, to remove his ghost half, or maybe they'd think he was overshadowed. At least, he'd convinced himself of that, convinced himself that dissection would be off the table if he ever told them, that they would still love him. Maybe they might still want to do tests, but they'd love him. They wouldn't want to hurt him.

But he had been so, so wrong. They didn't believe him. They thought he had killed himself, replaced himself.

They had tried to cut him open.

(They succeeded.)

His core shuddered at the memory.

At least, though, there hadn't been any ghost attacks today. He wouldn't have been able to fight anything stronger than the Box Ghost. Heck, he might have lost to the Box Ghost. Like this, he would have to leave the ghosts to his parents, Valerie, or the GIW, none of which were particularly good options for the hunters, the ghosts, or the innocent bystanders of Amity Park.

His core pulsed uncomfortably at the thought of any of them getting hurt, including his parents.

He flinched. His core had been very jumpy, very active ever since... it... happened. Usually it only did this while he was in ghost form, and was otherwise almost dormant.

"Are you okay?" asked Sam. "Is it hurting?" She was the one who had bandaged him up last night.

"We can't stop now," said Danny.

Sam flattened her lips. "That isn't an answer. As soon as we get somewhere quiet, I'm checking you out, okay?"

"Yeah," said Danny.

When they reached the short fence, Sam gave him a boost to get over and they made their way into the suburb. There was a small library branch down the road a ways. It had a small family bathroom that Sam and Tucker had patched Danny up in before. It would be a good place to regroup before trying to put as much distance between them and Danny's parents as possible.

"We could take the city bus, I think," said Sam. "There's a stop outside the library. Maybe we could go to Elmerton?"

"Maybe," said Danny.

"Any ETA on Jazz since last night?"

Danny shook his head. "She couldn't get a flight. She's taking a Greyhound. Won't be here 'til-"

There was a beep. Danny stopped breathing. That could have been anything, a phone, a watch, a car, something from a building, but something about it tickled at Danny's brain as wrong.

"There is a ghost twenty feet in front of you."

The whine of a charging ectogun-

Sam slammed into his side, and they both fell. Danny felt the cut on his chest begin to bleed again, and he curled around it protectively. It hurt so much more than it should, and Danny wondered if that was because ghosts were ultimately shaped by their minds and his was in so much pain right now.

His parents had just shot at him. From behind. Not ghost him, Phantom him, either. Human him.

They hated him. All of him. Not just half of him.

His ghost sense went off. Because things could always get worse for Danny and the universe apparently hated him.

He struggled into a sitting position and blinked, confused. There were people surrounding him, protecting him, standing between him and his parents. Sam was shouting. Danny couldn't make out what she was saying, what anyone was saying, not with his heart pounding in his ears.

"Kid," said one man, shaking his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Danny considered that. "No," he said, finally.

The man pulled a phone from his pocket and began saying something about calling the hospital. Normally, Danny would be worried about that, but he was looking for the ghosts. It was possible one of the more benevolent spirits that haunted Amity Park had happened across the scene, but, somehow, Danny doubted it.

His ghost sense went off again. He whimpered.

His people were in danger.

Ghosts usually came for him (he was leading them here, an evil ghost, causing all this trouble, murderer), or at least attacked him first, to get rid of him as a threat. He staggered to his feet. He had to get away. Still clutching his chest, he turned and bolted.

Almost at once, he was surrounded by ghosts in police gear. Walker's goons. Definitely stronger than the Box Ghost. Still, he was going to at least try to fight. He put his fists up. Maybe some of them would be dumb enough not to phase out of the way of his stupid human punches.

Then Walker himself descended from the sky.

"Daniel," he said, stiffly.

"Walker," returned Danny. A small part of him was grateful that Walker hadn't called him Phantom and spilled his secret. It was strange, but no ghost had ever seemed particularly inclined to do that, despite how easy it would have been.

"We have a court order to take you into custody," said Walker. "Someone wants to ask you a few questions."

Danny decided today's mood was 'pointless bravado and defiance.' "And why would I want to come with- whoa."

As Danny talked, Walker had taken a piece of paper with strange symbols written on it in green ink out from the inside pocket of his jacket. The symbols made his head spin... Or maybe that was just his injuries catching up with him. His left leg was trembling, and he wasn't sure how much longer it would hold out.

He shook his head, trying to clear it, and focused on Walker. "I have no idea what that says."

Walker sighed. "Just come quietly, son. Make it easier on yourself."

Danny swallowed his discomfort at being called 'son.' "You won't hurt anyone else?" he asked.

"I'm just here for you."

There really wasn't much of a choice. Whether he went quietly or got himself beaten up even more, Walker would win and carry him off. Anyone could see that. Besides, ghost prison might be a better alternative than getting dissected by his parents.

He raised his hands in front of him, wrists together. "Go ahead, then," said Danny, flatly.

Walker nodded, and the goons converged on him. The cuffs they put around his wrists glowed green, but they had weight in a way most purely ghostly things didn't. Danny doubted that he'd be able to phase his way out of them, human or ghost. Then they picked him up and the whole swarm started to fly away.

.

"Yes, this is my lair," said Clockwork. "I can, however, duplicate and be both here and at the secondary residence I acquired expressly for the purpose of ensuring continuity of Daniel's human life."

The 'liminality expert' grunted. "He's still been here, though, hasn't he?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. "He has."

"And he might be here again in the future."

"Yes. I do plan to have him here, for short periods of time."

"And later, when he sheds his human life?"

"Perhaps."

"Then I need to know, are these up to OSHA standards? Your entire lair needs to be up to OSHA standards."

"They're time viewers and tools for unraveling paradoxes. OSHA, even the OSHA of the far future, does not regulate these items," said Clockwork. "Why, in the name of time, do you even need to know? Surely, OSHA didn't even exist the last time a liminal child was adopted."

"Well," said the expert, slightly sheepish. "No. But regulations state that all residences must be safe for children by both human and ghost standards."

"Then OSHA is not what you should be using," said Clockwork. "OSHA is the set of rules for occupational health and safety."

"Ah," said the expert. "Then we can move right along to the next check mark, shall we?"

.

"Hi," said a cheerful voice.

Danny looked up from his contemplation of the examination room table and glared balefully at the ghost who had just entered the door. They didn't seem to be affected. But then, why would they be? Danny was handcuffed to the table and clearly not a threat.

"I'm the interviewer," said the featureless ghost. "Do you know why you're here?"

"No," said Danny.

"Well," said the interviewer, "I work for the eighth authorized family court of the Infinite Realms, we're actually the only one right now, but there used to be more, and a little while ago, an adoption request was filed on your behalf."

Danny blinked and made a face. "You mean, someone stole my identity in ghost court?"

"No, no," said the interviewer, waving one amorphous hand. "Not at all. I mean to say, I ghost filed a request to legally adopt you."

"Who?" asked Danny. "Not Vlad?" Vlad was the only ghost he could think of who had demonstrated any interest in adopting him.

"No, that's not the name listed here."

"Plasmius?" asked Danny, still cringing internally.

"No."

"Then who?"

"Clockwork."

"What, seriously?" Danny liked Clockwork, and he liked to think that Clockwork liked him back, that they were friends, but the older ghost always seemed somewhat aloof.

"Yes, he was very serious. Now. I have a number of questions I need to ask you." They took out a small, glowing crystal, and set it on the table. "Do you know what this is?"

"No?" said Danny.

"It's a record crystal," said the ghost. "But one of its other functions is that it can sense deception, and record when in an interview it is being used. Go ahead, say something you know is false."

"I... like toast?"

The crystal's glow dimmed slightly before returning to its previous level.

"There, see? Very useful, don't you think?"

"I guess," said Danny. He didn't know how to feel about this. Any of this. What would ghost adoption even mean? He trusted Clockwork, but this felt like too much, too fast. He hadn't even properly processed what had happened with his parents a few hours ago.

"Right. So. We'll start with an easy one, then. Is your name Daniel Janus James Fenton-Phantom, also known as Danny Phantom, or simply Danny or Phantom?"

"Yes," said Danny, eyeing the crystal warily.

"And what would you prefer to go by, for the purposes of this interview?"

"Phantom," said Danny.

"Alright then, Phantom," said the interviewer, "could you please tell me where you primarily reside?"

"Fentonworks," said Danny, "in Amity Park." So far, he hadn't really had a reason to lie. All of this was common knowledge for both his human and ghostly acquaintances.

"And what would you consider to be your haunt?"

"My what?"

"Your haunt. The territory that you have metaphysically claimed."

"I- I don't really understand."

"Is there an area that you feel compelled to defend against hostile persons? An area in which non-hostile ghosts defer to you?"

"I- Yeah. I guess. Amity Park. And some of the bits around it, too."

"The entire city?"

"I guess? I don't know," said Danny. "Is that weird?"

"It would be unusual," said the interviewer.

Danny really wished the interviewer had an expression he could read. Or even just something approximating a face.

"Now, do you feel safe in your home? In 'Fentonworks?'"

The correct answer to that question would be no, but he wasn't sure he should answer. What if this was some kind of elaborate trick?

"We can come back to that," said the interviewer. "Are there any other places where you do feel safe?"

"I mean, sure?" said Danny. He fidgeted.

"Would you please share some of those places?"

"School, I guess?" Except that he got beaten up there all the time and his parents had hunted him down there and he had to escape and... Yeah.

The crystal dimmed. Danny grimaced.

"Ah," said the interviewer. "Anywhere else?"

"My friends houses," said Danny. "And the Far Frozen." To his relief, this time, the crystal stayed bright.

"Have you ever been to Clockwork's lair?"

"Yeah," said Danny. He slouched in the chair as much as possible. He wasn't sure he should be answering these questions, but he was. Maybe he should stop.

"Do you feel safe there?"

"Not at first, but now I do."

"I see. Why not at first?"

"Clockwork and I didn't meet on great terms and we sort of got into a fight." Maybe that would get the interviewer to stop. They'd decide Clockwork couldn't adopt him and leave. Did Danny want that? He wasn't sure.

"That's more common than one might expect. But you feel safe with him now?"

"Yes."

"Alright, moving on. How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

There was a long, drawn out silence that managed to be skeptical despite the interviewer's lack of a face.

"I know I'm small," said Danny, insulted, "but I am sixteen."

"Excuse my indelicacy, but... how old were you when you died?"

Danny flushed. "Fourteen," he bit out.

"Then you're fourteen."

"It was two years ago. I'm sixteen."

"Fourteen is your natural age," said the ghost. "A ghost's natural age is the age they died at."

"Yeah, but I'm still half human. I'm still aging. So I'm sixteen."

The interviewer shook their head. "As a liminal spirit, your apparant age range is likely larger than a normal child's would be, but your natural age, your true age, is still fourteen. Based on records of liminals, the highest extent of your age range is most likely to be either twenty-one or twenty-eight. That's part of the reason we investigate official adoption request so thoroughly. The relationship may very well last for thousands of years, if not forever."

"Wait, are you saying I could live forever?" asked Danny, incredulous. This was not how he wanted to find out he was immortal. Heck, he didn't want to be immortal.

"I'll admit, my understanding of liminality isn't perfect, but I believe that is the case. Why? Is that problematic?"

.

"The results of the law enforcement investigation have come back," said the bureaucrat to whom Clockwork was currently assigned. "As well as an inquiry as to the opinion of the mortal law enforcement arm."

"And?" asked Clockwork. "Their findings?"

The bureaucrat, who had up until that point not displayed evidence that xe possessed any emotions whatsoever, made a face of extreme disgust. "When the officers found the child, the human parents were openly shooting at him. Other humans intervened for long enough for law enforcement to pick him up. Of course, they then felt the need to arrest him and carry him away in handcuffs... I have no idea why I keep at this job, really I don't."

Clockwork's core shifted in worry. His first impulse was to leap up and go comfort Daniel, but he suppressed it. If he left now, he would lose his place in line and have to start over.

"The public nature of the event means that the human police are now investigating the child's circumstances and may recommend that the child be removed from his human parents' custody. If you have a human identity and you are able to gain custody of him there, it will aid your case here."

"I am aware," said Clockwork.

"Well, then," xe said. "I believe this is all in order. Here is your ticket to see the judge. Just show it to the door. You know where it is?"

"I do," said Clockwork, rising.

He had walked by the door several times in his dealings with the various clerks and notaries. The room behind it lay directly in the heart of the family court building, all the other rooms and residents armor for this one.

The door itself was made of dark wood full of eye-shaped knots. As Clockwork approached the door, the eyes opened, watching him. He held up the ticket and the doors swung inward.

Inside was a courtroom, complete with benches, tables, a witness stand, a courtroom recorder, a judge's box, and a judge.

The judge was a one-eyed ghost in pale purple robes. She examined Clockwork.

"We had not foreseen this," she said. "Not until you filed the first motion."

"You were never able to see me clearly," said Clockwork, hoping this would not turn into a power play between himself and the Observants. "Did you receive the relevant paper work, your honor?"

"Yes," she said. "Take a seat, Lord Clockwork."

Clockwork flew to the front of the courtroom and settled himself in the applicant's chair.

The judge leaned forward. "Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"Because I love Daniel, and I believe he deserves more care and protection than he is currently receiving from his biological parents."

The judge waved a clawed hand. "Yes, yes. But you didn't have to go through all of this and get to me in order to do that. You could have just taken him. That's what most people do, nowadays. Ever since the King was sealed and our systems of governance began to decay."

"I believe it is the only way Daniel will truly be safe," said Clockwork, meeting her one eye calmly.

"You want to prevent us from 'interfering.'"

"That would be nice, yes," agreed Clockwork.

"You want this to be binding," accused the judge.

"You say that like it is a bad thing," said Clockwork. "But what else could induce him to fully remove himself from that situation? You see how they treat him. Have you looked at the medical report, yet?"

"I have," said the judge, looking at her desk. "Very well. All the paperwork is in order. I am approving you for a one-month trial period. At the end of the trial period, the status of the child will be assessed. If his state is found to be acceptable, the adoption will be approved and bound. If it is not, this court will take custody of him until such a time as an appropriate guardian can be found." She scribbled something on a piece of paper and then hit it with a stamp. "The probationary bond should be active. You may go."

"Thank you, your honor."

.

After the end of the interview, which had become much more distressing than Danny wanted to admit, one of Walker's goons showed up and took him away, to another room.

This room was different than any of the other rooms he had seen in Walker's prison. For one, the walls were a soft, pastel green with purple accents, not the harsh, neon pink of elsewhere in the facility. The chairs looked soft, and were arranged almost randomly, clustered in little groups, or around tables. There were colored pencils and crayons on and occasionally floating over the tables. A large basket sat in one corner, overflowing with toys of various sizes.

Alright. Danny was confused.

He let the goon- the... officer?- guide him into one of the chairs and put a stuffed rabbit on his lap.

"I- I don't understand," said Danny. "What's going on?"

"Didn't that interviewer guy tell you?"

"He said I was being adopted," said Danny, who still hadn't wrapped his head around that particular tidbit of information. "But I thought- I was under arrest?" He raised his cuffed hands. "You arrested me?"

"Those're just so you don't run away," said the ghost. He ruffled Danny's hair. "You're not under arrest. We're just waiting for the court to decide what to do with you."

"And what if they don't do anything with me?"

"Then it's up to the boss."

"Oh," said Danny, not liking the sound of that at all.

"But, if it helps, I think that the court probably will decide to do something with you."

It didn't really help, no.

"Do you want a lollipop?"

"Sure," said Danny. It wasn't like this day could get much weirder.

The ghost handed him a lime dumdum. Yeah. That was about what he expected there, honestly.

The sensation of a thick, weighted blanket being draped over his mind hit him with such intensity that he looked around, trying to see if someone had just wrapped him up in a blanket without him noticing. Tension bled out of his muscles, and his core finally stopped the angry/depressed/frightened/pained dance it was doing in his chest.

He felt... protected. Which was wrong, because he was in Walker's prison, and Walker would use any excuse he had to keep Danny imprisoned for a thousand years. Danny was not safe here. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

And yet, that feeling remained.

He brushed his fingers over the bandages over his chest. What was wrong with him? His parents hadn't even cut all the way through, but he was so messed up. He didn't understand.

This feeling... This 'safety'... It felt like a cruel joke more than anything else, only it was one he couldn't escape from because it was coming from inside him and he was calm but he was also crying.

"Oh, heck, do you not like lime? I think I have some green apples-?"

The door to the room opened, and Danny looked up. Before he could register who had come in, he was swept up into a hug.

He blinked into silky purple cloth. "Clockwork?" he croaked.

"I'm here," said Clockwork. "It's fine. You're safe now, Daniel."

Danny pushed away. Clockwork let him. "You're adopting me?" asked Danny.

"Yes," said Clockwork. "Unless you don't want me to."

"Why?" asked Danny. "I don't understand. I didn't think you liked me that much."

"I like you very much," reassured Clockwork. "I want you to be my family."

Danny sniffed. "Okay," he said. It wasn't as if he really had anywhere else to go. "Okay. But what about," he made an awkward gesture with his cuffed hands, "Amity Park?" The idea of leaving hurt, even worse than the cut on his chest.

"You won't have to leave," said Clockwork, soothingly. "You can still have your life there."

"I'll have to go back?" asked Danny, in alarm. Back to Fentonworks, where even the walls had it out for him with how much anti-ghost weaponry they had packed into them? He couldn't. Not after what his parents had done.

(A small part of him knew that wasn't what Clockwork had said, and that he was being irrational. That part of him was ignored.)

"No, no," said Clockwork. "I have a new place, just for you. If you'll let me show you?"

Very hesitantly, Danny nodded.

"Alright, good," said Clockwork. He turned to the police ghost. "Do you have the key for these? We really must be going."

"Yeah," said the ghost, producing the item. "The boss says that he expects you to teach the kid how to respect the law."

"Appropriately," said Clockwork, neutrally, unlocking the cuffs.

Danny felt an urge to hug Clockwork. So he did. Clockwork hugged him back, and rocked him back and forth, gently.

"Are you ready to go?" asked Clockwork.

"Yeah," said Danny.

With a gesture of his staff, Clockwork opened a portal.

.

Clockwork wanted custody of Danny. He wanted full custody of Danny. Legally. In both worlds.

This posed a bit of a challenge, as he did not legally exist on one of those two worlds. Thus, Clockwork had to establish a legal presence in the human world.

On the surface of it, this did not seem too difficult. Between his temporal powers, his minor shapeshifting abilities, and overshadowing, simply creating an identity was easy. The hard part was creating an identity that Daniel would not have encountered before, in order to avoid a paradox, while making it plausible that Daniel had encountered the identity before, for the purposes of dealing with mortal law.

In one timeline, the hill to the west of town stood empty of habitation, owned by the county but rendered unusable due to a dangerous failed mine on the site. In this timeline, however, the mine had never been built, and the property was instead owned by a reclusive hermit who went by the name of Charles Worth. The property had passed through many hands in the years before Mr. Worth had purchased it in his youth, and a stately, if somewhat faded, mansion sat at the hill's crest, overlooking Amity Park.

Charles Worth went to Amity Park only rarely, and for good reason. He was an albino, with red eyes, white hair, and even whiter skin, and superstitious people often thought the worst of him. In recent days, he had even been mistaken for a ghost.

'Mistaken.'

He rubbed Daniel's shoulders, and the child startled, pulling away from him again. Daniel had missed Clockwork's, admittedly minor, transformation, and now blinked up at his newly pale face, confused.

"Do you like my disguise?" asked Clockwork.

Daniel's eyes flicked up and down Clockwork, assessing, processing. He gave a tiny nod, and reattached himself. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Hickory Hill," said Clockwork.

Danny frowned, mouthing the words. "Isn't that owned by... Charles Worth. Charles- Oh. I get it."

Clockwork gave Danny a little squeeze. "Would you like to see inside?"

"Okay," said Danny.

.

The house, Danny had to acknowledge, as they approached the front door, looked haunted. As if some pale, frail, spirit might look out one of the lace-draped windows on the upper floor at any moment. As if there was a Gothic mystery just waiting to unfold. A murder mystery, maybe, full of forbid love and jealous lovers. Or the tale of a sickly heir to a great fortune.

Or that of an ancient ghost and his adopted half-living son.

Even before they stepped inside, Danny's ghost half had decided it loved the building.

The door, as Clockwork opened it, creaked in a loving sort of way, the tone low enough to be comforting instead of annoying. The entrance hall's floorboards did not creak under the weight of the ghosts, but Danny could tell that if a human tried to cross them, they would. He hoped the rest of the floors were like that.

He padded forward, daringly leaving the protection of Clockwork's cloak, examining all the dark nooks and crannies, the odd architectural choices arising from generations of additions, smiling at cold spots. Clockwork shut the door. Even then, there was a draft, curling around his ankles, cool and refreshing.

Danny smiled. It was small and strained, but it was a smile. "It's perfect," he said.

"Don't you want to see your room before you say that?" teased Clockwork.

"Yes," said Danny.

Clockwork led Danny to a staircase with an elaborately carved banister and began to climb. Danny followed eagerly. He had never thought his core would be so happy simply to have somewhere safe to exist.

It almost was enough to let him forget what his parents had done to him. He stopped, hand on his chest.

"Daniel?" said Clockwork. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," said Danny, automatically.

Clockwork frowned, the expression both familiar and foreign on Clockwork's falsely-human face. "Why don't we take a look at that, once we get to your room, alright?"

Danny nodded, swallowing back his irrational fear.

They went up, and Clockwork opened the door to a large room, much larger than the one he had back at Fentonworks. The bed was similarly large and equipped with curtains and enough blankets and pillows to turn it into a nest at a moment's notice. The walls and ceiling were painted a deep blue, with tiny green-white dots picking out a star map. The room also contained a number of carefully curated hiding places, areas where the dressers wardrobe or desk created blind spots and deep shadows. The floor was carpeted, but still icy.

It was an excellent room for a ghost (or half-ghost) like Danny.

He was too nervous to enjoy it.

Clockwork pulled a chair to the side of the bed and sat down. It was a little strange to see Clockwork actually sitting and not floating or coiling. Actually-

"Can you have legs in ghost form?" asked Danny.

"I can," said Clockwork. "But typically I don't bother." He patted the bed. "Let's take a look at you."

Danny hesitated, holding his hands clasped in front of his chest. Clockwork's face went soft.

"I just want to make sure you are healing. I know this is difficult, but neither you nor I want things to get worse."

"I'm fine," said Danny. "I heal fast. It was just- It should be gone now. I've gotten worse."

"Is it?" asked Clockwork.

Danny could still feel it. "I don't know," said Danny.

Clockwork patted the bed again. Danny sat down and started fumbling with the hem of his shirt.

"Would you like help?" asked Clockwork.

"No," said Danny. He pulled his sweater off. Taking off his t-shirt was harder. Then there were just Sam's bandages. He bit his lip a the red and brown blotches staining them.

"Would you like to talk about it?" asked Clockwork, taking one end of the bandage and starting to unwind it.

"I don't know," said Danny. "I just- It's so stupid. I shouldn't have- They saw me walk through a door and- They don't even know I'm Phantom. They just-" Danny hiccuped. "They tried to cut me open. They pretended."

Clockwork pulled free the last layer of bandages. The long, shallow cut was still there, straight along his breast bone until the end, where it curved sharply right and tapered off. That was when Danny had jerked free of the restraints and ran.

"Why isn't it healing?" asked Danny.

"It isn't just a physical wound, Daniel. Ghosts are spiritual creatures."

"Oh," said Danny. It made a sick kind of sense. "So my core is really hurt? I thought I was just... That it was in my head."

Clockwork raised a hand to touch the bottom of the cut. "Your parents are important to you, and to your Obsession, your existence as a ghost. Of course their rejection would affect you." The cut began to knit itself together underneath Clockwork's fingers. Danny's core thrummed strangely at the touch. "I can heal your physical injuries."

"But not the mental ones, huh?" said Danny.

"You need time for that," said Clockwork, reaching the top of the cut.

"Good thing I have you, then."

"It is," said Clockwork. He leaned forward and kissed Danny on top of his head.

Danny ran his fingers up and down the newly healed cut. "So my powers aren't going to work until, what, I get over this?"

"That is one possibility," said Clockwork. "But everyone heals differently."

"Can't you tell?" asked Danny, reaching for his shirt.

"The more involved I am in an event, the more difficult it becomes for me to see its future," said Clockwork. "The timeline branches and splinters as I look at it. Also, it may surprise you, but you are fairly difficult to predict on your own."

"Oh," said Danny. He pulled his shirt on, ignoring how it caught on the dried blood on his skin. "So, what now? Should I just, I don't know, hide out here? I mean," he shifted, uncomfortably, "It's fine if I can't let anyone know I'm here, I get that, but I'd like to, um..."

"Live your life?"

Danny flinched. "As much as I can, yeah." He licked his lips. "Sam and Tucker didn't get in trouble, did they? They're fine?" He'd been so wrapped up in how miserable he was, he'd barely spared his friends a second thought, and now that guilt from that rained down on his head.

"They're fine. Due to the circumstances, they haven't gotten in any trouble at all, so stop that."

"What?"

"Feeling guilty. I know for a fact that the safety of others was your first consideration." Clockwork patted his shoulder. "As for your continued presence here on the mortal plane," Clockwork smiled, "would it surprise you to learn that I am in fact registered as a foster parent? I have even had a few children here, although not many stay for long."

"Really?" said Danny. "But... Wait, um. What about- What about Mom and Dad?"

"They were seen shooting at you in public after insisting that you were a ghost. They've been arrested."

Danny swallowed. "Are they going to be alright?"

Clockwork sighed and shifted so that he was sitting on the bed next to Danny. He put an arm around Danny's shoulders. "They'll be fine," he said. "But we should come up with a story about how you wound up here, hm? For the social workers."

.

During Daniel's periodic visits to Clockwork's lair, Clockwork had noted how tactile he was, how much he enjoyed hugs and other physical expressions of affection. After Daniel got past his initial hesitation concerning his new situation, that particular personality trait multiplied.

Clockwork suspected the Fentons were ultimately to blame. Their hostility towards Daniel's ghostly identity and their tendency to carry objects that could hurt Daniel precluded him from seeking comfort from them, and his friends and sister, while very remarkable, were children themselves. Their relationship with Daniel was different.

This meant that Daniel could and would spend long periods of time laying against Clockwork. Usually, he would be doing homework during those moments or talking to Clockwork about various ghostly things that he had never had a chance to learn about before.

Today, however, he was just sitting there, quietly, almost dozing.

"I'm not keeping you from doing things?" asked Daniel, abruptly. "Am I?"

"No," said Clockwork.

"You don't have to do time stuff?"

"I can make duplicates and also time travel. I can be wherever I need to be. But if you want space-"

"No," said Daniel. "This is good." He snuggled closer and startled as a ring of light flashed around his waist. He was, for the first time since before his parents had attacked him, a ghost. Clockwork, in turn, shed his human guise.

Daniel was blinking down at his gloved hands.

"What?" he asked.

"I think you finally relaxed," said Clockwork, ruffling Daniel's hair. The smaller ghost leaned into the touch, purring. "Your transformations might be a bit unpredictable for the next few days."

"Good thing it's a weekend, then, huh?"

.

Danny jittered nervously as he and Clockwork passed through the large, eye-covered doors. This time last week, strange ghosts had been in and out of Clockwork's house, asking questions, poking things, and staring. Clockwork said they were checking to see if everything was in order, if the adoption could become official.

Danny didn't really see why it being official mattered. The Ghost Zone didn't really have a government to speak of. Families that Danny had seen just sort of decided that they were families, and that was that. It seemed important to Clockwork, though, and Clockwork claimed that there were certain benefits, like strengthening connections... Danny didn't get it. Wouldn't their connections be strengthened anyway?

Clockwork guided Danny with small nudges, directing him to a seat in front of the judge, who stared down at them with her one enormous eye.

"I have decided to approve the adoption request regarding Daniel Janus James Fenton-Phantom," she said.

Danny felt Clockwork relax incrementally beside him. He smiled. The judge's pronouncement felt a little anticlimactic to him, but, well, whatever.

But the judge wasn't done speaking. "The child's familial bond with his biological parents will be severed. The familial bond will be established with his current guardian, known as Clockwork. On all levels legal, physical, metaphysical, metaphorical, emotional, mental, and spiritual, Clockwork will be the sole parent of Daniel Janus James Fenton-Phantom. Due to the child's status as a liminal spirit, the memories and associations stored in his human brain will not be altered, and he may still experience feelings, especially those of nostalgia, towards his former parents, however, this is expected to fade with time. Questions?"

Danny had rather a lot, actually. Clockwork hadn't quite explained it like this. "Wait, are you saying I'll forget my parents?"

"No," said the judge, in a rather condescending tone.

"You won't forget them," said Clockwork. "But your core won't recognize them as your parents anymore. It's so you'll be able to defend yourself." His tone was almost pleading. "Your relationship with your sister will, of course, be unaffected."

"Okay," said Danny. They clearly didn't see him as their son anymore, so... It wouldn't really change anything. He didn't like the idea of ghosts he didn't know messing around with his core, but he trusted Clockwork. Even if he was apparently really bad at explaining ghost adoption. "What about the other stuff? The physical, metaphysical part?"

"The severed bonds in your core are replaced with ones to your new parent. Similarly, new bonds will be established in your parent's core," explained the judge. "Are you satisfied?"

Clockwork gave Danny an encouraging smile.

"I- Yes. I'm satisfied," said Danny.

"Very well." The judge waved forward a seven armed bailiff who had been waiting in the corner of the room.

The bailiff carried two tall glasses and a large, covered pitcher. He set one glass each in front of Clockwork and Danny and poured a thick, white, faintly glowing liquid into each of them.

"What is it?" asked Danny.

"It is a potion designed to stop our cores from fighting the changes that are about to happen," said Clockwork.

Danny looked at the potion dubiously. "Like an anesthetic?"

"Like an anesthetic," agreed Clockwork. He had already picked up his cup. "Together?"

"Okay," said Danny, still doubtful.

He picked up the cup and brought it to his lips, watching Clockwork carefully over the rim. Clockwork tipped his cup back, and so did Danny.

The potion reminded him a lot of eggnog, except that it was thicker, heavier, sweeter, like it had been mixed with honey. Almost at once, that heaviness settled into Danny's bones, weighing him down, a sensation just to the left of sleep settled over him. He lowered the cup from his face, his grip on it going gentle. The bailiff caught it as it tipped over.

Clockwork reached over and gently, slowly, pulled him close. Then he went as limp as Danny.

Inside, Danny's core became open. Not open, as in vulnerable, but as in receptive. Listening. He felt soft. Malleable. Like someone could press their thumb into him, and it would leave an impression when he hardened again. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation.

The judge sighed with something like disapproval. "So mote it be." She raised a stamp up off her desk, brought it down, and things changed.

Or, at least, Danny did.

.

Clockwork, being the elder ghost, recovered faster from the potion than Daniel. There was no reason to stay at the court, so, after bidding a goodbye to the judge, he picked Daniel up and left, flying a polite distance before opening a portal back to their home outside Amity Park.

He settled Daniel down in his bed, phasing him beneath his covers and tucking him in. Daniel would need to sleep off the potion, as well as take time to adjust to the changes to his psyche, however minor they might be.

"I love you so much," said Clockwork, brushing Daniel's hair out of his face. Getting here had taken subjective years of work and planning but it was worth it, because now Daniel was his child, in every way that mattered.

Forever.

.

.

.

Yes, that ending line was a little bit ominous, but they're ghosts. They wouldn't be happy if it wasn't ominous!

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2020

[currentlylurking]

Phic Phight: Good Parents

Maddie Fenton nearly kills her son trying to take down Phantom. Jack Fenton nearly kills him again, trying to tear the ghost from him.

Clockwork, one of the most powerful ghosts in existence, is tired of the people he cares about getting hurt.

(Based on a Phic Phight 2020 prompt by @five-rivers)

(WC: 2534)

Good Parents

At 10:13 am yesterday morning, Maddie Fenton had shot her son.

She hadn’t meant to – no. She had meant to. She had meant to shoot Danny Phantom.

She hadn’t known he was Danny Fenton. She hadn’t known. She never would have shot her son if she had known.

At 7:07 pm, after the secret had been spilled and the ectoranium bullet extracted, Danny had been tired. He’d been so tired. He’d promised he’d wanted to tell them since he became ‘half ghost’ when he was fourteen. He’d promised he loved them. Always had, always would.

Jack had promised that he always would, too. Then he put his son under anaesthetic and set out to remove that ectoplasmic mutation that had ruined Danny’s life.

At 7:47 pm, Danny’s heart had stopped. They got it started again and continued to work on removing the mutation.

At 7:59 pm, it happened again. And then the world froze.

It was a strange sensation. Neither of them could breathe or move their eyes, but Maddie and Jack were still very much alive. From the scowl on the face of the ghost that appeared in their lab, that had been intentional. Blue skin and a scarred red eye looked at them with absolute, utter disdain.

They would make note, later, that not everything had been frozen – their inner ears still registered vibrations, because they both clearly heard the ghost speak.

“How dare you?” it said.

And then it took their son and disappeared. It left them there, frozen, for hours.

But when they could move again, it was still only 7:59.

.-.

Maddie and Jack were good parents. They loved their kids. They provided for them. Of course they made mistakes – what parent hadn’t? What mattered was they tried.

Like any good parent, they’d do anything to protect their kids - even traverse the uncharted land of the dead. Their radar led them to crooked tower that looked long abandoned, with thorny brambles and ivy holding the door shut. They were no match for the Fenton Foamer, though.

Jack stomped on the dying remains of the ghost plants, which expressed ectoplasmic vibrations that sounded like a scream. They didn’t actually scream, of course: not only were they plants, but they were also ghosts. They couldn’t feel pain.

Maddie reached over to assist her husband as he wrapped his hands around the handle of an old iron door. “Jack, careful!” She said and stepped back as he yanked the handle off the door. It’d been rusted through. “Step back, I’ll handle this.” She balanced the bazooka on her shoulder.

The bazooka froze on her shoulder.

The island around them shifted and smeared, and when Maddie and Jack blinked, they were no longer outside – and they were no longer armed. They stood in a circular sitting room, in front of two tartan chairs. Huge brass bells hung from the ceiling, and a network of gears covered the only doorway. Their large weapons were gone, and in front of a huge mirror which took up the entire opposing wall, was the ghost who’d stolen their son.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t destroy my home,” it said.

“You!” Maddie screamed, and pulled a wrist ray from her jumpsuit. The ectoblast hit the ghost in the chest and it curled in on itself with a short gasp of pain.

Then it disappeared.

“I believe ‘don’t shoot your host’ is the first rule of being a good guest.” It was behind them now – Maddie and Jack turned slowly, and watched it fly over to the mirror. “Regardless, that was a duplicate. As am I. You’re only hurting yourselves if you insist on continuing this.”

“Where’s Danny?” Jack demanded.

“What have you done to our boy?” Maddie added. She kept her wristray trained on the ticking clock in the ghost’s torso.

“He’s asleep in his room,” the ghost said, and gestured to the mirror. The reflection faded to a green swirl, and a new vision appeared: Danny, in a warmly lit stone room, asleep on a sterile bed. Their incisions had been stitched up with bright blue sutures and bandaged with a translucent layer of ectoplasm. The ghost floated beside him. He brushed black hair from Danny’s face and replaced a damp cloth on his forehead.

“Let him go,” Maddie said, and fired a shot into the ghost’s back. It disappeared. The version on the other side of the mirror didn’t react. “Let him go! Who do you think you are?!”

The ghost returned, a scowl on it’s face. “I am Clockwork, the Master of Time, and Danny’s new guardian.”

Jack scoffed. “He’s our son!”

“Yes. And you nearly killed him.” Clockwork said. The scowl deepened, and the ghost bared fangs. “Several times over, you have almost killed your son. The accidents and unwitting attempts to kill you son by attacking his ghost half, I could excuse. He begged me to. He promised that if you knew the full consequences of your actions you would not hurt him.” It gestured sharply to the scene, and nearly smashed a fist into the mirror. “And you proved him wrong.” Clockwork took a sharp, growling breath in before it turned its back to Maddie and Jack. “He is not your son anymore.”

In the mirror, Danny stirred. His eyelids fluttered, and he squinted. “Clockwork?” His voice was so weak.

“I’m here, Danny,” both versions of Clockwork said, “I’m right here.”

Danny gave a soft groan, and he raised a shaking hand to his chest. He touched his stiches. Clockwork gently took his wrist and guided his hand away.

“They…” Danny’s voice cracked. “I told them, and they – they –”

“I know,” Clockwork whispered. “I’m sorry. We made a promise Danny, remember? Just for now.” The one on the other side of the mirror summoned a small glass with a straw. The one in front of Jack and Maddie summoned two paper cups.

“Yeah,” Danny whispered, and when Clockwork held the straw to his lips he took a long drink. The scene faded, and the mirror was a mirror once more.

The Clockwork in front of Maddie and Jack turned around – and took a shot to the core.

Another appeared in its place and caught the paper cups. “Within these cups is a Miamenso Draught. When you drink it, you will forget that you have a son. You will have no more than a passing familiarity with Danny – as he now has with you.”

“You drugged our son?!” Maddie shouted.

“We Fentons don’t take anything from ghosts!” Jack said at the same time. “You’ll have to force it down our –”

“Jack,” Maddie said. She shook her head. Jack shut his mouth.

“I won’t force anyone to do anything,” Clockwork said. “That is against my nature. And besides, I made a promise to Danny.” It waved a hand, and table appeared between the chairs Maddie and Jack had not sat in. The cups appeared on it a moment later. “I believe that everything should be a choice, and that everyone deserves a second chance. Even with all you have done, I will grant you that.”

Maddie scoffed. “You listen to me, you putrid manifestation of post human consciousness! You will not take my son from me! Give Danny back, right now, or –”

“Or you’ll shoot me again, I presume?” Clockwork said, deadpan. Maddie shot it.

A new Clockwork appeared a second later. Jack reached back, grabbed one of the cups, and flung the purple liquid in its face. It blinked, then turned intangible.

“I am a duplicate,” it said, and waved a hand at the puddle that had been left behind. It glowed blue. “I don’t have an individual mind to be altered. In addition, a Miamenso Draught must be consumed to be effective.” Telekinetically, the puddle was returned to the paper cup in Jack’s hand. “Would you like to assault me some more, or would you rather hear about how you can get your son back?”

Jack, slowly, lowered the cup. Maddie bit her lip. They both stayed silent.

“Very good.” Clockwork reached a hand back and brushed gloved fingertips against the mirror. The reflection shifted to a still of their lab. “These conditions were agreed upon ahead of time. You will be given a specific time frame to complete each one. If you complete them, then I will administer a Miakoro Draught and restore Danny’s memories. If you fail, or find that Danny’s conditions are too much to ask, then you must take the Miamenso. Understood?”

Maddie and Jack continued to stay silent.

Clockwork rolled its eyes. It continued, “The first condition: you must destroy every one of your ghost hunting weapons.”

“No.” Maddie said.

“Then take the Miamenso Draught and forget your son was ever born.” Clockwork snapped. It had to take a moment to regain its false composure. “You must destroy all blueprints and finished creations within your possession. The portal is exempt from this, as is your Spector Speeder, on the condition you can remove and destroy its weapon system. Nothing else is. You have until this Saturday at 2:13 pm exactly to do this and return here to inform me. Then you will learn of Danny’s next condition. Is that understood?”

“You won’t get away with this,” Maddie snapped.

“Danny’s a smart kid,” Jack added, “Just as smart as the rest of us! He’ll know something’s missing.”

“All the more reason to fulfil your end of this quickly,” Clockwork said. “Do you understand. Yes or no.”

Maddie glared.

Clockwork glared right back.

“Yes,” Jack said.

Maddie’s jaw dropped as she stared at her husband in utter disbelief.

“Good,” Clockwork said. “Now get out of my house.”      

Just as before, their vision twisted and smeared. Instead of the room, they were back outside, dying ectoplants under their boots. However, there was a deep groove in the island, and the tower was gone.

Maddie crossed her arms. “Jack, why did you agree to that?” She demanded. “We are not destroying our life’s work just because a ghost told us too! There has to be another way to get Danny back.”

“Maddie, no,” Jack said quickly. He had a devious grin – Maddie lowered her arms. “That ghost just said we had to get rid of the ones in our possession! We could go home, write up a fake bill of sale and give ‘em to Vladdie. He’ll give them back once this is all done!”

“Oh. Oh,” Maddie threw her arms around him, “Jack, you’re a genius! Come on, let’s go – the sooner we get our boy back, the sooner we can make sure this never happens again.”

.-.

Clockwork felt the duplicate disperse, and took a deep, calming breath in.

It didn’t help. He was still furious.

He looked down at the boy in front of him, sleeping once more. Danny had his face scrunched up in pain – as far as he knew, a Miamenso Draught was not a pleasant thing to drink. Thankfully, that was all theoretical, not practical knowledge. He had never had one himself.

He truly, genuinely wished, that he hadn’t had to give one to Danny.

Clockwork reached over and brushed a lock of hair from Danny’s face. The boy needed a haircut. Even with the longer hair framing his face a bit differently, it didn’t change the facts: Danny barely looked fourteen, let alone like the almost seventeen year old he should be. Clockwork wished he could just dismiss that as a coincidence, but he knew better than to put any stock in that. Danny was a child ghost, and when in unsafe environments, there were two paths child ghosts were likely to take. Either they aged in quick, sporadic bursts, or they simply didn’t age.

Danny, as much as Clockwork hated to admit it and Danny refused to, was very clearly the latter. By now, half his allies had likely told him the same thing, and offered him refuge. Danny would have turned them all down, as he had turned down Clockwork.

He had had so much faith in his parents, and how they’d love him no matter what. While Clockwork had seen the Timelines where the reveal had gone this bad, Danny’s conviction had been infectious. He loved his parents. He wouldn’t tolerate anyone else insulting them, as true as the insults may be.

And he had not set any real conditions in the event that this exact thing happened. He had not believed that Maddie and Jack would ever hurt Phantom if they knew he was a Fenton. His sister had begged Danny to come up with at least a vague suggestion for what their parents would have to do, and Danny had refused.

Clockwork sighed once again, and finally lowered his hand. He’d contacted Jasmine, and she, Sam, and Tucker were on their way – in the meantime, Jasmine put the decision of what Maddie and Jack would have to do to get their son back in his hands. He had some ideas, but he could see the timeline unfolding in front of him. He would not let these willful child murderers twist his intentions to their benefit. Their next challenge would be to swear off ghost hunting permanently. Danny would not be returning to a house filled with weapons. After that, perhaps they could spend some time getting to know their son’s allies. If they even made it that far.

Beside him, Danny stirred, and Clockwork immediately refocused on him. It should have taken another hour for the Miamenso Draught to take effect – but, of course, hybrid biology appeared to complicate things once again. He settled down at the edge of Danny’s bed.

“Danny?” He asked gently, “Can you hear me?”

Danny groaned, and he slowly forced his eyes open. He closed them again a second later. “Ugh. Dad, what happened?”

Clockwork’s core heaved. He glanced back for any hint of orange that could be confusing the boy – there were none. Only the muted purples and dark blues of his tower.

When he looked back, Danny was trying to sit up. “Please don’t do that,” Clockwork said, and softly pressed Danny back to the bed. “How do you feel?”

“Bad,” Danny said. Clockwork smiled. “It feels like I swallowed a bunch of sand.”

“Would you like some water?” Clockwork asked, and removed the damp cloth. It had bits of frost on the edges – finally, a good sign.

Danny nodded. Then he closed his eyes and winced in pain. “Yeah,” he whispered, “yeah. Thanks, Dad.”

Clockwork kept his face carefully neutral. “You’re welcome.”

“Love you.”

“…I love you, too.”

Clockwork turned, left, and let the emotionless mask drop. A Miamenso Draught did not create new memories – but the mind was a tenacious thing, and it would fill in the blanks left with whatever made sense. For this to be happening now – for Danny’s unconscious mind to decide that Clockwork was his father – Danny had to have felt this way for a long time. Clockwork knew the boy liked him, and he certainly cared about Danny in turn, but this…

He felt ashamed to say that it made him happier than he’d been in a long, long time.

***

Mia Menso: My Mind in Esperanto Mia Koro: My Heart in Esperanto

Actual prompt: Clockwork gets sick of how Jack and Maddie treat Danny and spirits him away.  Jack and Maddie have to prove to Clockwork that they'll do better by completing his challenges.  Whether or not they succeed is up to you.  (Bonus: Clockwork does something to Danny so he no longer recognizes Jack and Maddie when he sees them in order to make sure Jack and Maddie have to follow through.)

This could’ve been a full-fledged fic so easily y’all have NO idea. I have a plot for it and everything. Send help.

#Danny Phantom #Phic Phight #Phic Phight 2020 #currently talking #things i write

[wastefulreverie]

making something out of nothing

For Phic Phight!

Word Count: 4783

He handed the pink slip Lancer had placed on his desk at the end of first block to the secretary and sat in the plastic chair set outside the principal's office. Any other day, he would've been elated to miss math class… but something didn't sit right with him today. After all, it wasn't every day he was pulled out of class for a one-on-one meeting with Principal Ishiyama.

The last time he'd been in her office had been the day he was readmitted to Casper High after his… 'untimely suspension' as she'd put it. Mom and Dad had spoken most of the meeting, assuring her that the inhibitors they'd designed were foolproof. They also discussed how he would realistically balance his schoolwork and hero work. It'd been two months since then and Danny couldn't help but wonder where he went wrong. Had he missed too many assignments? Had he abused his make-up work privileges? Had the school-board changed their minds about letting him return?

Whatever this was about it couldn't be good.

Before he knew it, the door to Ishiyama's office opened and one of the language teachers walked out. She gave him an encouraging smile but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

That was all the confirmation he needed. He was fucked.

Danny took a careful breath before entering the room. He sat across Ishiyama, who was wearing a purple pantsuit with neon green cufflinks. Wait… those were the compact specter-detector cufflinks his parents had designed, right? Weird.

"Mr. Fenton," she greeted easily. "It's been a while since we've talked. How have things been since you returned?"

Was he supposed to say that things were good or would that make him sound like a freeloader? He couldn't say that they were bad though—adults got worried when you said things were bad.

"Different, I guess?"

"In a good way, I hope?"

"Yeah… in a good way."

She thumbed through a leather-bound planner before setting it down on her desk. "Good. We have a lot to discuss."

Another wave of dread settled at the bottom of his stomach and Danny curled his fingers around the inhibitor snapped onto his wrist.

"Have I… have I not been doing enough?"

"What do you mean?" she genuinely looked puzzled.

"Of the schoolwork. I mean, I've been trying to do as much as I can without… taking advantage of the extra time. I get it if my teachers have said—"

She cut him off with a laugh.

"No, Mr. Fenton. You've been doing a stellar job in your classes, all things considered. I wanted to talk to you today about your future, well, the school's future."

Great. Another college talk. He'd had enough of those with Jazz, his parents, Tucker's parents, his counselor… the list went on and on. He wasn't even sure he wanted to go to college!

"How much do you know about ghosts? No, let me rephrase that… how much do you think you'd be able to teach me about ghosts in five months?"

What kind of question was that?

"Uh, a fair amount, I guess? I'm still learning more and more about them, but it's pretty easy since I have a firsthand advantage."

"Hm… that's what I thought. What about the science side of it? For instance, what your parents do for a living? Would you be able to explain the basic mechanics of ectology?"

"Yeah?"

This was getting weird...

"I'm sure by now, you're well aware of the petition to include a 'Ghost Science' course as an elective."

He'd heard something about that a few weeks ago. It was started by Star and some of the other A-Listers but he hadn't paid it much thought. People started petitions all the time—he never imagined that the school would seriously consider it!

"Whether we like it or not, ghosts are an important part of our town's society. Personally, I feel severely uneducated about them and several of your peers feel the same. Normally, I'd never consider having a student lead a class—especially with all your other responsibilities stacked on top of it—but you're one of the world's only experts in that field."

She wasn't really asking him to…?

"If you recall, I sat in on one of your English classes a few weeks ago. It wasn't just coincidence that was the day you were presenting your individual book critique. I must say, you have outstanding public speaking skills. Combined with your knowledge of ectology… you'd make a pretty fine teacher."

She was staring at him now, waiting for him to react, but he didn't know what to say. What could he say? This was all out of the blue… he had no idea if he could agree to that sort of commitment!

When he didn't speak, she continued.

"It must sound daunting, but I've put serious thought into it. If you were to teach, you'd be assisted by another member of staff. They could help you reign in the classroom and pitch in with grading when you don't have time. You wouldn't be alone."

"I don't think—I don't think I can. I've never taught before and—and I don't—"

"Mr. Fenton. Danny. I think you've proved by now that you're much more capable than even you know."

"That doesn't mean that I'm cut out to teach! I'm just sixteen!"

"That's not what your teachers think. Nor your classmates. When I inquired about your leadership skills, do you know what they told me?"

"Probably something blown totally out of proportion," he muttered.

"Two years ago, you led thirty of your classmates on a mission to save several adults from a flying pirate ship. Not as Phantom, but as Danny Fenton. Then three months ago, you put your secret on the line to save this town from an invasion and won. Those both sound reasonably in proportion to me."

He felt his face heat up. "What do those things have to do with being a teacher?"

"Leadership has everything to do with being a teacher and you have it. I'm not asking for a yes today, I'll give you a week or so to think about it, but I really want you to consider it. The course would be a ninety-minute, one-semester class. I'd suggest teaching it in the fall but it all comes down to what other classes you want to pair with it."

"Why me, though? Why not my parents—or an actual ectologist?"

"We've looked into hiring other specialists but most of them don't have any real qualifications, just loons spouting a bunch of spiritual mumbo-jumbo. We have considered your parents but they don't quite make the cut for teachers. Please don't take this the wrong way but our school has had far too many incidents with your father spraying teachers down with ectoplasm."

Now that he thought about it his parents would be horrible teachers. They'd probably set the fire alarm off twice before lunch.

"Yeah, I can see that. And I… I'll think about it."

She nodded. "Thank you. Also, if you can keep this under wraps. Nothing is official yet so I'd rather there be no rumors."

"I can tell my parents though, right?"

"Yes. If you agree, they'll have to come in for another meeting to discuss how this will affect your education and how you'll be paid."

He almost choked. "Paid?"

"Of course. It wouldn't be a full-time salary but I'm sure we can settle on an hourly rate."

"That's—okay. Wow."

This couldn't be real. He'd expected to be chastised about missing too many assignments, not offered to teach other students about ghosts. The last thing he expected was to be offered a paying job!

"As I said, I'll give you two weeks or so to make a decision. You can email me your choice and then we'll go from there."

"Okay."

She leaned forward to shake his hand. He pushed his inhibitor further up his arm and accepted her grip.

"It was nice talking with you, Mr. Fenton."

"You too."

Senior schedules were mailed out a week before the fall semester. Danny had managed to keep quiet all summer, so when his classmates learned that Fenton, Daniel James would be teaching fall Ectology... all hell broke loose.

Valerie wasn't the first person to message him about his impromptu teaching career, but she was definitely the first person with enough guts to fly straight to his window sill demanding answers.

"How the fuck did you pull this off?" she stepped through his window and pulled her mask off. "You didn't overshadow the school-board, did you? I swear—"

"Ishiyama offered me the job last February."

Her face fell and he could see the wrath burning in her eyes.

"February? You've known since February and didn't tell me!"

He shrugged. "I was sort of sworn to confidentiality in case it fell through."

"How are you going to teach and attend your classes and fight ghosts? How the hell do you have time for that?"

"Eh, I'll figure it out. Who knows? Maybe you can give me tips—after all, you have two jobs."

She shook her head and fell into a slump on his bed.

"I can't believe you're teaching an Ectology class and I'm not in it. When I saw it on the course registration form I thought that they'd have someone like Mr. Falluca teach it! So instead I signed up for AP Bio and now there's no way they're going to let me change my schedule! Everyone's trying to change theirs now… GAH! You should've let me know, dumbass!"

"I already told you I couldn't."

"So? You could have if you wanted. I bet you told Sam and Tucker, didn't you?"

"I didn't!" She gave him a disbelieving look and he caved. "Fine… Jazz told them for me."

She slammed a fist against his headboard. "Why did you make me take AP Bio, traitor!"

"I didn't 'make' you do anything. You could've taken anything besides AP Bio!"

She only groaned in response.

As he looked over the roster, he noticed that there were more Freshmen than he expected in his class. Which was okay because that meant he didn't already know them. He'd much rather teach strangers than people like Dash or Paulina. Fortunately, neither of them were in his class but Star, Kwan, and Dale were. Besides them, there were only three other Seniors. In total there were ten Freshman, five Sophomores, seven Juniors, and six Seniors… he could make that work. Yeah, he could make that work.

After all, he was getting paid twenty dollars per hour, eight hours per week. For that kind of money, he'd put up with anything.

"Are you going over your lesson plans again?" Lancer asked.

Danny looked up from his desk to find the older man watching him. He'd come into the school several times over the past week to workshop his curriculum with Mr. Lancer, who'd eagerly filled the role of Danny's 'co-teacher'. He never thought he'd find his Freshman English teacher's presence calming but the past few days had subverted many of his preconceived notions of the man. He'd done a lot to curb Danny's anxiety and help him mentally prepare for the job.

"Oh, no. I finally got a copy of the roster and I'm just checking for familiar names," he admitted. "Trust me, I can only go over basic ghost vocabulary so many times."

Lancer snorted. "I'd imagine so. I'm kind of disappointed that you didn't ace my vocabulary tests from how much you've studied your own."

"Well, Freshman year I didn't have as much leeway when it came to schoolwork, did I?"

"Ah. Yes, I suppose that would make sense. So, your accommodations have been helping you?"

Lancer posed the question as if he already didn't know the answer but Danny wasn't naive. He was well aware that he was a frequent breakroom topic for the staff. After all that had happened, who wouldn't talk about the poor kid who was suspended on account of being a half-ghost hybrid? Who wouldn't talk when the school-board went back on their very public decision and allowed him to return back to school given that he wore government-mandated inhibitors?

"Yeah, the extra time really helped last semester. I managed to pull up my GPA from the gutter and for once in my life I actually felt like I understood math."

There was a grin etched across Lancer's face. "That's good."

"Yeah." He brushed his hand across the back of his neck. "Uh, anyway there's something that I've been meaning to ask you about. How are we going to handle when I have to leave? For a ghost, I mean."

His smile slipped. "Don't I just have to unlock your inhibitors?"

"No. Well, yeah, you do have to do that. But I was talking about when I'm actually gone during a lesson. You'll have to stand-in for me, right?"

"I suppose I will."

"So, that means you need to be familiar with the content too. Just in case."

"That's generally how substitution works," Lancer reminded him. I'll just follow your lesson plans, Danny."

"But shouldn't we have a better plan put in place?"

"We'll get there when the time comes. Trust me, education is much more flexible than most teachers lead you to believe."

He sighed. "I just don't want it to be too flexible. What if the entire class is a mess? What if it's too easy or too obvious? What if nobody learns anything useful? Or what if I make it too boring? I don't even have anything to go by because there's never been an Ectology class before!"

"Danny…"

"What if they don't take me seriously because I'm a kid? Or worse… I make everyone afraid of me again because I'm a ghost." He propped his arm against the table and leaned into his hand, looking down. "Either way, I'm bound to screw this up."

There was a beat of pensive silence between the two of them before Lancer tenderly brought a hand to his shoulder. "You're going to do just fine. Remember, Mrs. Ishiyama selected you for a reason—many reasons."

"But—"

"It's okay to doubt yourself from time to time. I've had my fair share of doubt in myself too. When I first started teaching, I was terrified! And that was with months of experience from student-teaching. It doesn't matter whether you're a kid or if you're a ghost—taking the plunge is hard. Not every student will respect you and that's not because you're a bad teacher, it could be for any reason. As long as you do everything you can to branch out to them, to teach and look out for them… you'll do a great teacher."

Goddamn it.

Why did this man have to give such good advice?

"Th—thanks, Mr. Lancer." He looked up and met the man's knowing, blue eyes again. "That does help some, I guess."

"You're welcome, Danny."

His first day of Senior year started off with a bang. Apparently, his parents had been working on a new invention and accidentally cut the wire that was supposed to bypass his ecto-signature. When he met them at the kitchen table, the device—which looked like a blender with a spiral blade fixture on top—exploded in his face. It didn't do much damage but he'd have to sport a mottled, green burn along his jawline for the rest of the school-day since his inhibitor scaled back his healing factor.

It was fine. Really, he was just swell.

"Are you sure you don't want a bandage?" Mom fretted. "We have some of those new ones, lined with ectopl—"

"I'm good," he dismissed. "It's not bleeding anymore and putting something on it will just make me more aware it's there."

She and Dad watched him with guilty, twin gazes. Even though it hurt, he knew that they hadn't meant to do it. After the reveal, they'd taken great strides to avoid incidents like this and he couldn't fault them for a freak accident. Similarly, he didn't fault them for the accident, which had taken a long, painful heart-to-heart to resolve.

"If you're sure, Danno," Dad said.

"Mm-hm. Anyway, I should probably get going." He mentally prodded his core and let his transformation wash over him. "Class starts in ten and I still have to meet up with Sam to return her USB stick she lent me last weekend."

"Oh! Okay then, have a good day!" Mom forced a smile.

"We love you. Good luck with your ghost class!"

"And remember to ask Mrs. Ishiyama if we can be guest speakers."

"I will, don't worry!"

Like hell he would.

Dad leaned forward and ruffled his wispy, white hair. "That's my boy!"

Danny left the house laughing, having almost forgotten about the burn that lined his face until he touched down outside of the school's front entrance. There, he shifted back into human form and snapped his inhibitor on his wrist with an almost practiced exasperation. He understood why he had to wear it, but that didn't mean he liked it. The device itself created an electric field around his core, suspending his powers in a way that was far more than invasive. His only saving grace was that the discomfort was immediate and only lessened throughout the day—it would be worse if it were the opposite… building and building all day long.

He braced himself for the wave of visceral wrongness that he'd been fortunate enough to forgo for the past two months. When it came, he had to stop himself from crying out in alarm as his entire face twinged.

The burn had stopped healing. Oh fuck, it felt so much worse now than it had at home—fuck!

After a moment or so the brunt of the pain passed. It was still there, still eating away at him, reminding him that something wasn't right, but at least he could function now. He took an assured breath and stepped through the double-doors for one last first day.

His first two classes were uneventful. He'd had to stay behind for each of them, discussing his accommodations with his new teachers. To his chagrin, he'd accidentally stayed too long with his second block teacher which made him late for third block… Ectology. He was almost certain that being late on the first day would definitely not leave a good first impression on his students. Lancer had put so much faith in him and he'd already screwed up!

The tardy bell rang and Danny barrelled down the nearly vacant hallway. He'd never admit it, but all he could think was 'make way for the half-human trainwreck' before slamming straight into a poor Freshman girl nose-deep into her schedule.

"I'm—I'm sorry," she said. "I wasn't watching where—"

"You're good. It was me."

He moved to walk around her, but at the last second she threw out an arm and blocked him. "Aren't you Phantom?"

He almost swore. Now was not the time for this.

"Yeah, and I'm kind of in a hurry."

"Ectology, right?"

If only he could phase right now... "Yep."

"I'm in your class and I'm lost."

Oh.

Okay then.

That made him stop in his tracks.

"Uh, nice to meet you? I'm Danny, Mr. Fenton—whichever."

"Talia."

Talia Marcus, his memory provided.

"Alright, Talia, the classroom isn't too far down. Just follow me."

When they arrived at his classroom, Lancer had started taking roll. He was a bit taken aback that he'd gone ahead and taken initiative without him, but Lancer had probably assumed that Danny had left on ghost business.

"Ah, Mr. Fenton. Have trouble getting here?" he raised a brow.

"No more than usual," he quipped back. "My schedule is pretty booked these days."

Danny crossed the room and dropped his bag beside his desk. Then, Lancer resumed taking roll while Danny got his materials in order. By the time he called Youn, Sara he had readied himself for his introductory speech.

"Hi, so as I'm sure you all know I'm Mr. Fenton. You don't have to call me that, though. You can just call me Danny or Fenton or even Phantom if you want—I'm not that picky. Anyway, welcome to Ectology! Not that I've ever taught before, but I think this class will be pretty laid-back schoolwork wise. I want you guys to learn but that doesn't mean I'm gonna weigh you down with a lot of busywork either."

He picked up a stack of papers from his desk and handed them off to Lancer to distribute.

"I've outlined most of what this course will be covering in the syllabus, but keep in mind that it's subject to change since this is a relatively new type of course. At the moment, I have about six units planned through December and after that, we'll begin a review unit. In order, we are going to cover Ghost Formation, Anatomy, Psychology, Defense, Culture, and History and Lore. As I said, none of these are set in stone yet; we'll just have to play it by ear.

"Each unit will have its own vocabulary list that you'll have to know. At the end of each unit, you'll define them for a quiz grade. Once I get our Google Classroom set-up… somehow… I'll post Quizlet links so you can begin studying those. I wouldn't stress too much over them because I'm not a stickler like Mr. Lancer over there—" cue laughter "—I'm gonna have weekly Kahoot games because damn, if I'm going to have my own class we're going to play Kahoot."

Several of his students were smiling. A few were whispering to each other, which he expected, and that was okay. Nonetheless, he carried on.

"The syllabus also mentions that each nine-weeks we'll have a group project. I know, I'm not a fan of them either, but I now have the authority to make them fun so don't write it off immediately. Other than that, there's a few classroom rules on there. It's just general stuff like lab-safety in case we do any live examinations and keeping your cell phones in your pocket. I've been advised to take your phones up for this class, but I won't do that unless you abuse your privileges—so keep them away so you don't ruin it for everyone else. Trust me, I've been the kid that's ruined it for everyone before. You don't want to be that person."

Back at his desk, he picked up a stack of index cards and started handing them out on his own this time.

"Most of my teachers usually do an introduction for themselves. I'm not going to bore you with details about myself you probably know already, so instead, I'm going to let you guys ask me what you want to know. On your card, write your name at the top, one random fact about yourself, a question about me, and any questions you have about this course. And before you ask, yes, I am half-ghost. Once you're done, leave them in the tray on my desk and I'll do my best to answer them all before class is over."

When he returned to his seat, he had enough time to feel proud of himself. He'd practiced that spiel on-and-off in front of a mirror last night and couldn't believe that it had actually gone swimmingly! Lancer gave him a subtle thumbs-up from his chair beside Danny's desk which only expedited the feeling. He couldn't wait to tell Sam and Tucker at lunch.

After five minutes, Danny looked up and found only two people left writing: one of Dash's goons, Dale, and an underclassman with blue streaks in his hair. He could tell the rest of the class was starting to get antsy and he wasn't keen on waiting any longer either. "If you haven't finished yet, please bring your card to the front."

Reluctantly, they obliged and Danny shuffled all the cards with a careful sleight of hand. The topmost card was from Kwan, which said 'I like playing foot ball and I think you're really cool. Can you posessess a person and what does that feel like? Can we have snacks?'

"Alright, this one is asking if I can overshadow a person. I can do that, but I don't really like to for ethical reasons. How do I put this? It's like you're in a really hot Halloween costume, except that costume is made out of meat. If I ever have to, it's never for long."

A brown-haired girl in the front row raised her hand. Danny pointed to her.

"When have you had to do it?" she asked.

"More than I'd like. Usually, just in ghost fights whenever I need to get someone out of the way or need to be inconspicuous. I only ever used it for personal gain when I first figured out how to do it, and that was to save myself from a parent-teacher conference with, uh…" Against his better judgment, he risked a glance at Lancer who was starting to piece it together. "Next question!"

"Now, Mr. Fenton—"

"Mm, I can't hear you. Anyway, this next question is on snacks. Snacks are chill. I still don't get why some teachers don't let people eat, it's so dumb."

Lancer was still trying to non-verbally get his attention but he ignored him. They could have that discussion later. Or never. Hopefully never.

"This next one asks why I became a teacher. To be honest, I was offered the job a few months back because the school figured that I'm one of the only people who can really teach Ectology. Surprised me too, trust me. Once I was roped into this, I spent most of my summer prepping for this job. I spent a lot of time in the Ghost Zone, talking with other ghosts and brushing up on ghost literature. My parents were also really good tutors when it came down to the nitty-gritty science side of it."

"Why aren't they teaching, then?" Talia blurted.

"You ever met my parents?"

She and a few others shook their heads.

"They're… not good in a classroom setting."

At this, he flipped to the next card and had to keep himself from choking.

Are you single?

Yes, yes he was. But he was not going to say that to one of his fangirls, especially not one of his students. Especially when he was so close to getting everything right with Sam. She'd been dropping hints lately and he thought that meant he was supposed to ask her out, but he could never find the words. Just like he couldn't find the words right now to answer this stupid question.

"Mr. Fenton?"

He couldn't say no, because Sam would kill him if she found out he did say they were dating and then they'd never date because she'd be too mad at him. It was a goddamn catch-22.

"Uh, for who asked if I'm single or not—it's complicated?"

The class "ooh"ed in response. Danny wanted to die again.

"N—next question." He drew another card. "What's the green stuff on my face? Oh, funny story, well not really funny, but it's a burn. One of my parents' inventions blew up at me and normally I'd bleed red, but I think something in the device affected my ghost half so that's why the injury is green. It'll be gone by tomorrow. I just can't heal right now because of this," he held up his wrist for the class to see.

The boy with blue streaks raised his hand so Danny called on him.

"How fast can you heal?"

"Usually, injuries like this one take about two or three hours to go away. Major injuries like broken bones can take up to two days."

"Neat…"

Danny continued to sift through the cards and by the time he was finished, there were only ten minutes left in class. They'd had a good round of conversations and he'd been excited to learn from the cards that one guy, Sahil, aspired to work for NASA. He'd have to strike up a conversation about that sometime. Danny doubted he'd ever make it that far, but it was still fascinating to talk about. Though, speaking of future plans… this teaching thing might be something to consider. Even though it had only been one day, Ishiyama and Lancer had been right. He did have the skills and drive for it—despite his initial anxiety, it felt natural.

He would make his class a place that each of his students felt comfortable in.

Written for @phantomphangphucker’s Phic Phight Prompt: Danny Fenton teaching an Ectology/Ghost class at Casper High.

#Danny Phantom #Phic Phight #Phic Phight 2020 #Danny Fenton #Teacher!Danny #Valerie Gray #Lancer #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #Phicc #Phic #Fanfiction #wrwritings

[anthropwashere]

Phic Phight: it’s all downhill from here (honey don’t be scared)

Prompt from @aggressivelyclueless: Halfa Valerie AU: Valerie becomes half-ghost. Apart from that being a total nightmare, this also leads her to discover Danny's secret as well. How is she going to handle it?

@currentlylurking @phicphight

Word count: 7,825

=

Mr. Heppenheimer, the latest in a long line of chemistry teachers that have come through Casper High since actual, real life ghosts have begun treating Amity Park like their own personal Las Vegas retreat away from the rigors of whatever normal life is like for ghosts in the Ghost Zone, gives Danny a lingering stink eye. Clearly the last teacher, Mrs. Jamshidi (who barely lasted a month, and submitted her two-week notice while recovering in the hospital after an admittedly memorable encounter with Ember), had left notes behind for her successor. Danny doubted a single word of it was in his favor.

"This practical's worth a quarter of your grade this semester," Mr. Heppenheimer says in his usual droll way. "You're not going to make me regret handing you glassware, are you, Mister Fenton?"

Danny, still a bit sore and off-kilter after another Jack Fenton-approved growth spurt, grins down at him. "No, sir."

Mr. Heppenheimer hums doubtfully. Clearly Mrs. Jamshidi had left extensive notes. "Don't make me regret this."

"Short of a ghost attack, I doubt you will," Danny answers truthfully. He really has gotten a much better control on his powers since the last time any science teacher let him near anything fragile, well over a year ago now. Mrs. Gorman hated him from the start for reasons he never figured out, anyway. He's looking forward to a fresh start.

Of course, worryingly enough Danny’s been sensing a pretty powerful ghost lurking around Casper High for over a week now. Along with the usual big green beasties that like to come sniffing around crowds of humans, which he’s had to dip out to handle three times now. No one’s noticed his on-going ghost sense, though it helps that he’s long-since gotten into the habit of keeping one hand cupped lazily over his mouth—just in case. That’ll be harder to pass off here in a practical lab, but there ought to be a lot of things bubbling and steaming soon. He just has to be careful until he’s got some cover.

Mr. Heppenheimer hums again, more dismissive than doubtful, and lets him approach the counter. His partner in this practical is Star, which is—randomized, definitely. Whatever, also definitely. He and Star have as much in common as him and an actual star, which is to say—nothing. He doesn't even generate heat anymore, not really. He's got a modified Maddie Fenton-approved belt buckle that lets him fake it, but it's not remotely the same thing, and not a

ll that convincing at close quarters anyway. Star, at least, knows him well enough that she's been bringing a mint green cardigan to class ever since they were assigned project partners.

Danny, well-aware he’s only good in the eyes of his peers for a laugh and anti-ghost tech, smiles thinly at Star and gestures at her to take the lead. She sniffs pointedly and does just so, which is fine with him. She's well on her way to valedictorian, whereas he's just trying to graduate. If deferring to whatever she wants gets him a passing grade, sure! He'll do whatever she says and accept whatever belittling comment she tacks on along with it. No skin off his back, right?

About twenty minutes into class there's a magnificent crash of glass that puts Danny 110% on edge; it's only Sam appearing at his left with a reassuring hand on his arm that keeps him from blasting a hole through the wall out of pure reflex. Which, maybe, possibly, likely says something about his state of mind after three straight years of fighting the kind of monsters that don't have any place outside of his very worst nightmares, but—whatever. Point is, thanks to Sam, he doesn't trash the lab or draw any unwanted attention to himself, both of which are good things! Another point in his favor: it’s finally somebody else’s turn to destroy a whole tray of beakers.

"Miss—Gray!" Mr. Heppenheimer shouts after a brief glance at the clipboard Danny hasn't seen him put down in the two weeks since he took the job. "What's the meaning of this?!"

"S-sorry!" Valerie stammers, her eyes firmly on the mess at her feet. Her project partner, Wes, is scowling at Danny. Likely because he believes the mess is entirely his fault. Wes can believe whatever he likes; just because he's the only one not fully in on The Big Secret who figured out The Big Secret out doesn't make him automatically right 100% of the time. Case in point: now. Danny's only touched his notebook, where he's got three pages of dutifully written notes on what Star's tasked him to write as she did all the metaphorical heavy lifting. He could swear on a stack of Bibles that this latest chemistry accident doesn't have a thing to do with him. It’s kind of refreshing, honestly.

Mr. Heppenheimer hums again. It seems to be his default over all the loud swearing he'd obviously prefer to be doing. "Clean it up. And do be careful, Miss Gray. I'd prefer to avoid sending anyone to the nurse's office today if I can help it."

"I—yeah. Yes, sorry." Valerie dashes off to the closet where all the safety-slash-cleaning gear is stashed to fetch cat litter, broom, and dustpan. Star scoffs on Danny's right, while Sam, hand still firmly squeezing Danny's bicep, has a worryingly thoughtful scowl on.

"Valerie has been such a mess since her dad lost his job," Star remarks in the usual scathingly cruel A-lister tone.

"He got his job back." Danny points out as he tries to shrug Sam off without making a big deal of it.

"So?" Star's tone has shifted from scathing to incredulous, which means she somehow didn't know something Danny's known since the tail end of their freshman year. It's admittedly bizarre to find himself able to lord some classmate gossip over an A-lister, but—with a glance at Sam to confirm it is, in fact, cool to lord this gossip over an A-lister—he gives Star a slow, sly grin as he gestures her closer. She leans in without an ounce of self-restraint or disgust, which means Danny's moved higher up the food chain since the last time he bothered to pay any attention.

"Valerie's dad used to be some bigwig in Axion Labs," he says, one eye on Sam and the other on Tucker, both of whom in turn are watching the teacher and the rest of the class. Just in case. "After Vlad—uh. Vladco, I mean—took over the company, Mister Gray got his position back despite Phantom screwing him over, and it's been smooth sailing for him ever since."

The sound of Valerie sweeping up broken glass gets discordantly loud, somehow. Danny doesn't have to look at her to know she's glaring daggers at him. He sets his shoulders and sticks the angle of his nose twenty degrees snootier, mostly to spite whatever murderous and/or weepy glower Valerie might be trying to laser into his soul. Which, whatever. He knows the shape of his own soul by now. He knows it's Phantom, plus or minus some degree of fiery white hair and green-tinged skin.

A bit of the old guilt niggles in the back of his head though. Accident or not, it was Phantom who cost Mr. Gray his job in the first place and Vlad who gave it back. And Vlad only did it at all once he realized his favorite little ghost fighting minion would be a better thorn in Phantom’s side if she didn’t have to work a part-time job at the Nasty Burger. Which—well. Danny’s glad she doesn’t have to deal with that anymore, for all that it does make her a better thorn in his side.

But—guilt. Dumb guilt, but on his plate all the same. He manages to edge the conversation to some other Gossip with a capital G that even Star's not aware of. Oh the things a guy can hear when he can literally turn invisible. It's kind of fun, honestly, to fill her in. The rest of the hour is spent hissing old-as-shit hearsay that still manages to make Star's eyes light up like she's watching Paulina’s favorite cabin burn down again. They do, somehow, manage to get their project pushed along to step three, which will pick up with the rest of all the normal and unobtrusive partnered projects tomorrow. He's not sure which of them is to thank for that, but he is more than a little pleased with how neatly he wrote their notes. It's the most like a regular student he's felt in months. It's honestly pretty great!

"We have a problem," Tucker hisses no less than five seconds and no more than ten after the bell rings. It's that perfect middle ground time of everyone shoving all their shit into their bags so they can bolt out the classroom door as fast as normal-humanly possible, so it's also that perfect middle ground time of nobody paying the three of them the least bit of attention.

"You noticed too?" Sam asks with her usual omniscient scowl. Danny truly and whole-heartedly wishes she'd stop with that, but he's yet to find an opportunity where he can say that to her face without coming across as a total shitheel, including now, so he grits his teeth and raises a pointedly baffled eyebrow at the both of them.

"Noticed what?" He asks with a patience he hasn't actually felt since junior high.

"Valerie's—" Tucker does a casual look around to see if anyone's close enough to eavesdrop, intentionally or no, which means this is a Phantom Thing. And if this is something Phantom and Valerie related? Yeah, no, he's in too good a mood for whatever latest gadget or trick Vlad might be cooking up via Valerie.

He holds up a hand with a sigh he automatically pretends is a yawn to cover up the blue wisp that escapes with it. "Can this wait? Better yet, can we just—not? At least for today? I'm really not up for counter-scheming."

"No need for that," Tucker assures way too quickly. The nervous laugh he follows it up with really doesn't help.

"Right," Danny says wryly, but motions to let them talk. Sam and Tucker share one of those weird non-verbal psychic looks where they have a whole conversation in the span of two seconds that goes right over Danny's head. He wishes they’d stop doing that, but if he called them out on it they’d deny it loudly, and it’d be a whole thing, and—ugh.

"Valerie's acting weird," Tucker says once they've finished. "As in, 'we definitely need to intervene' weird."

"Possessed?"

"No. But this might be worse."

"But this isn't the first time she made a mess in class,” Sam says.

Danny slips his one (1) notebook and one (1) pencil into his bag. He's learned the hard way to pack light and get real good at shorthand, as well as keep all his textbooks down in the Fenton dungeon where they're least likely to get torched in a ghost fight. Again. "Isn't it?"

"Nope," Tucker says as they make their way to the door. Danny's sure to give Mr. Heppenheimer some ever-so-slightly iridescent stink eye of his own to make him flinch, and then doubt himself for flinching. One good turn, and all that. "Seventh actually. Third a teacher noticed, but she's been weirding out a lot of the other students."

Danny grunts, more interested in shouldering other people out of the way to make it easier for Sam and Tucker to squeeze out into the hall. Hey, may as well get some mileage out of being one of the tallest guys in school, right? 

Sam touches his elbow to make sure she's got his attention while they make their way to their next classes. She's got sign language, Tucker's got photography, and Danny's got a free hour to nap in the auditorium ceiling. "She's constantly dropping things, she's always shivering, every lie I've heard her tell a faculty member has been total nonsense, she hasn't gone after a single ghost in almost two weeks—"

"Well, that would explain why there's been an uptick in my fifth period snake-wrangling," Danny remarks dryly, then grins nastily at some girl giving him a serious case of side-eye. She squeaks—actually squeaks!—and ducks behind some broad-shouldered guy in an eye-wateringly neon football jersey.

Tucker wacks his other elbow, scowling up at him. "Dude, this is serious."

"I haven't heard a reason to care yet."

He doesn't have to look to see they're doing another round of psychic Concerned About Our Bestie back-and-forth. Sam's the one who trips him—damn her preference for steel-toed boots—but it's Tucker who shoves him into a nook between two battered banks of lockers. "Danny," they both snap.

He blinks down at them expectantly, staying quiet. Hey, they're the one's worried about the badass ghost fighting black belt who would love nothing more than an opportunity to strap Phantom down to an operating table and go wild with a cattle prod. He's just trying to graduate. Preferably with all his teeth.

"Valerie is acting just like you did freshman year," Sam hisses. "Right after the you-know-what."

Danny barks laughter. "Yeah, right."

Sam and Tucker remain stone-cold serious. Worse, they look worried.

They wouldn't suggest something so crazy without a lot of thought put into it.

Fuck.

= 

It's another two days before Danny gets a good—"good"—opportunity to talk to Valerie one-on-one. During that time he sees first-hand no less than 37 incidents of irrefutable acts of half-ghost-hood. How nobody else—including that ass, Wes!—has caught on yet is nothing short of a miracle. Valerie cut ties with every other person in their graduating class after some disastrous party embarrassment Danny never cared enough to find out the details of secondhand. She's kept her head down and her teeth bared at anybody who’s tried to meet her halfway, and it seems everyone's accepted the fact that Valerie Gray is the second worst delinquent in the entire school.

(The first is him, naturally.)

He corners her three minutes before the bell to end lunch will ring. He's got calculus next—an unexpected good turn in his life that still makes him giggle every time he actually has time to do his homework—and she's got English. They can't afford to skip either class, but hey, you only half-die once, right?

She scowls up at him, twitching her head out of a habit she's not yet broken. She only shaved her head a month ago. He's still reeling over how good she looks, and also how much it makes her look like the awesome older Valerie from the horrible future where he and Vlad ghost-melded and murdered a dismayingly large number of humans. If that future is still somehow lingering out there in the tangled fabric of spacetime like a bad hangnail, he’s pretty sure that Valerie died, fullstop. 

He’d like it if he could do something to help this Valerie not die, fullstop. 

She scowls up at him harder. "What do you want?"

He allows himself another couple seconds to just—bask. Yes, she's hot as hell, and if they were both normal humans she could easily break him over her knee like a fistful of kindling. He's not yet gotten an inch of the Fenton width. He's basically all elbows, and it's now all but impossible to find shoes in his size. It's great, really, just super.

Mostly though, he holds his breath and lets his ghost sense settle in a chilly, wriggly knot in his lungs. How the hell did he not realize she was the cause before now?

He smiles down at her. It becomes immediately apparent that this is the worst possible thing he could have chosen to do. He stops smiling. Somehow that's worse.

"We need to talk," he says, and immediately wants to hit himself. Has daytime television not taught him anything? That's the worst thing he could have said!

"I don't think so," she says, and tries to edge past him. He catches her elbow—

—and she's got him smashed up against a classroom door before he can even blink. 

"Uh," they say at the same time. He feels one of her hands go ice cube cold against his skin. Since it's him and not a normal person, it's far more likely her hand just dropped to some negative three-digit temperature. If he were human, he'd be at risk for frostbite. As he's not, it's more like a refreshing breeze. He swears he even gets a whiff of the Ghost Zone off of her; like a hard shock of static on his tongue in a midnight snowfall. It's... nice. Is that what he smell-feels like? 

Hmm. Distracting himself. Best to stop doing that.

She realizes after too long a beat of awkward silence that one of her arms has gone full-ghostly, and springs back with a half-hysterical yelp. He turns around to look at her again, rolling his shoulder out of a long habit of pretending that Dash trying to rough him up actually feels like anything. She looks—

Well. Kind of like some kind of frazzled toy dog that's had to deal with way too many idiot humans manhandling her, and like she's pissed that all the finger-biting she's tried has only gotten her a bunch of braindead cooing. Danny finds himself sympathizing, and also like maybe he needs to vent to somebody else aside from Cujo on their 3 a.m. Thursday walkies. He considers several facial expressions he could make at her, dismisses all of them, and settles on upping the grimacing and shoulder-rolling. It sort of works? She looks guilty, which is honestly one of the better reactions she could be leveling at him right now.

"We really do need to talk, actually," he says, feigning an apologetic tone while pretending very hard he hasn’t noticed her left arm suddenly stops at the elbow. 

"Pretty sure we don't," she retorts.

He makes a show of rolling his eyes, and then a show of looking pointedly at her invisible arm. She looks down at herself, does a double-take, yelps again, and hides both of her arms behind her back as she makes several stammering attempts at a believable excuse. Danny winces, torn between sympathy and secondhand embarrassment. Sam was right; this is exactly how he stumbled his way through the first six months of figuring out his powers. At least he had the benefit of a couple of friends and eventually Jazz too to help cover his tracks. Valerie's on her own. She's going to get found out at this rate, and accidentally or not she will drag him and Vlad down with her.

"It's okay," he says calmly.

"Everything's fine I don't know what you're talking about!" 

He looks at her, unimpressed, until she looks appropriately embarrassed. "Let's try this again," he says, and puts both hands up to stall when she goes to retort. "Please?"

She purses her lips, huffing through her nose, but nods. Good enough.

"You're not okay," he tells her. "You're freaking out because something crazy happened to you, and you don't have anybody to turn to for answers without risking everything. You think you're a monster, or that you're dead, or you're dying, or some shitty combination of all of the above. You're scared because you can't control what's happening, and you're scared because you know you're gonna get caught at this rate, and you're scared because you know exactly what the GIW does to the ecto-entities it manages to get its hands on, because you're the reason half the ghosts that frequent Amity Park have done time in a GIW containment cell. Right?"

Valerie stares.

She keeps staring. 

Eventually her mouth starts making some feeble attempt at protest.

A while after that she musters up the stamina to stammer out, "W-whahaaat are you talking about? I think you've got—ha! The wrong idea! Yeah! I bet you're thinking I'm, uh. Um. Possessed! Yes! I'm definitely possessed! You caught me, oh fuck, I'm definitely just another one of Walker's goons—nobody important though! No nefarious schemes going on either, honest! I just, uh, wanted to take a human… out for a spin? Yes, that’s what I’m doing. You definitely don't need to say anything to your parents—"

"Valerie," he says.

Her mouth snaps shut so hard her teeth click. She looks terrified, furious, and miserable all at once. She looks like she knows she's cornered, caught red-handed, and like she fully expects Danny to rat her out. Does she really think so little of him?

He winces inwardly. Of course she does. She's kept him at arm's length since freshman year because he never owned up the truth to her. She's been protecting him from himself all this time by staying away. She only knows the front he puts on for everybody else.

The bell rings. In a matter of seconds this hallway is going to be packed with students, and this is not a conversation to risk anyone overhearing. He looks around. Their options are to either continue this wedged in a janitor's closet (she'd probably shoot him), ghost her up to the roof (she'd definitely shoot him) or duck into a classroom. Luck's on his side for once. He'd cornered her just outside the wreckage of the wood shop; it's not going to be fit to teach in until after they graduate, and even the other, regular delinquents know better than to hang out anywhere with that much Fenton ectobiological hazard caution tape. 

He nods toward the door. "Please?"

She looks like she'd much rather go toe-to-tail with Desiree, but the sound of a crowd surging their way decides for her. She bolts for the door, Danny at her heels, and they're in and hidden out of sight before anyone could see them go. He watches through a small hole in a stretch of opaque plastic sheeting, patiently waiting for the rest of the school to disperse into their various classrooms. There're too many holes in the wood shop's walls to risk talking even with all the noise out there. 

Eventually the hall outside quiets. The late bell rings. It's about as safe as it'll ever get to have this talk.

"I can explain," she begins, her voice quiet and shaken. 

"You don't have to," he says, and turns on the scary eyes as he faces her. 

Three years of fighting nightmare monsters hasn't done Valerie the right kind of favors either. A metal cube materializes over her shoulder and flares brightly as it powers up a shot. She in turn steps smoothly into a defensive stance, light humming up and down her as she... doesn't pull her ghost-fighting suit out of the spectral hammerspace it sloughs off to whenever she doesn't need it. He blinks. He looks at the cube properly once it becomes clear she isn't going to shoot him. The light coming off it isn't pink anymore, but the same ghost-green as his own powers.

"Explain," she growls.

Probably not a good time for jokes. He keeps his serious face on, scary eyes and all. "I was in an accident freshman year. My parents couldn't get their ghost portal to work. They got lax about not letting Jazz and I down there unsupervised. I took Sam and Tucker down there one afternoon while they were out. One thing led to another, and I accidentally got their portal to work. While I was standing inside it."

She winces. Not like Jazz or Wes did when he stammered out the story to them just so they'd stop asking. Not in sympathy as they tried to imagine what that would have felt like and falling a thousand miles short (not that he ever said so). She gives him the same look he's seen in the mirror every time a bad dream of that day grabs him by the throat and shocks him awake. She knows.

"Don't shoot," he jokes weakly, and reaches for that cold spark that shares the same illogical, impossible space as his heart. 

Another three cubes appear in a neat arc over her head when he changes, not that he blames her. She's just found out she dated her sworn enemy once upon a time. He's definitely surprised she doesn't shoot. She does go a bit deer in the headlights again, but more like a ghost deer that's just as likely to shoot lasers as it might bolt into traffic. "I," she tries. "You. You're. The whole goddamn time?!"

"Okay," he says. "Point of order. Cujo really wasn't my dog yet when I got your dad fired. That was an accident and I'm still very, very sorry about that."

Her eyes go ghost-red. "You wanna try that again?"

He sucks air in through his teeth, sighs out another blue wisp. She's doing it too. Has been the whole conversation actually, and plenty of other times before. He wonders if she's figured out what it means yet. He adds it to the list he's mentally compiling, keeps his hands up, and starts running his mouth as contritely as he can. 

=

The sun's almost set by the time Danny's really, truly, fully convinced Valerie not to turn him into the half-ghost equivalent of Swiss cheese. He's so hungry he feels like he's nursing a gut wound, but he thinks it's the smart choice to not suggest talking all of this out over dinner. It's not like his allowance (and black hole of an appetite) would pay for more than clearing out the dollar menu at Jack-in-the-Box, and no way is he stupid enough to suggest Valerie pay. So he remains perched on one of the few remaining tables left in the wood shop, still in Phantom mode mostly to watch Valerie grind her teeth. She's sitting cross-legged on another table, cubes and scary eyes gone. She's reached the fun sort of balance between bone-tired exhaustion and impotent frustration with no good outlet that isn't the kind of violence that will draw a lot of unwanted attention. She sits there and stews awhile, turning over everything he's told her.

He pulls out his phone—tossing her a wry grin when she flinches—and lets her stew. He shoots out a "safe, taking longer than a thought it would" into the group chat he's got with Sam, Tucker, and Jazz. Tucker lets him know he's rooting for him, and also they handled the Box Ghost's usual afternoon showing with a game of checkers, and Wulf's in town avoiding Walker again. Sam reminds him to work on his book report if Valerie doesn't skin him alive first. He shoots back a neutral affirmative to them both, then pulls up Bubble Blaster to kill time until Valerie feels like talking—

"It was two weeks ago," she starts.

Danny resists the urge to sigh and pockets his phone again. Well, he mimes pocketing his phone. It sort of phases into that weird imaginary skin between his halves with a buzz of protest. When he changes back it'll be in his back right pocket, fully charged. 

"Mister Masters," she pauses to make this really complicated grimace, like she'd sort of prefer calling Vlad something like Captain Fuckface but she's too polite to do it aloud. Danny makes a mental note to call Vlad exactly that the next time they run into each other. The fruitloop'll make a hilarious noise, he just knows it. "Mister Masters sent me info on another job. He told me some of his employees at Axion Labs had reported some ghost sightings, and my dad had mentioned seeing some weird stuff too, so. So I snuck out and went to go check it out. It didn't sound like anything bad, just. Y'know. Another ghost."

Two weeks ago her tone would have been one of complete, dismissive disgust. Two weeks ago she was still human though. Danny stays quiet, which is probably the smart thing to do.

"There was something on my radar when I got there. I thought it was gonna be you, honestly—" She glares, a flicker of red coloring her eyes. He shrugs and gives her a charming grin that's all, Who, me? She doesn't buy it for a second, not that he expected her too. Two weeks ago Vlad was being a real prick though, setting all sorts of nasty ghoulies he'd Frankenstein'd in his super gross secret lab loose in the downtown area. Danny's honestly not sure if he got any sleep for like, four straight days. There was a lot of doctored coffee involved, by which he means the kind of coffee a regular human couldn't drink without requiring a fairly immediate trip to the ER. 

(Tucker Foley tested.)

"Most of the reports were from some department I've never heard my dad talk about, and it's all three levels underground. If Technus hadn't juiced my suit up again I don't think I could've gotten down there—"

That's an alarm bell Danny super doesn't like the sound of. "Again?"

She waves her hand dismissively that's all, So last year, honey, try and keep up. "Doesn't matter. Point is, I got down there, and it—well. It looked like the Fen—uh. Your parents' lab. Kind of identical, actually. In a kinda creepy way."

Yeah, that's Vlad all over. Kinda creepy and not all that original. Oh well. He raises his eyebrows pointedly.

"Uh. Well, my radar went crazy down there, but I still couldn't get a real bead on anything. So I went poking around and found the framework of this—well, portal. I didn't realize it was a portal though, since it didn't look like the one in your parents' lab. It was standing on its own in the middle of the room, covered in cables—"

"Ours is a mess too," he points out. "You can't tell unless it's off though. I'm not really sure where all those cables and weird hunks of tech go while it's on...."

She gives him a look like she's regretting not shooting him earlier. He does the smart thing by not pointing out that shooting him is still very much on the table, and that if history's anything to go by she's a huge fan of shooting him. He can't help but think that opinion might, just possibly, if he's very lucky, have changed in the last couple of hours. Fingers crossed? Those cube cannon things hurt like a bitch.

"I was looking around that thing because it was freaking my radar out when Plas—Mister Masters showed up."

He reels a bit. She must've expected it, because it's her turn to raise her eyebrows pointedly. "Wait," he says, holding his hands up in a time out T. "Wait a minute. You knew he's Plasmius? The whole goddamn time?!"

"No," she snaps. "Only after Danielle."

"That's nearly the whole goddamn time. What the hell, he's been lording you over me as a reason not to blab the truth for years. For fuck's sake, Valerie—"

"You wanna maybe shut up and let me finish, ghost kid?"

He scowls. She scowls back, plus scary eyes. He's pretty sure she's not doing it intentionally, so the effect's not as impressive as it could be. Red continues to be a great color for her though, not that he's dumb enough to say that.

"Plasmius showed up, blasted me into the portal, and hit the switch before I could do anything," she bites out, hunching in on herself like she's wishing the ground would swallow her whole—aaaand there she goes, sinking through the table. He clears his throat loudly, she realizes what's going on and ends up flailing around like an idiot for a few seconds until her body gets physical enough to stay put. 

"Sam was right," he muses. "This is entertaining."

"Fuck you," she snaps without much venom. Mostly she sounds tired.

He sighs, hating himself a little for reasons he's not gonna explore right now. He's too hungry for introspection. "Did he evil-monologue why he did that to you?"

"A little. I was kinda out of it, after." She grimaces, gesturing at herself. "I didn't catch all of it. Something about being a distraction for you, though I didn't know that he meant you at the time."

"Oh goodie, this evil plot has layers, and ruining your life is apparently a fucking footnote." He scrubs his face with both hands and changes back into his plain Jane self. Valerie twitches badly, eyes flashing red and a fun eye-watering white shimmer shivering up her whole body. Huh. "Hey, have you tried changing back since that asshat zapped you?"

"Of course not," she hisses, looking at him like he just suggested she go streaking through the administration office. "I'm trying to keep a low profile while I figure out a way to fix what he did to me."

Ah, hell.

"I'm sorry," seems the smart thing to start with. He hops off the table, hands up where she can see them as he approaches her. He takes a risk at reaching for her hands. She surprises him again by continuing to not shoot him. "I'm really, really sorry. But there's no fixing this. You just get—better at being this." He squeezes a little when she starts shaking her head and pulling away, amping up the 'I'm sorry for your loss' face he's had to get way too good at. Superhero, he ain't. "I'm serious. Vlad's been like me—like us—since like, '85 or whenever he got zapped by a proto-portal, and he got really sick after."

Her eyes go big and laser pointer red again. "S-sick?"

"Ecto-acne. Ever hear of it?" She shakes her head. "You'll probably be okay, if Axion's portal is based on my parents' portal, or even Vlad's."

"He has a portal?"

"In Wisconsin," he confirms grimly. "He's been trying to build a second one ever since he moved here, but I kept messing with him. I didn't think to check the basements of any of his evil companies."

"Axion Labs isn't evil," she retorts instead of doing the sensible thing and blaming him outright for the shit she’s mired in for keeps. 

He raises an eyebrow. "Sure. And Invis-o-Bill really is hellbent on establishing a ghost-human empire capital in Amity fucking Park."

She winces.

"Wait. You didn't actually believe that, did you?"

She winces harder.

"Ohhhh Valerie," he sighs, dropping her hands to melodramatically sag against another table. "I'm wounded. Honestly, truthfully, hurt that you'd think so highly of fucking Invis-o-Bill. Haven't you been paying attention to the shit the gossip mags shill about me? I'm either a ghost blob with delusions of grandeur in a skinsuit or the ostracized son of Pariah Dark and Desiree. You don't think my evil ghost parents have been around enough to teach me how to be a good evil emperor, do you?"

She's trying—and failing—not to laugh. "Shut up. How was I supposed to know what to believe, huh? None of the ghosts ever say shit about you."

"Yeah, 'cause they're cool with keeping my secret!"

She presses forward to jab a finger in his chest. She's still kind of flicker-y at the edges, like she hasn't quite decided she isn't going to go full ghost hunter on him, so it sort of feels like another hard burst of static. Goosebumps break out all down his skin; it's all he can do not to shiver. "What's with that, anyway? Most of 'em are so hellbent on destroying you for stopping them again and again, but none of them have ever come blabbing your big life-ruining secret to me or your parents!"

He shrugs. "Honestly? I don't think it's ever occurred to any of them. I'm pretty sure Skulker's the only one who knows like, for sure that Vlad's the same as me, and that's only 'cuz he likes to take jobs from Vlad now and then. The others?" Another, more expansive shrug as he slides sideways out of her range. So she makes him uneasy. What about it? She's only shot him point blank like, five hundred times if she's done it once. He'd really like to get out of this whole situation without any new burns to hide.

"Huh," she says. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. It's not—I dunno. I think it'd be like cheating for most of 'em to go blabbing to some humans or even Vlad. They wanna take me down, sure, but they wanna do it on their own steam. I'm definitely not complaining."

"Course you're not, because you are ludicrously overpowered compared to most of the ghosts out there itching for a little world domination."

He grins down at her, big and sloppy. "Hey, give it some time and you'll be OP as fuck too."

She reacts to that little nugget of wisdom just like he expected her to; retreating halfway across the room and shrinking in on herself like she's dearly wishing for a bit of time travel to undo what Vlad did to her on a selfish whim. Well. A conversation with Clockwork is an option still on the table. He'll give her a few more days of adjustment before suggesting a fun little jaunt into the Ghost Zone. He's honestly not sure if Clockwork and her are properly acquainted. That should be good for a laugh if nothing else. 

"Hey," he says companionably. "I mean it. You're gonna be okay."

She scoffs. He pretends not to hear the dampness to it. "Oh, sure. So long as I do exactly what you say, right?"

"This isn't blackmail," he says, injecting as much calm as he can to his voice. "Honest. I mean, I won't lie and pretend I'm not hoping you listen to me. If you get found out it's both of our necks on the chopping block. Sure, I'll make sure Vlad takes the fall too, so that's some nice revenge wrapped with a bow, but it's not like we'd be around to really appreciate it, y'know?"

She makes another, slightly damper noise. He considers the risk of hugging her against the risk of walking away with all his parts where they ought to be, and he decides the smart thing is to stay put and pretend right along with her that she's definitely not crying.

"I want to help you, Valerie. I've been where you're at. I know how much it sucks. And I had Sam and Tucker helping me while I tried to figure it all out. You... you need somebody to help you. Trust me on this much at least, okay? This isn't something you can do alone."

Her various damp noises evolve into an outright sob. "Fuck."

Yeah. That about sums it up.

"Fuck," she hisses out again, pawing roughly at her face. "This. I didn't want—all this time and you never—I coulda killed you but you didn't—and now I'm—!"

Okay. Yeah. Superheroes don't leave anybody to cry so miserably on their own. He's hardy. Even if she shoots him he can hang out, make sure she's okay to get home on her own. And they both skipped their last two classes. He ought to go rummage around their teachers' desks and try to figure out what tonight's homework is. She's got every reason to burn her textbooks and scream fuck it at the moon (Danny's sophomore year was a personal low point), and it's just as likely Skulker will pull some new scheme to try and skin him tonight as any other school night, but it's the principle of the thing. They're both just trying to graduate at this point, and they're so close. 

It might seem so incredibly, completely stupid, to care about graduating with all the other bullshit in their lives. Most days, it is stupid to care. But there are some days that stupid, pointless piece of paper is the only reason Danny chooses to get out of bed. He chooses to remember that he's still human enough for human consequences. He needs that diploma to get into college, and he needs to get into college so he can earn his bachelor's, and he needs to be stable enough to earn his pilot's license, and then somehow net 1,000 hours as pilot-in-command in a fucking jet, and on and on and on, because there's still this stupid, stupid, stupid little voice in his head that won't shut up about how cool it'd be to actually manage to become an astronaut despite—

—everything.

He wants to ask what Valerie wanted to be when she grew up, but that's... not now. That's a conversation for later, if he's lucky enough that she'll trust him with that little, foolish dream every kid clings to even when they're loudly proclaiming how stupid it is. Everybody grows up and realizes how stupid the dream jobs they wanted when they were kids was; it's the real dreamers that grit their teeth and keep working despite—

—everything.

He takes the risk, the leap of faith. He closes the distance between them and plays a pattern across her shoulder to warn her he's coming in for a hug. No cubes or guns or accidental ecto-rays materialize to blast him into next week, so he calls it a win and finishes the deed. She's all hunched shoulders and hard fingers knotted in his shirt, hot tears and probably some snot at war with how neutrally temperature-wise the rest of her feels. Everybody else—everybody human—feels hot as a sunburn if he gets too close. Ghosts are still too cold, though thanks to his handy-dandy ice powers none of them are ever cold enough to hurt like humans do. 

Here and now, hugging Valerie and whispering soft, pointless bullshit into her frizzy hair is the closest to human he's felt in—

—in too long.

"I'm sorry," she says.

"Don't be," he replies, instead of Me too.

"Thank you," she says.

"Nothin' to thank me for," he replies, instead of You should be blaming me for this.

"I'm scared," she says.

"It's going to be okay," he replies, and means it.

=

It's almost nine by the time he makes it to Sam's house, and he's so hungry he tunnel visions twice on the flight over. Lucky him, his friends and secret keepers know how bullshit his anatomy is, and there's a veritable buffet awaiting him when he gets there. Luckier him, his friends and secret keepers know better than to try and hold a Serious Conversation when he's like this, and leave him alone for the better part of 20 minutes before they both start loudly clearing their throats.

He slows his flawless imitation of a combine harvester long enough to muster a, "Hngh?"

Sam and Tucker waste precious moments he could be upping his calorie count with another psychic conversation that they're clearly both enjoying. He scowls, for all the good it'll do him.

"How'd it go?" Sam asks.

"Well," he says, setting his fork down to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Manners, schmmaners. "She didn't shoot me."

"Damn it," Tucker says loudly, and pulls out his phone.

"Seriously?" Danny asks.

"He owes Jazz twenty bucks," Same explains as Tucker begins a furiously-typed text. Danny suppresses the urge to shudder. Something about the haptic feedback on cell phones really sets him on edge. He genuinely doesn't know if it's a pet peeve or a ghost thing. Either way he always has to squash the insane urge to pitch Tucker's phone at the nearest brick wall, and right now that is an honest struggle.

"Seriously?" He repeats. "You bet against me?"

Tucker pauses long enough to level an incredulous glare at him. "Dude."

...yeah, okay. That's fair. Danny would've bet against himself too, if he'd known to. 

"Rude," he says anyway, on principle. 

Sam and Tucker both make a huge show of rolling their eyes, but at least Sam pushes another three slices of pizza in his direction. They even ordered in, so there's actual meat and cheese on it. He has the best friends a guy could ask for, even if Tucker is an ass nine times out of ten. Serves him right to lose 20 bucks, voting against him against his sister of all people.

"Details," Sam demands. "How's she doing, what happened, is she gonna stop trying to kill you, et cetera."

"Vlad happened," he manages through half a slice of pizza. Sam and Tucker both wince; Tucker hard enough he actually drops his phone.

"Fuck," Tucker hisses. "Why?"

"Dunno yet. And I dunno about you, but figuring out his latest scheme has definitely become number one on my honey do list."

They both nod. Tucker's the one to ask the important follow up. "And Valerie? How's she doing?"

He makes a seesaw motion with one hand. "Again, gotta stress the whole 'didn't shoot me' thing." He grins real sleazily while Tucker groans. "She's not great though. I foresee the next like, two months helping her out taking priority over all the usual ghost bullshit. Short of like, apocalyptic ghost attacks, of course."

"Fair," Sam and Tucker both say. Sam gives him a pointed capital L Look, going so far as to pull his plate a few inches away so he can better direct his instinctive growl at her. "She's not gonna rat, is she?"

"No," comes out more snarl-y than he means it to, but—pizza. Sam takes him at face value at least, and gives him his plate back, with an extra slice of meat lover's for good behavior. She's his favorite. 

"We're gonna co-op," he adds, and pretends not to notice the Extraordinarily Concerned Psychic Look Sam and Tucker share over that bit of news. Whatever. They can stress over the idea of Valerie being included in their group. Him? He's gonna polish off the rest of this pizza, pull his one (1) notebook and one (1) pencil out of his bag, and he's going to get as much of a headstart on his homework before patrol as he can. If he actually manages to finish his two pages of grammar problems he's going to call it a great day. Anything else? Well, that's gravy so far as he's concerned. 

He grins to himself a little, thinking of Valerie's new phone number burning a hole in his pocket. If anything toothsome decides to show up tonight he got the okay to text her. And honestly? For all that she's in the same bullshit hell as he, Vlad, and Elle are....

Well. It's probably shitty of him, but it's still nice to have an ally and friend in this half-ghost bullshit hell.

#danny phantom #my writing #valerie gray #gray ghost #phic phight 2020

[darks-ink]

Got My Reasons

“Doing the right thing for the wrong reason doesn’t make it good!” His glow flickered wildly, coalescing and twirling like flames. His eyes burned bright like a jack-’o-lantern’s. “Just because you helped me doesn’t make you the better person!” “You practically served yourself up to us,” she retorted, her voice flat. “What else did you expect, a heavily injured ghost unconscious in the vehicle of ghost hunters?”

Prompt: After being seriously wounded in a fight, Danny collapses inside the Fenton GAV to recoup. When his parents are called to the ghost sighting a few minutes later, however, they don’t notice who they’ve brought along for the ride Prompt by: @sapphireswimming Word count: 7,625

[AO3] [FFN] [more Phic Phight fics]

Content warning: descriptions of serious injuries, kinda terrible medical practice. The usual. But it’s all okay in the end!

---

The GAV screeched to a sudden halt, Maddie already half out the door before it had stopped. The ghost on the road in front of them roared, baring oversized fangs at the vehicle.

She rushed around the car, pulling open the doors in the back with force. A weapon. That’s all she needed. A weapon, ASAP.

The thought distracted her enough that she stumbled, almost falling over something out of place in the GAV. She barely caught herself on one of the shelves, already turning to scold Jack, when she saw—

“Phantom,” she whispered, feeling her brain grind to a halt.

Because it was, without a doubt, Phantom. The ghost seemed to be severely injured, splattered in green ectoplasm. It dripped over Phantom’s side, staining the wall of the GAV that he leaned against. One hand was pressed loosely against his side, but the ghost’s eyes were closed, and he hadn’t responded to her tripping over him, either. Passed out? But that wasn’t possible, was it?

She bit her lip. The ghost outside was a bigger threat. Maddie knew she had to focus on that one, first. Phantom was clearly in no state to leave, but…

Her hand touched the familiar metal curve of a Fenton Thermos.

Without another thought, she uncapped the device. Phantom was dragged in without another movement, not even stirring in the slightest. This was a perfect opportunity to study him, and the Thermos would preserve him until the right time.

With that settled, Maddie turned to grab a gun. Jack needed her. Phantom would come later.

---

“Uh, Maddie?” Jack’s voice rang from the back of the car, and she paused. “Why is there ectoplasm splattered all over the inside of the GAV?”

She blinked for a moment before realization struck. “It’s Phantom!” she yelled back, already turning to walk back. “I found him seriously injured and passed out in the back of the van, but we had to go deal with that attacking ghost.”

Now next to her husband, she clambered inside. The Thermos was still where she had left it, and she grabbed it. Let’s not get that one confused with the others. “I caught him in this Thermos. Not sure how bad his injuries really are, but this way he would be stable until we could look at him.”

“Good thinking!” Jack grinned, climbing into the GAV next to her to stow their weapons. “Passed out, though?”

“He didn’t move, not even when I tripped on him.” She frowned at the Thermos in her hand. “It was… strange. He was completely unresponsive, but he was still together. Leaking ectoplasm, but only from his injuries. Not destabilized.”

“Odd,” her husband agreed, clicking the last gun into its place. “I guess we have our work cut out for us!”

“Indeed.” She turned the Thermos, slowly, gazing at the meter in its side. It was startlingly full, a measure not just of mass but also of a ghost’s strength. Considering that Phantom was the only one in the Thermos… “Why don’t you drive us back, honey?”

His excitement would turn him in an even more reckless driver than usual, she guessed, but… she didn’t want to risk Phantom escaping.

Briefly, she considered clipping the Thermos onto her belt, but no. It felt safer in her hands, even as she had to take one off of the device to climb into the passenger’s seat of the GAV.

Their drive back home was… well. It was certainly fast.

Before she knew it, Maddie was clambering out of the GAV with one hand, the Thermos clenched in her other. “I’ll go prep the lab. Jack, bring in the spent weaponry and the other ghost, please?”

“Gotcha!” He bounded away to the back of the GAV while Maddie walked to their front door, quickly unlocking it. The house was empty inside—Danny was off with his friends, and Jazz away to the library—but that had become rather common these days.

At least she wouldn’t have to worry about either of them protesting their capture of Phantom. She didn’t understand it, the youth’s insistence that the ghost was good, but she certainly didn’t understand how her own children had fallen for Phantom’s tricks.

Well, it would be a problem no longer. Once she and Jack were done with their studies of Phantom, the ghost would no longer trick anybody.

Maddie left the Thermos on one of the mostly empty tables, quickly putting away the few things that were on it. She rolled a trolley over, paused. Rolled her eyes and emptied that, too.

By the time Jack had made it downstairs, their used weaponry stacked in a pile to the side—she made a quick mental note to make sure those were taken care of later—Maddie had finished preparing the table and the trolley. She had stalled out a large assortment of tools they might want or need for their inspection of Phantom.

There were no straps on the table—they had removed them due to the diversity in ghosts’ bodies—but she didn’t think they would need them, anyway. Phantom had been so weakened… He hadn’t even fought back when she’d tripped over him, when she’d captured him.

“Ready, Jack?” she asked, picking up the Thermos again. “We won’t know how he’ll act.”

“Ready,” her husband confirmed. He flexed his fingers, the metal ghost-proof gauntlets shifting with the movement. “I’ll hold him if he tries to escape.”

Maddie nodded, twisting the cap off of the Thermos. With a whir, it unloaded its contents, spitting Phantom onto the table.

The ghost groaned as he hit the surface, his limbs twitching slightly. He seemed slightly more awake than in the GAV, but not much. Didn’t even try to leave the table.

Ectoplasm gushed from several injuries all over Phantom’s body, the liquid spilling onto the table already.

“Not looking good, Phantom,” Jack commented, disengaging the gauntlets. Clearly they wouldn’t need them to restrain Phantom.

Phantom groaned again, a warble of sound that might’ve been intended as an answer. Definitely awake, then, but in poor condition.

She moved to roll him onto his back. Frowned at the deep slice in his side, right where the ribs would be on a human. The inside of the injury glimmered with fresh ectoplasm but it didn’t spill, not nearly as freely as she would’ve expected. No, the surface-level ectoplasm seemed… almost crystallized, a solid instead of a liquid.

Frowning, with one hand bracing Phantom, she reached in. The ectoplasm certainly felt solid under her probing finger.

Phantom groaned again, his left arm shifting slightly, like a weak attempt at batting her away.

“He seems to have some form of ectoplasmic bones,” she reported to Jack, finally rolling Phantom over all the way. The ghost twitched, his left hand wandering back to the slice. His eyes, he kept closed. “But his injuries are severe. He might destabilize before we finish our research.”

“That’d be a waste.” Jack frowned at the ghost on their table, too. “We’ll have to stabilize him. This is the first ghost with those kind of traits we’ve seen. We can’t risk losing him.”

That, at least, they agreed on. “We’ll need to close the injuries, stop him from losing too much ectoplasm. Can you get a needle and thread?” She looked back at Phantom, his complexion seeming to pale. “Fishing line if you can find it, but normal thread might be enough to tide him over for now.”

Phantom muttered something again, a whining noise that didn’t quite make it to words. It was odd. Maddie had been sure the ghost always spoke in perfect English, yet he seemed to be conversing in something else now. She was almost tempted to consider it a ghostly language of sorts, but why would such a thing exist? Ghosts weren’t intelligent enough for a society, let alone a language that drove such a thing.

“I found some fishing line, but not nearly enough for all his injuries.” Jack handed her the first aid kit, a sterile needle and clean thread, as well as a ball of tangled phase-proof wire. “… and I’ll have to untangle it first,” he added on, sheepishly.

“We’ll have to risk the normal thread.” She reached for the needle, then paused. Looked at Phantom. “It… His structure seems far more complicated than that of other ghosts. Should we see if he has a layer of skin underneath the jumpsuit? Stitching the two together might cause harm.”

Jack nodded, already grabbing Phantom’s right hand—the one not pressed against an injury. He hooked his fingers underneath the edge of Phantom’s white glove, carefully peeling it off.

As she had half expected, the glove came off entirely, damaged but not destabilizing even when removed from the ghost it belonged to. And underneath it, Phantom’s hand was… almost normal. The skin was the same cool tone as his face, a thousand small details she never would’ve expected a ghost to have, especially on a surface not usually exposed to sight.

“Let’s strip the rest, too,” Jack said, dropping the glove next to Phantom’s side. He reached for Phantom’s left hand, but hesitated. “The jumpsuit, at least. But, Maddie, what detail.”

“He’s unlike every other ghost we’ve tested so far,” she agreed. From this close, she could see the exquisite detail in Phantom’s clothing, too. A zipper hidden in the edge of his collar, which she tugged down to unzip the front of his suit. “And you couldn’t even tell from the way he acted! I wonder how many more are like this? Is it related to their strength?”

Phantom’s jumpsuit peeled apart to reveal a pale chest. Several smaller cuts littered his front, previously unnoticed due to the splatters of ectoplasm. The structure of it was, again, oddly detailed and human like.

Jack whistled, low. “What a scar, Mads! I wonder if it’s related to his death?”

“Why would he have scars of an event he doesn’t remember?” She zipped the jumpsuit down to his belt, working his right arm out of the sleeve. “I’d consider it more likely that it’s an old injury he got in a ghost fight. Maybe he kept it for intimidation purposes, to show that he won from a ghost with a certain level of power.”

“But then, why not show it off?” Jack asked, helping her by lifting Phantom up slightly. The ghost groaned, quietly, but didn’t try to stop them. “Why hide it under his suit?”

“He might’ve changed his appearance to appear more tame towards Amity Park’s citizens.” She rolled the right side of the jumpsuit down to Phantom’s hips, but that left the other side. “Jack, why don’t you keep pressure on that cut, and I’ll take off the rest of the jumpsuit?”

Her husband nodded, bustling over to press his hands against Phantom’s side. The ghost hissed, a strange warble and click to the sound, like a layer of audible static. His left hand batted at Jack’s hand, weakly, but it stilled quickly. The ghost went limp against the table.

“Did he pass out?” Jack asked, leaning over Phantom without taking his hands off of the injury. “Well, that’ll make our job easier, at least.”

She hummed as she peeled off Phantom’s left glove, slick with ectoplasm. His hand was sturdier than she would’ve expected of a ghost, a clear sign that his bone-like constructions extended into his hands. The skin was… surprisingly human-like, too cool but not as icy cold as ghosts usually were.

Maddie dropped the glove with the one already on the table, turning to lay down Phantom’s hand, when she noticed its appearance.

“Jack, look.” She held up the hand, her fingers tracing the extensive scarring. Its texture differed from the rest of the skin, rough and ragged like an actual scar. It seemed to originate in the palm, branching outwards from there, all the way down his wrist and into the cuff of his jumpsuit. It glowed, faintly, brightest at the palm. “Do you think it’s the same scar as on his chest?”

“Only one way to find out, huh?” Jack twisted his head to nod at Phantom’s face. “He has some kind of bruising on his throat, somehow. Green instead of purple, but you can’t mistake that kind of splotching.”

“At least we won’t have to worry about a crushed windpipe.” She twisted his arm out of the sleeve, feeling the bones in his shoulder shift with the movement. Definitely a human-like skeleton. How odd. “There we go. Definitely one large electrical scar, with the extremes in the palm of his hand and on his chest.”

Jack shifted his hands, allowing her to push the jumpsuit down to Phantom’s hips entirely. Now, they could see the ragged edges of the injury, the way it had torn Phantom’s… skin, for lack of better word, apart.

“Whoever, or whatever, he fought must’ve been something vicious,” Jack commented. Green ectoplasm continued to bubble up around his black gloves.

“Loathe as I am to say it, it was a good thing that Phantom dealt with it.” She looked over Phantom’s other injuries, but none seemed as threatening as the one on his side. “Something like this would’ve killed a human almost instantly.”

She picked up the needle, taking it out of its packaging. Using sterile tools might not be necessary, but Phantom was already defying what they knew of ghosts. Better not risk it.

“He must’ve caught it, at least,” Jack said as she threaded the needle. “If he was in the back of our GAV, the fight must’ve ended. Not sure where the Thermos went, though.”

Maddie gestured, and Jack shifted, pinching the injury closed instead of covering it up. She stuck the needle through, swiftly, but Phantom didn’t move.

“Definitely passed out,” she commented, moving to pinch the injury closed herself. “I’ve got this, Jack. Can you go look over the rest of his injuries?”

“Well, he has those bruises on his neck.” Jack paused, placing his fingers against the bare throat. “They seem… finger-like? Like someone tried to strangle him. A ghost my size, maybe?”

She threaded the needle through Phantom’s side again. “But why try to choke him out? That’d do nothing to him, he’s a ghost!”

“Maybe they were trying to snap his neck, instead?” Jack made an uncertain noise, moving up to Phantom’s head. “If he has something like bones, they gotta serve some purpose, right? So maybe breaking his spine would’ve disabled him, like with a human?”

“But as a ghost, his most important part is the core in his chest, not the brain.” She was making steady progress on Phantom’s side. The ghost still hadn’t stirred. He’d better not destabilize, not after all the effort they put into preserving him. “Unless he needs his head for some kind of offensive power, snapping his neck wouldn’t have done them any good.”

“There might not be any logic behind it, anyway,” Jack pointed out. “We’re talking about ghosts, after all. Maybe this wasn’t an attempt at strangling at all, but just the most convenient part for the other ghost to grab.”

He paused, gently probing Phantom’s head. “He definitely has some sort of skull, too. Very human-like, barely any flesh—or ectoplasm—over it. A cut on his temple, kind of deep. Looks like it bled badly, but it’s got some sort of crust over it, now.”

“Normal ectoplasm doesn’t crust… But normal ectoplasm also doesn’t form bone-like structures.” Halfway through the slice on his sides. The ribs still glinted crystalline against a backdrop of green so dark it appeared black. “No other injuries on his head?”

“None that I can see.” Jack hesitated, then ran his fingers through Phantom’s hair. The black of his gloves contrasted starkly against the white of Phantom’s hair. “There’s some dried ectoplasm in here, but I think it all came from that cut on his temple.”

“That’s good, at least. I’m not sure how his head injuries would compare to a human’s.” A few more stitches went into Phantom’s side. “None of the cuts on his chest seemed severe when I checked them out earlier, and I don’t think he has any on his arms, either.”

Jack hummed, walking past her to the other end of the table. “I’ll check out his legs, then.”

As she continued to stitch of Phantom’s side, Jack’s humming paused. His hands wrapped around Phantom’s left leg, gently probing the limb.

“I… think he has a broken leg,” Jack said, abruptly. “It feels like the bone-like structure doesn’t line up right. It’s not that way on the other leg.”

“We might have to set it, then.” Another stitch as she thought it over. “If his flesh injuries heal, his bones probably do as well. He probably doesn’t need his legs to walk, but having the bone grow wrong might stop him from forming his spectral tail.”

She paused, her hands stilling. “How does he form a spectral tail if he has bones?”

“I…” Jack halted too. “I honestly don’t know. He doesn’t move that thing like there’s any bones in it.”

“Maybe…” She continued her work again, pulling the needle through Phantom’s false flesh. “Maybe he can form and dissolve the crystal structures by will? To form bones and then make them go away when they’re a hindrance?”

“In which case we wouldn’t need to set his leg, because he can just reform it properly,” Jack pointed out. It was quiet for a moment as he, presumably, felt out the bones. “It feels like a clean break, at least. We can try waiting it out and offer him a splint if he needs it.”

“That might work.” She finished another stitch, looking over her work. Tied off the thread. “There, this should keep him stable for now. Let’s hope he doesn’t immediately rip it or phase it out when he wakes up.”

Which was baffling her, still. Ghosts don’t pass out; they don’t black out or sleep or go unconscious in any way. Even if Phantom had bones of some sort, what benefit could passing out give him?

“I’ll get a bucket and some cloth.” Jack had wandered off already, having finished his inspection. “We better clean all that ectoplasm off of him, make sure he’s not hiding anything more severe.”

She nodded, placing the needle back in its wrapper. It would have to be thrown out and replaced later; there was no sterilizing a needle so heavily stained with ectoplasm. Speaking of which…

Maddie stripped off her gloves, dropping them on a nearby table, and wandered over to the lab’s closet. It always paid to have a few jumpsuits on hand. One of the bins contained spare gloves, and she quickly pulled a clean pair on.

“I got the stuff!” Jack announced, bustling down the stairs. He had replaced his gloves with clean ones too, at some point. Hopefully before he left the lab and smeared ectoplasm on everything.

“Let’s get him cleaned up, then.” She took one of the cloths out of the water—warm, but not too hot—and pressed it against Phantom’s chest. The ghost made a soft noise, a staticky whine, his fingers twitching.

No further movement came.

They carefully cleaned the ectoplasm off of Phantom’s body; his scars seemed to glow even brighter when they were wet. As Jack finished cleaning off Phantom’s torso, Maddie moved over to his head.

Phantom still had his eyes closed, but they were no longer clenched as tightly. Thick globs of ectoplasm trailed down the side of his face, smeared through his hair.

Gently, she pressed the cloth against his head, just underneath the injury. If it had scabbed over, she didn’t want to reopen it. Phantom moaned, his eyes moving underneath the lids.

It wasn’t a sound, not a human one, but… Maddie could’ve sworn that Phantom called her ‘Mom’.

“Those noises are strange, aren’t they, Jack?” she asked, trying to distract herself from the not-word. Ghosts didn’t do parents; the concept of a mother should be completely foreign to Phantom. “I’ve never heard him speak anything but perfect English.”

“They’re so inhuman!” he agreed, as excited as ever. “The warbling, the almost static sound of them! It must be something lower than true speech, for Phantom to fall back into it when injured.”

Jack tapped on Phantom’s chest, right in the center of the glowing scar. “It’s almost like it comes from his core, sometimes, instead of his mouth. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

“But why would ghosts have a basal language of their own?” She rubbed the ectoplasm stains off of Phantom’s cheek, the ghost’s nose twitching when she brushed too close past it. For just a brief moment, she could see green gums, sharp teeth. “They’re not sentient, not even like animals. Right? They would have no need to communicate with each other.”

“Well, if they can learn human languages, I don’t see why they couldn’t have their own.” He shrugged, coming closer to Phantom’s head as well. “They clearly have some form of intelligence, even if it’s limited. They can conceptualize and plan, after all.”

He lifted Phantom’s head, and she started cleaning the ectoplasm out of the ghost’s hair. It was odd, the texture of it just off. A little too slick, too smooth. Not heavy enough, as it seemed to stir even when neither of them touched it.

“I suppose you’re right,” she eventually said. Phantom’s head laid limply in Jack’s hand, the other braced under the ghost’s shoulders. “They must go out of their way to avoid using it around humans, then. I can’t think of a single ghost using it before, not even the animals.”

“It’s definitely weird,” Jack agreed. “And, I was thinking… It doesn’t seem the echo the same way as their voices either, does it?”

She paused, the wet cloth pressed against Phantom’s head. No. No, it certainly hadn’t. “Huh.”

“Maybe they do always speak in it,” Jack continued. “Maybe they just layer actual speech on top of it, usually. Maybe that’s what causes the echo? A voice from their core, for ghosts, and a voice from their throat?”

“I suppose it might be possible.” The clumps of green had mostly been washed out of Phantom’s hair, now, leaving just faint green stains. “I think this is as good as we’ll get it, Jack.”

He nodded, lowering Phantom’s head back onto the table. The ghost stirred again, a little, eyelids clenching and relaxing again. It sniffled, oddly enough, face contorting.

Maddie dropped the cloth back into the bucket of water. They’d definitely need to get rid of all that, too. Ugh. The disadvantages of working with ectoplasm.

Phantom warbled something again. His fingers twitched against the surface of the table.

“Look who’s waking up!” Jack grinned at her, from Phantom’s other side. “About time, Phantom!”

The ghost jerked, suddenly, like a full-body flinch. He hissed, a sound filled with static and pain.

And then he was sitting up, fingers clawing against the surface of the table.

“No you don’t!” she told him, pressing a hand against his chest. Pushed him back against the table. “You’re not tearing those stitches I just put into you.”

His eyes moved to stare at her, the green dull and glassy compared to their usual brightness. He frowned, warbling something at her.

‘why’ her mind told her it meant.

“Down, Phantom.” She pressed harder, and he collapsed back against the table. There was more tension in his body, now. In his false muscles.

Or were they false?

“We found you passed out in the GAV,” Jack explained, tone dropping into something comforting. “You looked close to destabilizing.”

Phantom’s eyes seemed to sharpen, finally, as they darted from her to Jack and back. His left hand wandered to his side.

“Don’t mess with those stitches,” she told him, sharply. He flinched, but dropped the hand. “We didn’t clean you up just so you can wreck all our hard work, you know?”

He licked his lips, tongue vivid green against his pale skin. “Why?” he croaked out, layered so thickly in static she could barely make out the word.

“Why?” she repeated, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Well, you were too interesting a subject to pass up, of course. None of the ghosts we’ve studied so far had bodies as complex as yours. What a waste it would be, to let you melt away like that!”

Phantom pressed flatter against the table. His hands wandered, like he was looking for something. “Now what?”

“Well, there’s no straps on this table, if that’s what you’re looking for,” Jack said, looking down at Phantom. The ghost stilled immediately. Huh. Odd. Why would he know to look for those? “For now, you appear weakened enough that there’s no risk of your escape, but you’re awake enough to answer some questions. Mads?”

“Sounds like a good start,” she agreed. This was probably the most pliable they would get Phantom. “Let’s start easy, shall we? Your leg is broken. Lower left. Do you want a splint for that?”

“I…” Phantom blinked, apparently caught off-guard by her question. “Um. I think I’ll be okay.”

She nodded, watching him carefully. His eyes seemed to brighten, slowly, becoming greener and greener by the second. Even his complexion seemed to gain some color back.

“Did you catch the ghost who roughed you up so badly?” Jack asked, crouching a little so he didn’t tower over Phantom as badly. “Wouldn’t want them to try the same on any humans, after all.”

“No, he’s… He’s not a concern anymore.” Phantom tried to push himself up again, but paused when she glared at him. “He’s… He only has it out for me. Doesn’t really care about the humans.”

Well, that was good, at least. “Is there any risk of him breaking in to chase you?”

“No, I took care of it.” Phantom shook his head, slowly, wobbling a little. “He needs his suit to be a real threat, and I destroyed that.”

A ghost wearing a suit? Something mechanical, then. Maybe like that annoying electric one, which controlled technology, but he didn’t seem all that interested in Phantom.

Must be an unknown ghost. That was… worrisome. The possibility that there was such a dangerous ghost out there that they knew nothing about, running loose in Amity Park.

Phantom seemed uncomfortable, pinned down flat against the table. She supposed that she and Jack were kind of looming over him.

“You can sit up, if you want, but be careful.” She tried to ease her posture, to soften her glare. Phantom was just a ghost, yes, but he was voluntarily giving them information. No point in shutting him down so soon.

The ghost nodded, sliding his hands underneath himself. Slowly, he pushed himself up. Cautiously. His face strained as he did so, briefly, hand sliding closer to the stitches in his side.

Curious. A pain reaction. Could be faked, of course, but it seemed… it seemed genuine. The barely-there hiss of static through his clenched teeth, layered over an almost physical sense of pain.

Maybe that was Phantom’s big trick all along. The ability to make others feel emotions. To somehow convey emotions and feelings that he, himself, did not feel.

“Do you want painkillers for that?” Jack asked, also watching the ghost grimace, hands hovering over the stitches. “Or, uh… Some ghost equivalent?”

Phantom’s eyes slid back to Jack, then Maddie, and back to Jack. “I… If you’ve got some. I need more than a human, though.”

“You want some water to help that go down?” Jack grabbed the first aid kit, digging through its contents for the painkillers. “Or food?”

“Um. Water would be nice. Food…” The oddly mundane sound of a growling stomach. Phantom flushed bright green. “I’d like food, yeah. Um. Thanks.”

Jack handed her the painkillers, already turning towards the stairs. “I’ll be right back with a glass and something to eat. Maddie, you figure out how much to give him.”

She turned the bottle in her hand, searching for the instructions. How did Phantom compare to a human? Was his metabolizing faster? Stronger? Did his ectoplasm somehow form organs, as well as bones? Some sort of non-crystallized solid?

“Um. I probably know how much I’ll need if you tell me what kind that is,” Phantom said, interrupting her train of thought. Her eyes snapped from the bottle to him. His shoulders were drawn up, tense.

“What?” she asked, still working through the sentence. “Oh, it’s… paracetamol. We don’t usually need painkillers for this sort of stuff.”

He nodded understandingly, and Maddie wondered how much of it he really did understand. His structure was definitely more complicated than that of most ghosts. He had bones, musculature, apparently even organs. Was it really that far-fetched to think that he might have something like nerves, too? That he might feel pain, or at least understand it?

“The teen portion, but up it by half, then.” He opened his hand, and only then seemed to realize that he wasn’t wearing his gloves, because he froze up. Stared down at his bare, heavily scarred hand. “Wh— Why am I not wearing my jumpsuit anymore?”

“We had to take it off to check your injuries.” She uncapped the bottle of painkillers, keeping Phantom in her peripherals. “And you seemed to have a structure underneath the jumpsuit, unlike most ghosts. We didn’t want to risk damage by sewing the two together.”

Phantom hummed at that. “I… thanks. I don’t think that that’d be good, yeah.”

“Well, it would be a shame to let you destabilize just like that, wouldn’t it?” She shook out a few pills into his hand. This was just… a study. An ordinary ghost wouldn’t have any desire for painkillers, and it definitely wouldn’t be able to process them. But would Phantom be any different?

“Yeah…” He made a face, hand curling closed around the painkillers like she might take them away again. “Well, thanks anyway, I suppose.”

Jack’s thudding footsteps sounded, and he appeared down the stairs. In one hand, he held a glass of water. In the other, a plate with a few sandwiches. “Sorry, we didn’t have anything quicker.”

He walked up closer, handing the glass to Phantom first. The ghost took it in his empty hand, fingers carefully wrapping around it, slick with condensation.

“Thanks.” The ghost raised the hand with pills to his mouth first, dropping them all in before chasing them with a big gulp of water. He made a face, following it with several smaller sips of water. “Eugh. That stuff never tastes good, does it?”

“It’s not supposed to taste good,” she pointed out, quirking an eyebrow. “You realize that, right?”

“Of course I do, I’m not an idiot.” He leaned backwards slightly, emptying the rest of the glass in one go. “Doesn’t mean I gotta like it.”

He handed the glass back to Jack, exchanging it for one of the sandwiches. Didn’t even try to grab the whole plate.

“Are you sure you don’t want more?” Jack asked, gesturing the plate at Phantom. “Those are some serious injuries to heal from.”

“Yeah, I guess, but…” Phantom shrugged, taking another bite of the sandwich before continuing. “It’s getting late. Wouldn’t want to ruin my appetite.”

Maddie could feel her eyebrow raising. “Dinner plans, Phantom?”

“I… uh.” His shoulders came up, suddenly, as he seemed to remember where he was. “Kinda, yeah…”

He took another bite of the sandwich, dropping his eyes down to his loosely folded legs.

Phantom looked like a scolded kid. It was the only thing she could think off. The way he curled up on himself, the tension in his shoulders. It just reminded her so, so much of Danny, whenever she scolded him.

Her heart stuttered in her chest, and she cursed herself. She couldn’t feel sorry for him. He was just a ghost! He was— he was doing it on purpose, to make her feel bad! To make them let him go!

The ghost continued eating in complete silence. His hair hung down over his face, barely moving anymore. The lines of his shoulders taught.

“Look, Phantom…” She paused, looking over at Jack. He shrugged back, looking equally unsure of himself. “We’re ghost hunters. We can’t just… let a ghost go.”

“Especially not one as fascinating as I am?” he sneered back, bitterly. He looked up, suddenly, venomous green meeting her eyes. “That’s all I am in the end, huh? No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I let myself get hurt just so no one else has to! In the end I’m just some ghost, to cut up and experiment on!”

She flinched back, involuntarily. The glow around his body, barely visible before, had flared out with his temper.

“It’s not like that,” Jack tried, feebly.

“No?” Phantom hissed back, the warble of static layered heavily over his voice once more. “Then what is this, huh?”

“We’re helping you.” She straightened her back, her fists balling automatically. “We’ve stitched you up, given you painkillers, fed you.”

“Because you didn’t want to lose me,” he countered. His lips curled, showing her once more those green gums and vicious teeth. Fangs. He’d had fangs all along, and she had never noticed until he bared them at her. “Because I was such a precious study object! And the painkillers, the food—”

He flung out an arm. “I bet that all that was just a test, to see if I was faking any of it! Could I really process food? Do painkillers really work on me? Wow!”

“Would you have preferred it if we hadn’t done any of that?” she snapped back. “That we’d left you smearing ectoplasm all over the place until you destabilized?”

“Doing the right thing for the wrong reason doesn’t make it good!” His glow flickered wildly, coalescing and twirling like flames. His eyes burned bright like a jack-’o-lantern’s. “Just because you helped me doesn’t make you the better person!”

“You are the one who broke into our vehicle.” She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. Getting into a shouting match would accomplish nothing. “You passed out in the back of the Ghost Assault Vehicle.”

That seemed to take all the wind out of his sails. Phantom spluttered, but his glow dimmed significantly already. “I— That’s not what we were talking about!”

“You practically served yourself up to us,” she continued, her voice flat. “What else did you expect, a heavily injured ghost unconscious in the vehicle of ghost hunters?”

His shoulders came up again, Phantom halfway through curling up in a ball. He muttered venomously, some ghost-speak noise again.

And, again, Maddie somehow understood exactly what he said.

‘parents,’ he had hissed, from the very center of his being. An almost sardonic tone to it, somehow.

“Look, Phantom,” Jack said, picking up Maddie’s slack. “We’re ghost hunters. Supposedly, so are you. We found a potentially dangerous ghost in our vehicle without our knowledge, and we made the decision to patch you up. Regardless of the reasoning behind it, what else would you have wanted us to do? What would you have done, in this situation?”

“I…” Phantom sighed, blowing the hair out of his face. “I would’ve patched them up, too. But I definitely wouldn’t have told them that I saved them just because they were so fascinating, because I wanted nothing more than to experiment on them.”

“Would you have rather had us lie to you?” Jack asked, bluntly. “Would you rather have had us tell you that we patched you up out of the goodness of our hearts?”

“I… no.” Phantom shook his head, wrapped his arms around his bare chest. The picture of uncertainty. “No, because I know you would’ve been lying. You’ve been hunting ghosts for research for ages. Me, especially. There’s no way you would’ve patched me up out of kindness.”

“So then what do you want from us?” Maddie asked, shoving her thoughts to the back of her mind for now. “You didn’t want us to let you dissipate in our van. You didn’t want us to lie about why we helped you, but you don’t want us to tell you truth about that, either. What option does that leave?”

Phantom gritted his teeth, his glow suddenly brightening and immediately dimming again. “I don’t know! I just— Can’t you just be nice! Couldn’t you just fix me up out of the goodness of your hearts and mean it?!”

His fingers clawed in his hair as he curled even further into a ball, only the broken leg staying in its place. His shoulders were taught with tension, shaking lightly.

It sounded like… like he was sniffling.

Crying?

She grimaced, turning to look at Jack. He, too, seemed completely thrown off by the display.

It was just…

It was so genuine.

The shaking of the shoulders, the soft sounds of muffled crying, the barely visible glint of tears, the hitch in his breath, the soft keening of his core.

The hitch of his breath?

Hesitantly, Jack reached out. Placed one of his hands on Phantom’s shoulders—so big it almost covered the entire area. “Shh, kiddo.”

Phantom shook harder, but didn’t try to throw off Jack’s hand. The hitching of his breath was clearly audible now.

And Maddie…

Maddie didn’t know what to do. She knew how to comfort kids, and her heart clenched, demanded she help this teen, too. This kid that reminded her so much of her Danny.

But she didn’t know what to do. Phantom was supposed to be just another ghost. An ectoplasmic abomination that had lied and faked its way into everyone’s hearts.

Not this.

Not a teen, warbling “mom” at a stranger who cleaned his wounds. Not a teen who had hidden in their car when he’d gotten too injured to get away, searching for something that reminded him of his parents. For someone who’d keep him safe like his parents would’ve, should’ve.

“Oh, Phantom,” she said, threading her fingers through his hair. It was soft, still wet where she’d cleaned it. Still stained faintly green from his own ectoplasm. “Oh, honey… Why have you hidden this for so long? You are so… so human.”

He keened again, shaking harder under their hands. And in the sound, she heard ‘love acceptance warmth caring’ and ‘not me not mine not for ghosts’.

And for once, Maddie Fenton ignored her curiosity to focus on the crying ghost in their lab.

“Shh,” she told him, soothingly combing her fingers through his messy hair. “It’ll be alright, Phantom. We… It was our mistake. We were wrong.”

“We were so wrong,” Jack chimed in, rubbing circles on Phantom’s back. “We… You’re just a kid. How long have you been dead, kiddo? How old are you really?”

Phantom sniffled, and, voice warbling with emotion, said, “Two years. I— Sixteen.”

“Oh, sweetie.” He was so human, so young. He could’ve been her own son. “We’ve been so wrong. We never should’ve shot at you, never should’ve threatened you.”

“We let our assumptions lead us,” Jack agreed, quiet. Soft. “Phantom, we’re so sorry. Hey, shh. It’ll be alright.”

The ghost, so human and yet not, shook his head. Only slightly, just enough that Maddie’s hand didn’t dislodge.

“We’ll make it alright,” Maddie promised him, instead. Fierce, sharp. Determined. “Let us make it up, Phantom. Let us pay for our mistakes.”

“Don’t wanna,” he mumbled back, so quiet she could barely hear him. “Lemme leave.”

“Of course you can,” Jack assured him, still rubbing circles on Phantom’s back. “We won’t stop you, kiddo. We just want you to be safe.”

Phantom sniffled again. Slowly turned his head, until a single vivid green eye looked up at Maddie.

It was ringed with red, green-tinted tears still tracking down over his cheek.

“Do you?” he asked. He sounded… shattered. The echo of ghost-speak behind his voice wavered like glass in a storm.

“You’re just some kid in way over your head.” Maddie let her hand drop from his head, instead trying to convey her genuineness through her gaze. “You’re… barely a teenager. No one can—no one should—blame you for any of the damages you’ve caused, trying to help.”

“You’ve tried so hard, despite your death,” Jack chimed in, his hand stilling too. “You’ve died, and you’re still so good.”

“You’re so good, Phantom. I wish you were one of ours.” Maddie reached forward, slowly, wiping the tears off of his cheek. “If you ever need us, for anything, please don’t hesitate to come by.”

“I—” Phantom’s voice crackled, and he sniffled again. Wiped his own hand past the other eye. “I don’t— I can’t—”

“Please just promise us that.” Jack let his hand slip off of Phantom’s back, placing it on the edge of the table instead. He, too, stared pleadingly at Phantom. “We won’t force you to do anything, kiddo, we’re just asking. Let us help.”

Maddie slid the stained gloves over towards Phantom. “Phantom, we obviously remind you of your parents.”

The ghost hunched up again, slightly. Green spread over his cheeks like a blush. She pushed on. “You called me Mom when I cleaned off your wounds. You hid in the GAV because you felt safe in it, because it reminded you of your parents. They’re obviously not here, because you’ve died or because they’ve died or because of some combination of those, but you’re still allowed to want that comfort. And we are willing to give you that. It’s the least we can do, to repay what we’ve done to you, what we’ve threatened you with.”

“I—” His breath hitched again. “I don’t… I’ll keep it in mind.”

Well, she supposed they could hardly push for more. She didn’t think she’d be so open to accepting help from them either, if she’d been in Phantom’s place.

“Please do,” she told him instead. Patted him on the right knee. “Whatever it is, whatever you’re struggling with. You’re always welcome at our place. Okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered back. He wiped over his face again. “I gotta… I gotta get going.”

“Dinner plans, right?” She stepped backwards to give him some space. “You’d better eat well, young man.”

Phantom grunted, a noise vaguely underlined with acceptance. He stuck his arms through his sleeves, carefully pulling the jumpsuit back up over his upper body.

“And be careful with your injuries.” Jack handed Phantom the gloves, having apparently scooped them off of the table at some point. “Those stitches in your side will need some time to heal before you take them out, and your broken leg… Well, you’d know better than us how it heals, but still.”

“I know how to take care of myself,” Phantom grumbled back, pulling on his gloves. He grimaced at the left one, more green than white with his spilled ectoplasm. It had dried, crackling uncomfortably as he moved his fingers. “Despite the evidence of the contrary.”

He pushed himself off of the table, suddenly. Maddie jerked forward automatically, but Phantom hovered above the ground, his leg held limply.

The ghost raised further up, until he floated at their eye level. “I… Thanks. For helping me. And… the apologies, I guess.”

“It was the least we could do,” she assured him, crossing her arms loosely. “Please, Phantom, come to us if you need anything.”

“I’ll… keep it in mind.” He shimmered, turning transparent. Then, suddenly, he dove upwards, and then he was gone.

“Well…” Jack cleared his throat. “That… That happened.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, looking at the empty table. It’s surface was stained green with Phantom’s ectoplasm, a small puddle left where he’d bled the worst. “God, Jack. What have we done?”

“Something we’ve learned from. Something we won’t ever do again.” He looked up, meeting her eyes. “That’s all we can do, Mads. Make amends to the best of our abilities.”

She nodded, slowly. “We’d better get working on cleaning the lab. We’ll need to go through all our research on ghosts, strip it down to the base observations. Start over from scratch.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed a thumb over the edge of the stain on the table, absentmindedly. “But first, we should focus on our own kids, I think.”

Maddie paused. Turned to look at the clock. “Oh lord, you’re right. I’d better get started on dinner.”

“I’ll start on cleaning the lab.” Jack nodded at the stairs. “You go take care of the wonderful kids we already have, instead of worrying about Phantom.”

“Thanks, honey.” She pressed a kiss against his cheek, before turning to rush up the stairs.

He was right. They already had two wonderful kids. Worrying about Phantom would do them no good, not unless the ghost would accept their help.

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Maddie stared in the startled blue eyes of her son, the lingering sounds of the conversation she’d just cut short between him and his sister.

“Oh, kids, I’m so sorry. I’ll get started on dinner right away.”

“Something distracting in the lab?” Jazz asked, getting out of her chair. “Can I help?”

“If you could help me peel these potatoes, that’d be wonderful…” She passed a pan and a knife to Jazz. “And, yes, I suppose you could say as much.”

Danny laughed. She turned to look at him, at his cautious grin. “Must be something big.”

“Yeah,” she answered, watching him angle his head slightly. Letting his black hair slide down his face, parting just right for her to see a flash of dark red against pale skin. A scab on his temple, right where… right where Phantom had had a scab, too.

But… surely that couldn’t be?

No, it was just her mind playing things off.

Right?

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 20 #phic phight 2020 #dp fanfic #phanfic #phanfiction #dp fanfiction #maddie fenton #danny fenton #jack fenton #dark writes #me at the start of the month: my goal is to hit 30k :) #me now: *will probably hit 60k at least* #AAAAAAA

[ghostsray]

kin assigned fenton

(’nother @phicphight entry for @darks-ink‘s prompt: "Fenton/Phantom AU where during the Portal accident, a ghost bonds to Danny Fenton's body, bringing him back to life but maintaining their own ghostly memories and none of Danny's. Meanwhile, Danny himself died and became a ghost, keeping his own human memories.")

(words: 8645) (AO3)

(part 2)

The first thing Phantom noticed when he woke up was that he felt heavy.

Gravity did not exist in the ghost zone. He never felt heavy unless he was being pinned by another ghost. As such, he was filled with fear, and his eys flew open.

He immediately regretted this action, because the harsh light that met his eyes made him wince and close them again. How could his eyes hurt? Ghosts shouldn't even be able to feel pain unless it was dull, but just looking at something bright made his head ache.

Now that he noticed it, he felt much more than just a headache. There was the cold floor underneath his arms, and when he tried to stir, a sharp ache flared throughout his whole body.

What, sincerely, the fuck was happening?

There was ringing in his ears, but that faded over time. When the ringing was no longer there, he was able to make out voices. They seemed to repeat the same name over and over: "Danny!"

"Who's Danny?" he managed to say. Ancients, even his tongue felt heavy.

The voices suddenly fell silent. "Um," said one of them, "you are."

Phantom hesitantly opened his eyes again, slowly this time. He found two people standing over him, but something about them looked odd. Their skins weren't like any shade of blue, green, or gray he had seen on other ghosts, and they lacked any sort of glow emanating from their bodies...

Phantom's eyes widened, and he blurted out, "Humans!"

The concern on both humans' faces immediately deepened. "...Yeah?" the darker one, which wore glasses and a ridiculous red hat, said. "Should we not be?"

The paler one, which looked like a girl with black hair and even blacker eyeliner, leaned over Phantom with knitted brows. She held up a hand with four fingers raised and asked, "Danny, how many fingers am I holding up?"

Phantom wanted to scramble away from these strangers, but his body was too tired and--ugh--heavy for him to move, so he frowned at the human girl and said, "Four. But why do you keep calling me Danny?"

The two humans exchanged a glance, then the girl asked, "Do you remember anything about yourself?"

"Yeah," Phantom said, a little (okay, a lot) confused. "My name's Phantom."

Another exchanged glance, and the human boy said, "No, it's not."

Phantom eyed the two of them in turn and said, "How do you know? I've never even met you before."

The girl grabbed his shoulder, which made him wince because he was still in a lot of pain (which shouldn't be possible, but he was). She stated sternly, "Yes, you have. We're your friends--I'm Sam, he's Tucker, remember? And you're Danny."

Despite his pain, Phantom managed to push her away and sit up against the awful pull of gravity. "No, I'm not! I--" He froze, because just then a strand of black hair fell over his eye. His hair wasn't black. If that wasn't enough to confuse him, he then noticed his own hands, which in fact were not his own. He was dressed in a white jumpsuit, except it looked like it had been blown apart--tears and holes riddled it, and through these, the skin underneath was visible. Pink skin, just like the paler human's. Phantom brought the hand up to his face. Hundreds of tiny grooves were etched into it.

Again, what the fuck? This was not a ghost hand. It didn't even have any claws! Realization dawned on him. He wasn't in a ghost body...he was in a human's.

"Uh, Danny?" the boy--Tucker--asked.

Danny. That must be the name of the human he was inside. Phantom didn't even remember overshadowing this guy, but that must be what was happening, right? He focused on leaving Danny's body so the human can talk to his friends and get them to leave him alone. Except, well, no matter how hard he tried...

"I'm stuck," he said.

"Stuck?" Sam repeated.

Phantom was really filled with fear now. This--yuck--human organ in his borrowed chest began to beat harder the more anxious he got, which wasn't helping. "I'm stuck inside this body! Why can't I leave?"

He glared at the two humans before him, who looked dumbfounded. "...Um," Tucker finally said, "are you saying...you're a ghost?"

"Yes, I'm a ghost!" Phantom snapped. Ouch, his head hurt. Phantom tried to push Danny's stupid body to its feet, which was enormously hard with this stupid gravity, but he managed to succeed. "I'm not Danny, whoever he is. I need to get out!"

"Er, Da--Phantom," Sam said. "How do we know you're really a ghost and not just, uh..."

"Off your bonkers?" Tucker completed.

Phantom raised an eyebrow. "Why? What's so hard to believe about your friend getting possessed?"

"Nothing much," Tucker answered, "except that ghosts don't exist."

Of fucking course he would say that. Why would humans ever believe in ghosts? The two species interact so rarely that Phantom himself would not have believed in humans if several ghosts didn't previously exist as them in life. Phantom opened his mouth, trying to find a valid argument, but he came up empty. Not that it mattered anyway, because the blood rushing from the chest organ was growing too heavy for his thought organ to handle, and he felt Danny's knees buckle and send him falling to the floor again while his vision filled with black.

He woke up. Again.

This time, the surface underneath him wasn't so cold. In fact, it was warm and soft. Likewise, the torn up hazmat suit he was wearing before was now replaced by soft cotton clothes.

Phantom hurriedly brought a hand to his face and was immediately disappointed. He was still in Danny's body. How? Why? Why was he stuck?

"Danny, you're awake!" a voice next to him said, making him jolt in surprise. He expected to see the same girl as before, but when he turned his head (Correction: Danny's head) to the side, he saw a different human. She had ginger hair and teal eyes.

"I'm not Danny," he told her.

The girl frowned. "Sam and Tucker told me about this. They say you think you are...a ghost?"

"I don't think I'm a ghost, I am a ghost," Phantom retorted.

"Really?" the girl replied skeptically. "Can you prove that?"

That should have been easy. Ghosts still kept a few of their powers even while they were possessing someone--at least, that's what he heard from the few ghosts who did interact with humans and managed to overshadow one. He focused on Danny's hand, willing it to turn invisible.

It did not turn invisible.

He frowned and tried to phase it through the soft surface he was lying on. The hand only pressed against it, but it did not phase through.

Invisibility and intangibility were a ghost's two simplest powers, so why was he unable to use them?

"You're not a ghost," the girl said when she sensed his failure. "You're Danny Fenton, a human."

"I'm pretty sure I just told you that I'm not."

The girl's gaze was intense as she continued, "You just went through a traumatizing experience. It would be normal for your brain to make up memories to..."

"Woah, woah, woah," Phantom said before she could finish. He rolled his borrowed eyes and grumbled, "Awesome. You're a psychologist."

"I'm your sister, Jazz," she stated simply. "And...are you saying you know what a psychologist is?"

"Of course I do! Do you think all ghosts are eighteenth century peasants or something? Psychologists can die, too, you know."

Jazz was undaunted by his comment. "As I was saying, though..."

"I'm not crazy--I mean, Danny isn't crazy," Phantom cut her off. "Like I told you, I'm a ghost."

All of a sudden, the door slammed open, causing Phantom to jump in his bed. A very large human man dressed in a vivid orange jumpsuit walked in, followed by a shorter human woman in a matching teal suit.

"He confesses! So he's guilty," the man said.

Jazz groaned. "Dad--"

"Your father is right, dear," the woman in teal said. "You said Danny might be having a psychological crisis, so we let you talk to him, but it's clear now that the ghost inside him is saying the truth."

"Yes, thank you!" Phantom said, spreading his arms out gladly. "Finally, someone who believes me!"

The woman gave him a smile. "We believe you, dear. And we'll get you out of my son."

"Really?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh, yes," she said, and then whatever happiness Phantom felt immediately plummeted as she pulled out a very large weapon and aimed it at him. "And the only way to do that is by exterminating you."

Phantom's eyes widened, and he chuckled nervously. "Um, sike?"

The gun powered up, and Phantom yelped and shut his eyes as a blast came out at him.

Silence fell over the room.

Phantom opened one eye, then the other. The weapon's nuzzle was smoking slightly, so it must have fired already, but he wasn't harmed. He scanned the room to see any sign of where the shot might have landed, and he found a scorch mark--right behind where he should have been hit.

"Huh," the large man said. "I guess Jazzy-pants was right."

Phantom snapped his attention to him. "What?"

"The weapon didn't affect you," the woman holding the gun said. "It only affects ghosts, which means you're a hundred percent human."

"Wait, hold up," Phantom said, growing a little nervous and extremely confused. "How do you even know it works against ghosts? Did you meet any?"

The woman sighed, like this was a topic she had to explain many times over. "I assure you, it works. We don't need any practical testing to know that the theory is correct."

"But it's not," he argued, then gestured down to himself. "It didn't shoot me."

"Trust me, I know what I'm talking about," the woman said. "You're human."

Phantom paled. "But..."

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder and saw Jazz looking at him pityingly. "It's okay, Danny. I know you're confused."

"I'm not Danny!" he shouted. He couldn't be. There was no way his memories could be fake. The Ghost Zone, the lairs he visited, Frostbite, Dora, Sidney, all those ghosts he befriended...he was certain those couldn't be fake. Right?

But the humans seemed sure about their conclusion. The woman put her weapon away, got close to Phantom, and actually kissed his forehead. "I'm sure youre tired, Danny. Why don't you go back to sleep?"

Phantom wanted to argue that he wasn't tired, that he was the opposite of tired, but unfortunately, she was right. After she lowered him back into the bed with an immensely strong grip, he felt his (Danny's?) eyelids grow heavy. Well, heavier than usual.

The other people in the room, Danny's family, filed out as Phantom reluctantly fell asleep.

He saw himself back in the Ghost Zone, where he should be. He was flying around lazily, doing loop de loops in the air and poking the clouds of swirling ectoplasm that littered the Zone. He was bored. The Ghost Zone was a neat place, but he felt hed done all the exploring he could, and he wished something new would happen.

Luckily or unluckily, something did. Not very far, a spark of light appeared. Phantom raised his eyebrows curiously and approached it, but it disappeared. Weird. He floated to the spot where it had been.

Big mistake. The spark reappeared, except it was less of a spark and more of an explosion this time. Electricity burst through Phantom's form and fried him from the inside out. He screamed. His surroundings melted into nothing, and at some point, he thought he heard his scream mix with someone else's. His molecules were split apart, and he felt his consciousness go somewhere else, some body that was not his own.

And then he felt heavy.

Phantom gasped and jolted awake. He blinked several times, his brain filled with confusion. He wasn't in the Ghost Zone. He was still trapped in the human realm, so what was up with that vision?

Oh, he thought, remembering what Nocturne had told him about visions that humans saw in their sleep. That was a dream.

From what hed heard about dreams, they rarely ever made sense. This one did, though. He was certain that was a memory of what brought him here.

A lot of good remembering did him, though.

Phantom looked over the room he was in, which he didn't get a chance to do previously. It was too dark to see clearly, which was frustrating, because darkness had never impeded his vision when he was a ghost. Although, the soft light coming through the window was enough to let him make out a few things in the room, like the various models of what he recognized had been described to him as spaceships, and posters of what he heard were called stars.

There was also a mirror in the room. Phantom rose from the bed, and he noticed that the pain had blessedly subsided, although he still felt heavy. Stupid gravity. He managed to stand on his own after a few minutes of nearly falling off balance, then shuffled his way to the mirror.

Shit, he thought, because even though he knew he was in someone else's body, he never had a chance to actually see it before now. The boy he was inside had black hair and blue eyes, which he remembered were the same colors as that large man in orange had. This body was smaller, though, more similar in structure to the woman. That damned black hair kept falling in front of his eyes. He looked around as young as those two humans who first greeted him, which was also around the age Phantom (as a ghost) usually appeared, although he never kept count of how many years exactly that was. Not like keeping count of years was easy inside a dimension where there was no sun.

While Phantom was busy despairing over the frail body he was trapped inside, an object in the room fell with a sudden crash. Phantom jumped a foot in the air. For Pariah's sake, why was he so jumpy in this body?

He turned around and jumped yet again as he noticed the green glow that had fallen all over the room. A few objects started floating on their own, including the bedside clock that was knocked onto the floor before.

If Phantom were a regular human, he probably would have shitted himself. But Phantom was not. Instead, his face split into a relieved smile, and he opened up his arms and exclaimed, "Thank Clockwork! A ghost! You have to help me."

The floating objects paused, as if they were put off by Phantom's weirdly positive outburst. Then they fell back to their original places, and the glow gathered into a certain spot in the room until they formed a person.

Phantom frowned and tilted his borrowed head. The ghost that appeared before him looked familiar. Just as he was wondering why, he realized: it was the same image he had just seen in the mirror, only with inverted colors, so that he had white hair instead of black, grayish-blue skin instead of pink, and ectoplasmic green eyes instead of blue.

"You're Danny," Phantom said. Then he slapped a fist on an open palm and said, "Ohhhh, so that's why I couldn't return control to you! You're dead."

The ghost, who was indeed dead Danny Fenton, stiffened and yelled, "I'm not dead!"

"You're a ghost," Phantom said, gesturing to Danny's floating, glowing form. "I'm pretty sure that means you're dead."

Danny pursed his lips. Then he grabbed Phantom by the collar and repeated, "I'm not dead, because my living body is right here, and I would kindly like you to give it back."

Phantom chuckled and slowly raised a finger. "Um, about that..."

Danny's glare was intense. Phantom didn't think he could be a very strong ghost, considering how recent his death was, but he didn't have any powers to protect himself anymore, so he shrunk warily under his eyes.

"What about that? Give me back my body."

"Yeah, um, I'm kind of, stuck?" Phantom informed him.

"Stuck?" He shook his head rapidly and said, "Quit joking around! Let me get back in my body, or I'll get my parents to beat your ghostly ass."

Phantom paused, because he heard Danny's voice falter at the end. The hands grapping him were shaking. He realized Danny must be afraid.

"It's okay," he spoke soothingly, trying to pat his shoulder reassuringly. "You just died, I'm sure that's--"

"I'm not dead!" Danny screamed and threw him to the ground. Ow, ow ow, stupid human body that feels pain.

Phantom tried to get up and reason with him again, but then the door opened. Danny's mom was there, holding the gun from before.

Danny turned around, and he widened his eyes and smiled. "Mom--"

But the woman didn't hear him. She crossed the room in a few bounds and formed a barrier with her body between Phantom and Danny, except, well...she was protecting the wrong one.

"Leave my son alone, you ghost," she spat at Danny, aiming her weapon at him while Phantom lay behind her back.

"What?" Danny's smile fell, and he stared at her and said, "But that's not--"

He didn't have a chance to complete his sentence before she shot him. A ray hit him right in the chest, pushing him back and slamming him against the wall. When he looked up again, her stern expression didn't change, and her weapon did not lower.

Fuck, thought Phantom, and he pulled himself up behind her. "Miss, um, Mom--"

"Don't worry, Danny," she said over her shoulder. "Mommy's gonna take care of this nasty specter."

She powered up the gun again, causing Danny (the real one) to flinch. "Please, listen to me..."

She did not. When she pulled the trigger once more, Phantom saw one last heartbroken look in the ghost's eyes before he phased through the wall and fled from his mother.

Danny's mom blew on the gun and flipped her hair. "See? That ghost was no problem."

Phantom picked his jaw up and looked at her. "Why did you shoot at him?"

She frowned. "Because he was a ghost, of course. You can never trust a ghost."

"Why not?"

She looked like he had just asked her the dumbest question on the planet. "Because they're evil. Malicious. Violent."

"That's not true," Phantom said, truthfully feeling a little offended.

Danny's mom only laughed and patted his head. "I'm sorry, who is the ghost expert here? Me or you?" She smiled at him and said, "Don't worry, I'll protect you from any ghost that tries to harm you."

Phantom would have argued further, but the resolution in her voice scared him a little. For the first time, he found himself grateful for being in Danny's body, because he wasn't sure what she would have done to him if she saw him as a ghost.

"Come on, go back to bed. There's still a couple of hours left before morning," she told him, guiding him back to Danny's bed. After he was settled in, she started to leave the room, but he stopped her by asking, "Wait...did you add anything to your gun?"

She smiled at him and said, "Nope. I told you it works on ghosts."

"Oh," he said, feeling his stomach organ churn.

Danny's mom left, only pausing at the doorway to tell him, "Good night, sleep tight, and don't let the bad ghosts bite."

Phantom lay in bed for a long time, but he didn't sleep. He stared down at Danny's hand...at his hand.

Danny was dead, and he was fully human, which meant this body was now his.

That thought burned in his mind until the light from out the window grew brighter, and the alarm clock beeped from its fallen spot on the floor.

Jazz knocked on his door. "Oh, good, you're awake," she said. She grumbled something inaudible then told him, "Mom and Dad want you to go to school."

Phantom hesitated. "...School?"

"I know," she said with a huff. She rolled her eyes and said in a mimicking tone, "It doesn't matter if you got into an accident that almost killed you and made you lose your memory! As long as you can walk, you can walk to school." She shook her head then asked, "Are you feeling better, at least?"

"Um," Phantom said, "define 'better'."

"Whatever. I'll drive you to school." And she left.

Phantom stayed in bed for several moments while the alarm continued to beep sadly. And then...he felt his bladder act up. He knew, from talking to ghosts who were humans, what this meant.

"Fuck," he muttered. "I have to pee."

.

After wandering around the top floor of the house, he finally found what he was pretty sure was called the bathroom. Figuring out the mechanics of the toilet and the faucet were easy enough, as well as the mehcanics of the actual peeing itself. He tried not to look at Danny's private parts while he did his business...even though he wasn't sure how long he would be spending in this body.

He went downstairs, which was difficult for someone who spent most of his existence flying, but he reached the bottom safely and found Danny's family sitting around a table with some stuff on it.

As he watched, Jazz scooped up a spoonful of the stuff inside her bowl, and she stuffed it into her mouth and chewed. Oh, so it was food.

Jazz caught him staring and asked, "Well? Are you going to eat?"

"Oh," he said. That's right, didn't humans need to eat to survive? He sat at the table, across from Jazz.

Phantom looked at the bowl in front of Jazz and noticed it was filled with a white liquid with pieces of multicolored circles swimming in it. He turned his attention to the jug that held the same white liquid, the box with a cartoon toucan on it that he guessed held the small circles, and the empty bowl in front of him. Well, he could put two and two together, and in no time he poured himself a bowl of milk and cereal and brought a spoonful to his mouth.

Holy Unworld! That tasted great. I mean, food did exist in the Ghost Zone for those who missed eating, but it all had the same acidic taste of ectoplasm. This was different. It was tooth-rottingly sweet.

Jazz raised an eyebrow at his dreamy expression. "You look like you're enjoying your Froot Loops."

"Froot Loops," he repeated the name. "We didn't have this in the Ghost Zone." Or maybe they did, but it wouldn't have tasted the same.

Jazz lowered her spoon and frowned. "Ghosts. Are you still going on about that?"

Phantom stopped chewing. He cast his eyes downward and twirled the spoon in his bowl. "I'm right," he said. "You were wrong about the fake memory stuff."

"Oh really?" she said, sounding like she didn't believe him. "Why is that?"

Phantom opened his mouth to speak, but his words died when he noticed Danny's mom. She had her back on them and was washing the dishes, but he thought he saw her tilt her ear toward them. Had she been listening?

"It's fine," Jazz sighed. "We'll talk about it after school. We're going to be late."

Phantom nodded and finished his Froot Loops, happy not to talk. Not with the ghost hunter in the room.

After the breakfast was drained, Jazz made for the door. Phantom followed her, but she blocked him with a hand and raised an eyebrow at his clothes. "You're not going to school in pyjamas, are you?"

Phantom glanced down at himself and saw that he was still wearing the same soft clothes he had slept in. "Uhh..."

Jazz rolled her eyes. "Go change clothes."

"Right," Phantom said and went back to Danny's room.

Honestly, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to wear. Ghosts didn't have different clothes for different occasions (most of them spent their entire existence in the same set of clothes--either whatever they had died in, or if they were born in the Zone like Phantom was, then whatever they thought made them look scarier), and the Fentons weren't exactly a good example of what humans normally wear.

As he rummaged through Danny's stuff, he came across a photograph. It showed Danny with those two friends of his--the ones who greeted Phantom when he first woke up. The trio stood in a grassy park, smiling, their arms linked together.

Phantom was filled with guilt as he thought back to Danny's ghost, begging him for his body back. If only he knew how to do that. He set the photo aside, but at least it helped him in one thing: the three teenagers were wearing regular clothes. He managed to find some clothes that matched the ones Danny wore in the picture, and when he returned downstairs, he was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a red-and-white T-shirt.

Jazz was waiting for him. The two teens walked outside and entered her car, a small convertible. He sat in the passenger seat and copied what Jazz did to strap her seatbelt, but his mind was still thinking about that photo of Danny he found. After a moment's hesitation, he said, "I saw him."

Jazz's hand stopped in the middle of turning the key in the ignition. "Saw who?"

"Danny," he told her.

Jazz pursed her lips. She started the car and drove. "If you saw him, then where is he now?"

"Your mom shot at him."

"What?"

"He's a ghost. I don't think she recognized him, but...well, he's dead."

Phantom finally learned what the seatbelt's function was when he lurched forward as Jazz suddenly stopped the car. She gripped the wheel in tight fists and breathed through flared nostrils. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't say that," she pleaded. "It was bad enough when I thought you... I thought you might die. But you didn't. You're alive."

Phantom felt guilt gnaw at him from hearing Jazz. What could he tell her other than Actually, your brother did die, oops haha, sorry?

Jazz took in a deep breath, then she kept driving like nothing happened. Phantom stayed quiet.

Eventually, the car stopped, and Jazz unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out. Phantom looked at the building they arrived at. Numerous humans around his general age were either milling about or going inside.

School. He never went to one himself, but he heard some stories from Sidney. They weren't nice stories.

Phantom gulped and exited the car. No sooner had he done that than he noticed the two teens rushing toward him.

"Danny!" that girl from last night said. What was her name...Sam. She hesitated and asked, "Do you...remember us?"

"You mean to ask if Danny is back," Phantom told her. That gave her the answer she needed, and she deflated.

Tucker glanced between them, then hooked his arm around Phantom's shoulder and said, "Hey, if you're amnesiac, you need someone to guide you through school again, right?"

"I'm not..." He sighed. Then he eyed the building warily and asked, "Are there bullies?"

"Oh, definitely," Tucker answered, which made his stomach sink.

His time at school actually went by pretty smoothly. He had wondered if anyone would notice that he wasn't Danny, but nobody paid him much attention, not even the teachers. He managed to breeze by two subjects already--one was math, which was admittedly gibberish to him, but Tucker told him no one understood it anyway. The second one he knew better--English literature. He had visited Ghostwriter's library a bunch of times in the Zone and knew about Lord of the Flies when the teacher asked him about it.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't remember your name, but you remember reading a class assignment?"

Phantom almost screamed out "I'm not Danny" again, but he held himself back. He knew they would never believe him, not unless...

"Look, Sam, Tucker," he said nervously. He wasn't sure if they would react the same way Jazz did, but considering how close friends they were, then they probably would. The two waited for him expectantly while he tried to pick out the right words. "Danny...your friend...he's--"

"Hey, Fentina!" a sharp voice interrupted him.

"Oh bother," Sam grumbled.

Confused, Phantom turned around to the source of the voice. What greeted him was a tall and muscular blonde human in a letterman's jacket, sneering down at him. "I didn't see you at the beginning of the school day. I think we have some beating to catch up on," he taunted and slammed a fist into his palm.

"Oh," Phantom said numbly. "You're a bully."

The blonde released a laugh that sounded like a pig getting choked. "Me, a bully? More like you're a loser who deserves to get bullied."

"That...makes no sense."

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because blonde dude's face turned beet red, and he picked up Phantom by the collar and slammed him into a row of lockers. At this point, pain was becoming a constant in Phantom's new, stolen life.

"Lay off, Dash," Sam snapped at him.

"You lay off, Manson," Dash bit back. "I'm only interested in Fenturd here."

"I hear you mispronouncing Fenton a lot," Phantom said in spite of his nerves. "It's really not that hard a name to memorize."

Dash's face turned an even deeper shade of red, and he punched Phantom in the face. All Phantom could think was, Man, Danny would not be happy if he found out I broke his face. Then Dash opened a random locker and stuffed him inside.

"Have fun, FenTON," he yelled at him and slammed the locker door shut.

This was fine. Phantom could handle being trapped inside a tight space with no intangibility to bail him out. I mean, he was already trapped inside this body, wasn't he? Haha.

But after the first few minutes passed, he grew nervous. There was no way he would be left here forever, right? Oh, Ancients, he was going to die just like Sidney, alone in a school locker.

Apparently, that was not to be, because suddenly the air inside the locker grew colder. A soft green glow washed over it, and Phantom felt two cold hands grip his arms. A tingle ran across him. He recognized the sensation: intangibility. The arms pulled, and he was tugged through the locker wall and brought face to face with none other than Danny.

Phantom blinked. "You again."

Danny scowled. "You're still in my body."

"Well, yeah," Phantom said simply. "If I left, it would die."

Danny pulled him closer so he can feel his glare more intensely, probably. Phantom felt it all right, and he squinted his eyes because dear Clockwork, were ghost eyes always this bright?

"I asked you before, and I'm asking you again," Danny growled. "Give me back my body."

"And I already told you, I can't," Phantom retorted.

"Why not? It's mine!" His grip on Phantom's arms were tight now. "I can't live as a ghost!"

"I mean, technically you wouldn't really be living because--"

"I'm not dead!" Danny denied. "I can't...I can't be..."

His grip on Phantom felt weak now. His eyes were dimmer.

Phantom gulped and hesitantly patted Danny's arm in what he hoped was a reassuring way. "Hey, it's fine. Lots of ghosts I know went through a crisis when they died."

"Did they have parents who wanted to hunt them down?" Danny asked softly. Phantom paused and didn't know how to respond.

Well, they were alone, at least. The hallway was empty except for the two of them, and he had a feeling that whatever teacher he had would be wondering where Danny Fenton was. He wasn't sure if this fact was a good thing or a bad thing, because then Sam and Tucker would not see proof of their friend being dead, and he wasn't sure if that knowledge was good or bad.

"No," Danny said, snapping Phantom out of his thoughts. "No. I'm not going to stay like this while you live my life."

"But I already told you..." Phantom began, but Danny's eyes returned their brightness, and he stared directly at Phantom.

"I'm a ghost. I can possess stuff, right?"

Phantom's eyes widened, and that was all the answer Danny needed before he overshadowed him.

A minute later, the bell rung, and students filed out of classrooms. He heard footsteps approach him and turned around to see his friends.

"Thank god, you made it out!" Tucker said once he saw him. "I swear, I told Lancer that Dash stuffed you in a locker again, but he didn't believe me..." He trailed off and pointed out, "Your eyes are green."

"They are?" Danny asked. "Huh, that's weird. I'm not surprised about Mr. Lancer, though."

"Um, didn't you technically only meet him today or something?"

"Today? I wish," Danny said, rolling his green eyes. "That guy's been following our class since third grade."

Tucker gaped. "You remember?"

"Third grade? Unfortunately."

Sam was staring. She stepped forward. "Danny?" she slowly asked.

Danny grinned. "Hey, Sam."

She laughed and hugged him. "You're back! How?"

Danny shrugged. "Come on, you can't expect me to forget you forever, can you?"

Sam and Tucker smiled. Danny smiled. In the back of Danny's head, Phantom mentally frowned.

.

The day passed. Danny was back. He took his classes as always. He got bullied by Dash as always, but that didnt bother him much. Funny how small things become once you've literally died.

Not. Danny didn't die. He told himself that.

More than once, he felt a hand twitch on its own. He sent a mental frown to Phantom and told him, Why won't you leave already?

Dude, how many times do I have to explain to you that I can't?

But I'm in my own body now.

Temporarily. Overshadowing someone isn't the same as taking their body.

Danny tuned him out and continued with his day.

There was a price, however. Phantom tried to warn him, but he got ignored. As the day went by, Danny felt himself grow exhausted at an awfully quick pace.

Tucker noticed first. "Are you okay? You're breathing heavily, and it's not even P.E. yet."

"I'm fine," Danny panted, but he didn't look that way. His skin was pale and covered with sweat.

"No, you're not," Sam said with a frown. "It's the portal--you shouldn't be walking around school after a near-death accident like that."

"I'm not dead!" Danny snapped, shocking his friends with his sudden volume. He faltered. "I mean...I need to go use the bathroom."

They let him go, though their eyes followed his back as he left. He entered the nearest restroom he found and immediately splashed his face with water.

You should stop overshadowing me, Phantom suggested.

Danny scowled. He gripped the sink to steady his shaking hands. "I'm not overshadowing anyone. This is my body."

I'm not saying it's not, but right now, you're a ghost. Prolonged overshadowing isn't healthy.

Danny gritted his teeth. "So, what? I let you steal my life again?"

It's just until we can figure out how to switch us back, Phantom said, but Danny could tell when he lied.

"You don't think we can be switched back, can you?"

Phantom hesitated. Luckily for him, he didn't need to think of a reply--just then, Danny shivered, and a blue mist escaped from his mouth.

Danny frowned. "What was that?"

Oh no, Phantom thought.

Suddenly, a shrill voice cried out, "Trespasser!" Danny jumped and whipped around to face whoever spoke. He squinted his eyes and said, "Who the fuck?"

The speaker would have looked like a regular scrawny freshman, except his skin was gray and transparent, and his torso was sticking halfway through a closed bathroom stall. It was a ghost, obviously.

Truthfully, Danny was almost disappointed in how un-scary he seemed. As a child, he had nightmares about ghosts from the stories his parents told him, but the specter in front of him was far from intimidating. He looked like one of the geeks that Dash and his gang would have picked on if he were alive.

The ghost pointed a finger at Danny and repeated in his nasally voice, "Trespasser! This is my haunt."

Danny eyed the row of empty stalls and asked, "You mean the restroom?"

"Yes! I died in this place, and I chose to make it my haunt instead of going to the Ghost Zone. I don't need another ghost like you to take it from me!"

"Okay, Moaning Myrtle, calm down," Danny spoke. "Why would I even want to steal a restroom? Also, what do you mean by calling me a ghost?"

The ghost left his stall and floated over Danny with a scowl. "I'm not stupid. I can tell when a ghost is overshadowing someone. And if you would steal a body, then you would steal a haunt."

Danny bristled. "I didn't steal this body! It was mine in the first place."

"Oh, sure, and I bet you're going to say this haunt has always been yours!"

"I'm not interested in your fucking water closet!" Danny bit back. "And this body is mine! I was born in it. I lived in it. I...it can't belong to anyone else."

The ghost narrowed his eyes. Then he said, "You're a nasty ass liar, you know that?"

"I'm not lying!"

"Whatever! You're clearly overshadowing a human, and you're clearly still standing inside my haunt, so..."

Um, maybe you should leave the bathroom, Phantom suggested. But Danny stood his ground, glaring at the ghost with his fists by his side. He was tired of this--tired of his death being pointed out to him.

"What are you going to do about it, huh? Give me a swirly?" he gibed.

The ghost's expression darkened. He raised his arm, and several stalls began to rumble. Danny faltered, and his anger melted into apprehension.

Run, Phantom said. This time, Danny decided it was a good idea to listen.

He managed to make it halfway to the exit when all the stalls suddenly exploded. Jets of slightly glowing water burst forth and hit Danny in the back, pushing him the rest of the way out and also drenching him completely.

He sluggishly picked himself off the wet floor. When he glanced to his side, he saw Kwan pausing mid-step. "...I'll just use the restroom on the second floor," Kwan said, turned a 180 and left.

Danny flipped himself over and faced the ghost floating in the restroom's doorway. "I left your stupid washroom alone, so can you leave?" he barked.

"But how do I know you won't come back?" the ghost challenged. "And you're still overshadowing the poor human."

Danny laughed mirthlessly. "Poor human?"

The ghost didn't seem to understand the irony in that. He tackled Danny, phasing the both of them through the wall and into the adjacent hallway.

A few stragglers were still idling in the hallway when they burst in. At the sudden sight of the ghost, most of them screamed and scrambled away. Only a few stayed behind: some redheaded human in a basketball shirt, and Danny's friends, Sam and Tucker.

"Danny!" Sam called out and ran to his side. Tucker froze in place. He lifted a shaky finger at the toilet ghost and stammered, "That's a g-ghost."

The toilet ghost floated away from Danny and crossed his arms. "Yeah, duh," he replied. "I'm not the only one, though."

Tucker was about to ask him what he meant by that, but then Danny began to heave. Sam hovered over him worriedly, but even she had to step away when his coughing became intense. He lurched over--then coughed himself out of his body.

Ghost Danny popped out and landed on the floor. Behind him, Phantom sighed and fell onto his side.

Sam gaped and stared between them, her mouth forming wordless questions, before she gulped and said to Danny, "Phantom?"

Danny frowned and said, "No, I'm Danny! He's Phantom." He pointed at the person inside his human body.

Sam chuckled weakly. "I think you must be confused. He's Danny, because he's a human. And you're Phantom, because youre a g..."

"He's right," Phantom interrupted from his spot on the floor. He pushed himself up, still panting heavily, and said, "That's what I've been trying to tell you. I'm not Danny. He is."

Sam stared at him, then back at Danny. "But...but that would mean--" She trailed off, and her face turned pale.

Whatever heartfelt conversation might have followed was cut off by another splash of water aimed at Danny. He growled and turned on the toilet ghost. "Will you go already?"

The ghost's fists were surrounded by swirling water (which Danny really hoped was clean). He shook his head and barked at him, "Not until you leave this school."

"The school? I thought your haunt was only the restroom."

"It was! But then you made fun of it, so I've decided to make this entire building my territory!"

He shot another beam of water at Danny. Danny grinded his teeth and wished the water would stop in mid-air...and to his surprise, it did. A transparent green shield suddenly appeared in front of him, blocking the water and keeping him dry. Danny blinked and floated back in surprise, and the shield dissapeared.

Phantom was watching him with interest. When the shield disappeared, he called out to Danny and told him, "Use your ghost rays!"

"My what?" was Danny's response right before another jet of water came at him. This time, he didn't summon an ecto-shield in time, and he got slammed back against a row of lockers. As he picked himself up, he noticed that redhead from earlier, who had been staring, trembling, as the whole encounter went down. Ah, fuck, what was his name again? He was in Danny's P.E. class. The poor boy was shivering like a leaf, which made sense--Danny would have done the same if he saw a real ghost when he was still human.

The toilet ghost approached Danny, but stopped and scowled at the redhead. "Leave, human," he ordered. "This doesn't involve you."

The guy (His name started with a W, Danny remembered. Walt? Wes?) stared at the ghost for a moment, then hurriedly nodded and ran. That left the ghost flying in front of Danny.

"Your ghost ray!" Phantom repeated from behind the toilet ghost, as if that would make Danny understand what he was saying. "Just think about shooting him with your hands!"

Shooting him...with his hands? That made no sense, but Danny did as he was told. He made a finger gun and aimed it at the ghost, then imagined a pew! pew! come out.

Pew! came out the ray and shot the ghost right at his chest.

The opponent had only time to widen his eyes before he was slammed against the opposite wall and dissolved into (grossly) glowing water.

Danny slowly blinked. "...Functioning fingerguns," he said. "That's useful."

"What the actual fuck, dude?"

He turned and saw Tucker approach him, wearing a bewildered expression. He gestured wildly to Danny and said, "You're a ghost now? And your body is conscious on its own?"

"Actually, it's conscious because a ghost is inside," he replied, not-so-subtly glaring at Phantom as he said so.

Phantom threw his (or Danny's...whatever) arms up and said, "I didn't choose to be stuck in your body, okay? It was an accident."

Tucker rubbed his forehead. "I still don't understand. How is all this happenning?"

Before either Danny could speak, Sam's voice suddenly cut through and said, "I killed you."

Danny stared at Sam. She was hugging her arms, eyes downcast, and still looked pale as a sheet. "You're a ghost," she said softly. "That means you've died. And I killed you."

Danny felt that same tightness in his chest, not exactly squeezing any heart, but something similar. "I'm not dead," he tried again, but after repeating that sentence so many times, the lie sounded weak even to himself.

Phantom sent him a pitying gaze. Sam bit her lips and squeezed herself tighter. "Yes, you are. It was the portal accident. Somehow, you died and got replaced by...whoever this is." She gestured weakly to Phantom, then choked up and continued in a wavering voice, "It was my fault. I told you to go inside that portal. You're--you're dead, because of me. I killed you."

Seeing her like that, hearing her, made any sorry feelings Danny had for himself disappear. All he cared about was wiping that melancholy from his friend's eyes. "No," he told her firmly. "It wasn't your fault. I agreed. I--" A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed it down before saying, "I'm dead because of my own fault."

He could feel Phantom's eyes boring into him. Probably, that ghost (ex-ghost?) was thinking something along the lines of Fucking finally! You admit it to yourself at last, but the emotional intensity of the situation was likely what prevented him from voicing that thought out loud.

Sam raised her eyes and met his sadly. Tucker stepped forward, his brows drawn together. "But...but that can't be it!" he protested. He grabbed Phantom's arm and pointed out, "Your body is still alive, isn't it? Can't we...I dont know...redo the accident so it gets you back in your body the same way Phantom got inside yours?"

Danny perked up and felt a sliver of hope grow inside him, but Phantom was quick to shake his head and say, "That won't be so easy. The Ghost Zone is always shifting. Whatever spot I was in when the portal thing happened, it won't be the same place for Danny."

"Oh," Tucker said, deflating. His eyes turned downcast, and his hands fell limply off Phantom's arm. "I guess it can be it, then."

Phantom looked at the trio of friends, their broken expressions. He honestly didn't see what the big fuss was about, but he hated seeing them so sad, so he hurriedly added in a forcefully positive tone, "That's okay, though! Difficult doesn't have to mean impossible! I'm sure we can...uh..."

He trailed off after spotting a person at the end of the hallway. Confused, Danny turned to see who he was looking at. He found his sister, slack-jawed, her eyes darting between him and Phantom.

"Jazz!" he said, then looked down and noticed his ghostly appearance. "Um, I can explain."

Jazz didn't leave him room to, because she promptly fainted.

Danny rushed forward to grab her, but of course, she fell right through his arms. He winced when she hit her face on the hard floor. Tucker came forward and checked her.

"She's fine," he said with a cross between a smile and a grimace.

.

Jazz's eyes fluttered awake. She groaned and turned her head to the side. On the wall next to her was a silly cartoon infographic of flu symptoms. It took her mind a minute to recognize it, but she was at the school infirmary.

"You're awake?" asked a voice nearby. She turned her head to the other side and saw her brother's face.

"Danny..." She frowned and sat up on the infirmary bed. Her face hurt. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

Jazz tried to recall what brought her here. She remembered seeing seeing Danny, and...ghost Danny? She shook her head. "Must have been a dream," she mumbled.

"What?"

She saw Danny watching her curiously. She sighed and ran a hand across her face, which still ached for some reason. "I remember seeing you standing next to your ghost. I think you might have...died. But that couldn't have been possible."

"You think that was a dream."

Danny's expression was unreadable. Jazz frowned. "It had to be. Ghosts aren't real." Mentally, she added, I hope not.

Danny averted his eyes from her. She wondered if she said something wrong, but then Danny stood up from his chair and said, "You slipped and hit your face, so we brought you to the school nurse. You need some rest...I'll leave you alone."

It sounded reasonable enough, but something nagged at her. Danny wouldn't meet her eyes, instead choosing to fidget with the hem of his shirt. She had a feeling he was lying.

"Danny," she called. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Her brother stiffened. It looked like he was about to say something, but he must have changed his mind at the last minute because he left the room wordlessly.

.

Phantom exited the school infirmary. "She's okay," he told the air.

Danny visualized in front of him, wearing a frown. "I heard what went down. She thinks it wasn't real."

Phantom shrugged. He felt a little bad, but he wasn't sure he could handle her reaction if he told her that her brother was really dead...again. The first time he tried didn't go so cheerfully.

"Where are your friends?" Phantom asked, choosing to change the subject.

"You mean Sam and Tuck? What do you think?" He chuckled humorlessly, then gazed at his boots and murmured, "They just discovered that ghosts exist and their friend is dead. Of course they needed some time to process that."

Phantom bit his lip. "We'll find some way to switch us back. Maybe."

That "maybe" didn't sound so reassuring, and Danny didn't look reassured. Phantom grimaced and tried to think of a better way to lift his spirits, but then he heard footsteps approach. Danny made himself invisible while Phantom turned around and saw a familiar couple in orange and teal come toward them.

"Danno!" Danny's dad greeted him. "The school called--is Jazzy-pants alright?"

"She's fine," Phantom said with a steady voice. "She just had some low blood sugar is all."

The man patted his shoulder, then entered the room where Jazz was held. His wife went to follow him, but Phantom stopped her by calling, "Uh...Mom."

She spun to him and smiled. "What is it, sweetie?"

Phantom hesitated. He fidgeted with his shirt and asked, "Did you really mean what you said last night--about all ghosts being bad?"

The woman frowned. "Of course I did. Was I wrong?"

"It's just, well..." He focused on a random locker and said, "What if your son...I mean, what if I became a ghost? What would you do to me then?"

He braved a glance at her and saw a shadow cross her expression. She hesitated for a moment before replying carefully, "I don't like to think about that. I choose to believe that when you die, it won't be violent. I'll make sure of that." She forced a smile, then ruffled Phantom's hair and added, "But that doesn't matter right now. You're still alive and human. As long as you're with me, then I know that any ghost who looks like you is an imposter."

Phantom's stomach sank, and he swallowed down a lump that formed in his throat. Danny's mom only smiled at him once more before she followed her husband to see Jazz.

Danny didn't reappear. Phantom didn't see him for the rest of the day. But in that moment, he thought he heard a choked sob come from the air behind him.

#Danny Phantom #Phic Phight #phic phight 20 #phic phight 2020 #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #jazz fenton #maddie fenton #jack fenton #dash baxter #fic #fanfiction #writing #au #mine

[sylph-feather]

Half-hot water

Summary: Phantom disguising as his normal self is a strange prospect, but one must do what needs to be done.

Wordcount: 2174

Prompt: by @ecto-american

“Danny being stuck as Phantom and forced to deal with situations that he'd normally be as Fenton (like going to school, having a family dinner, etc)”

“This is possibly the most stupid idea we’ve ever had,” Danny mumbles.

“And that’s saying something,” Tuck chirps an aside.

“Stop moving,” Sam instructs, “I’m trying to make you look like you.”

Green eyes blink, baleful as Sam adds a layer of human toned makeup to Danny’s green toned skin. Danny pouts, but his lips are sealed.

“How long do you think it’ll last?” Tucker hums, thinking back to Skulker’s new weapon— obviously inspired by (if not provided by) Plasmius.

Danny’s lips part to reveal sharp canines as he makes to reply, but Sam shoots him a glaring look. Exaggeratedly and spitefully, Danny lifts his arms in a frustrated I don’t know motion.

“Find him an outfit,” Sam instructs to get the two to stop talking. Tucker shrugs and scampers off.

xXx

By the time he’s back, Tucker has procured gender ambiguous things from Sam’s closet— all black, yes, but just a hoodie with a t-shirt and lounge pants.

The first step, of course, is removing the jumpsuit. Danny’s friends turn around.

And wait.

And wait.

And—

“C’mon man, what’s taking so long?” Tucker groans.

“Uh,” Danny’s small voice comes, “we may have a problem,” he says slowly, drifting over to them. His hair is black, but it drifts like Phantom’s wispy underwater hair; it’s a strange image, to see him so intentionally human, yet still with an aura and glowing green eyes and all the other subtly ghostly things.

Danny is still in his jumpsuit, just minus the gloves that he has tucked into one of the thing’s sleek pockets— really cementing his Phantom image.

Fantom? Tucker considers as a name for this, or maybe Fentom…? Phentom? Hm.

Sam, meanwhile, looks about ready to yell at Danny, asking why he is still in that jumpsuit.

In answer to the unsaid rant, Danny peels off a shiningly white jumpsuit boot, throwing it to the side.

For a moment, his foot is bare, and fairly human asides from the skin toned with green blood and the sharpened nails— and then. And then the boot makes a faint hiss, a bubbling sound on Sam’s carpet, and it melts. The leg of Danny’s jumpsuit then also seems to melt, rubbery material dripping into a new boot.

“That’s weird,” Tucker grunts as Danny settles on shoving all his clothes over the jumpsuit.

xXx

He can’t transform by the time the makeup is done, or by the time he reaches home from his “study session” (as was his excuse, his lie).

He tested all the other powers, putting a little float into his step, a little glow to his hands, flickering out of existence and tangibility… only the going-human one was left broken by that stupid, stupid electrical shock.

He gives his outfit a once over, tugging at things. His skin glows faintly beneath the makeup, and his eyes glow less faintly under the uncomfortable colored contacts (he’d almost gagged, putting the things in his eyes and blinking them into position), hence why he’s wearing sunglasses as additional cover, to keep people from noticing the toxic green light behind the blue.

Keep people like his parents from noticing. Parents that would— don’t think about that. He breathes in, breathes out, puts his feet back on the floor from which he had slightly drifted.

“I’m home,” he announces slowly, awkwardly bringing up that mask of normal to try to outrun the fact that he was anything but. He hopes his voice doesn’t echo too much. From this distance, at least, he doesn’t feel bad about removing the sunglasses (after all, he’d be questioned more about wearing them inside). Danny just tries to slant his eyes down.

“Hey sweetie,” Maddie says, absentmindedly fiddling with some machine at the table as Jack gives a muffled echo of that around the food he has shoved in his mouth. Jazz gives him a wave from her book, not even glancing up. His mother continues, “how was studying?”

That alone is enough to make him sigh a little in relief. “Good,” he pushes out with a nervous titter. “You know how great Sam and Tuck are,” he awkwardly adds. He considers excuses to get up to his room— normally he hangs around and chats a little, or listens to his parents rant, or does homework downstairs. But today he doesn’t exactly want to do that, but he also doesn’t want to be too dramatic and draw attention, so—

“There is a ghost ahead,” the sleek machine beeps, lights on it whirring.

Jazz, of all of them, freezes and stares at him— and then she stares harder, and Danny can feel his sharp nailed hands itching, and his hair feels scratchy around his pricked ears, and his aura feels bright— it’s as though he can see that she’s noticing all that.

Thankfully, Maddie and Jack on the other hand just laugh. “Silly thing. There’s no signs of a presence of one of those suffering spooks” his father guffaws.

(Behind him, the kitchen light flickers a little).

Danny barks a nervous, raucous laugh. You’re being paranoid, they don’t suspect you at all. “I’m, uh,” he pauses, stuttering, “gonna work upstairs today, if that’s alright,” he laughs, and it’s so fake he wants to claw at his throat. “I’m just feeling a little people-d out today, you know?” Danny is at least proud of coming up with a reasonable excuse that doesn’t invite scrutiny, and gives him an out for other extended family time.

“Aw, alright,” his dad pouts. “How can ya get people-d out?” he grunts with a laugh.

Maddie rolls her eyes. “You’re just too energetic, Jack. That’s fine, Danny— though do come down for dinner, please. Just a little time, at least,” she smiles.

Oh, crap. Now Danny feels bad. Wednesdays are usually reserved specifically for sit down together dinners; they have them other days, but Wednesday is the always, the guaranteed.

Danny’s head swirls with excuses from nausea to more introvertedness to headaches. What his mouth, against his better judgement, says is, “OK, yeah! Sounds good.”

He smiles nervously, lips moving to keep sharp teeth hidden, and he leaves just at a speed just a little under too fast to be considered normal.

xXx

Danny feels like throwing something as he angrily paces the air of his bedroom. Why did I say that? I’m so stupid.

There’s a knock on his door, and Danny thumps to the ground, scrabbling at his outfit to get it tugged down over his jumpsuit and glow. “Come in,” he stammers.

Jazz enters. “Sorry to bother you,” she says.

Danny shrugs.

And— and she just stands there, staring. Subconscious and feeling all the failures of his disguise, Danny picks at the threads of the hoodie to keep himself from further drawing attention to those features— after all, he now wants nothing more than to fiddle with all of them; to close his eyes even more, to ensure there’s no white patch in his hair that Sam missed, to brush that hair more thoroughly over his sharper ears, to flood the lights in his room so his glow isn’t so noticeable.

It isn’t until Jazz, still silent, takes a step forward while staring deep into the colored contacts that Danny blinks (and now those contacts feel so uncomfortable and gritty against his eye, ugh) ans says, “uh.”

“Right,” Jazz says slowly. “Sorry.”

And then she leaves.

Weird.

xXx

Danny is left to his own devices for the rest of the evening, which… asides from the tendency to float as he does them, he doesn’t do anything all that abnormal in relation to his routine. That is: keeping an eye for the foggy breath that came with ghost attacks while doing homework and studies, cleaning his room, and videogaming (or otherwise relaxing).

Thankfully, the universe for once decides to let Danny have a break, leaving him with finished homework and a clean room (for once), and time aplenty to just relax.

It isn’t until he smells dinner cooking that the dread kicks in.

xXx

His parents are calling him, and Danny is having a mental breakdown over sunglasses. Sunglasses.

He ditches them, because ultimately the thought that they’d invite more suspicion, or even worse, concern, is just too much.

“You look a little flushed,” his mother points out, pushing a plate towards him so he can serve himself.

Danny refrains from making a pale as a ghost joke, or saying something about that’s why his eyes look bright (that would only point them out, even if it excuses them in the same motion), and instead just laughs a breathy laugh. He keeps his lips tucked over his sharpened teeth, nervous.

Over the whole dinner, Danny can’t restrain himself from that urge to excessively fiddle. He messes with his hair, running sharp nails to comb it into place— make sure it isn’t drifting in that watery way it does sometimes, make sure it’s covering his pointed ears. He stares at his skin, checking for makeup smudges, carefully eats so that the makeup that feels so heavy on his lips does not become overly smudged and so that his teeth are not to exposed.

It’s calculated, it’s exhausting, and it’s frankly overdoing it for his rather selectively observant parents.

What reason would they have to suspect me? Danny constantly reminds himself as he stares at the food to keep his glowing eyes from their faces.

He babbles; he knows not about what, just generalizations. School, how his tests have gone, assignments he finds interesting (he is a nerd at the core, despite his grades). Sam and Tucker and the renewed fight of diet.

Thankfully, his family is enough to carry the conversation as well— especially, of course, Jack (as usual). Not per usual, Jazz does not participate. No, she spends dinner doggedly trying to meet his eyes, and Danny spends it vehemently avoiding hers.

Never would he have thought Jazz, the rational, logical, sister that didn’t believe in ghosts would be the biggest threat to his secret.

“I’m going to get some more,” she hums, and walks behind Danny.

His shoulders tense, body gone rigid.

Her hand just ruffles his hair— he feels it tickle at the edge of his ear, meaning it was exposed... and Jazz just gives him an odd smile, meeting his eyes briefly (he dropped guard on that feature out of surprise), before spooning more food on her plate.

...Danny doesn’t look the gift horse in the mouth (or the eyes), and he counts his blessings.

xXx

Sleep is, apparently, not something that comes easy in ghost form. Danny wouldn’t have known before all this, considering any time he was knocked out or fell asleep ordinarily, he’d revert to being a human, and he was never stupid enough to be a ghost in his own house as he did something as vulnerable as sleep.

Emphasis on that he was never stupid enough, on that past tense, because that is exactly what is doing now.

...Or, trying to do.

Instead, he floats a little above the bed, unable to keep concentration on staying grounded while trying to perform the activity of little concentration. A hard balancing act.

Really, after what felt like forever, Danny concludes it is highly likely that ghosts weren’t exactly made to sleep. That, or they weren’t made to do so at night; the darkness sends his cells abuzz, and explains to him why so many freaky things happened in the dark because he so wants to just go crazy. It is almost like Danny had drunk caffeine too late in the day, and now he’s gotten jittery— except he didn’t do that, so.

For good measure, he tries again on the human form front. Just a faint white spark— better than nothing, at least, and a little improvement considering it was nothing last he had checked. If it still was without improvement by now, maybe Danny would’ve worried about dying the rest of the way by an idiotic taser, but that improvement indicated he was (probably) fine, so he didn’t need to have one of his many existential crises.

So he stares,

— stares… stares… stares…

He feels his lids getting heavy.

xXx

Maddie shakes him awake.

“Rough night?” she asks, and Danny gives a nervous laugh, startlingly awake as memories jolt back.

Maddie frowns at her fingers, rubbing together waxy makeup, but shrugs it off.

Unable to stop himself, Danny’s eyes (crusty and uncomfortable with a night of sleeping with contacts in; the things feel more like shards in his eyes than ever) flick down to look at the hand his mother grabbed… to find it unsmudged.

No, wait.

He runs a finger along it, and makeup comes off, but it reveals human toned, pink tinted skin beneath.

His mom continues, oblivious to Danny’s joy— “I had trouble sleeping, too— trying to fix that new invention, because it kept saying there was a ghost here.” She laughs in a scoff.

Danny can’t project that same confidence, but he can laugh anyways, fully human once again.

#dp #phic #phic phight #phic phight 2020 #dp fanfic #Danny Phantom #phic phight 20

[dp-marvel94]

For the fic-writer-ask-game-thing: 12, 17, and 21.🙂🙂

12. Is there a trope you haven’t written yet but really want to?

I don't think this is an actual trope but I've never actually written the Fenton parents meeting Dani, even though I've got a bunch of stories where logically that's what should happen next. I'm thinking when I finish Face to Face, I'm going to write at least the next chapter of "It was an accident, I swear." which should have that scene in it.

17. What fic are you most proud of?

It's predictable but I'm going to have to say Face to Face. I've been working on this story since November 2019. It's at almost 250K now and I just might finish it this year. I've got 5 chapters and an epilogue left and I'm so close to the climax. I've been dying to write this particular scene for years and I'm so proud of this story, of how much my writing's improved, how far I've taken the characters. I think I'll be sad when it's done but I'm also really excited to finish.

21. What is the one fic that got away?

So I'll give two answers here, since I'm not sure if this is supposed to mean a story you've started but will probably never finish, or an idea you've had that you'll probably never write.

First, this fic. I wrote for the phic phight back in 2020. The summary: Phantom, the adoptive son of Clockwork, doesn't remember his life but wishes he did. Jack Fenton, ghost hunter, lost his only son at a young age. When the portal activates, a newly half-human Phantom stumbles into Jack's lab, bearing a painfully familiar blue-eyed, black haired form.

At the time, I'd thought about doing a multi-chapter version that's 50K plus. (My estimation at the time; really with my writing now it would be 100K+ 😂)

It would have Maddie and Jazz returning and meeting Phantom, the half ghost slowly remembering who he is, Jack noticing the resemblance much more slowly until he eventually tells Maddie who refuses to get her hopes up, and Phantom (Danny) figuring out the truth but being scared to say anything because why would the Fentons want him as a son. It would end with him telling Jazz and eventually getting the courage to tell their parents. Oh, and I'd have a side plot of the Observants finding out and Clockwork dealing with that with an eventual reunion and Clockwork meeting Danny's human parents.

It would have been a lot of fun, especially with that parental Clockwork. But I wasn't that far in Face to Face at the time and now have so many other multi-chapter stories I want to write more.

And a story I've never written anything for and probably never will-

The idea start after reading "Simulacrum" by @bibliophilea with Danny Fenton dying in the portal and Danny Phantom being a ghost possessing his still living body. I was imagining the vibes are kinda like "Real Life" by @cordria and "Mother Knows Best" by MayAnny, at least at first.

In this story, ghosts are not dead people but scary, inhuman monsters. They're very single-minded and selfish, only focused and feeding and defending their territory. Ghosts are attracted to human souls and feed off of the emotions coming from them like mites eating dead skin. That's how Phantom ends up fusing with Danny's body; he senses Danny's dying soul and is drawn to the portal. He reaches for the soul, wanting it to hold on, since a ghost can't feed off an emotionless dead body. Danny's soul slips away as he dies but, in that in-between place, a tiny portion breaks off, staying in the body.

This isn't all that noticeable at first. Phantom, in Danny's body, is very uncoordinated and confused. There's vague memories in the body's brain, enough to figure out what's happening. He hides out in Danny's room for a while, adjusting. He avoids Jack and Maddie, realizing they're dangerous if they discover him. Jazz is busy so he doesn't see much of her at first. Since ghosts aren't capable of emotions like humans are, Phantom doesn't really care about Danny's friends and family. They're just a food source to him. He does have restrain; most ghosts are opportunist parasites, not predators. They need to keep the humans they feed off of alive. But why would they care about their emotion wellbeing?

So, it's a surprise, even to himself when Phantom does. A few days after the accident, Sam and Tucker come to check on him. Ravenous, he grabs onto Sam's arm, easier to feed on her emotions. He drinks too deeply, the dark purple of her soul, only visible to ghosts like him, flickering erratically. The goth's eyes blow wide, arm frantically pulling away as her emotions flare with sharp fear. Phantom lets go and... it hits him, as odd flickering inside. He doesn't want her to be afraid, not off him. There's... an odd warmth in his chest once Sam calms down and she and Tucker asked about what's going on, eyes wide with concern. Phantom realizes he doesn't want them to know what he actually is, that he isn't actually Danny.

So the lying starts, the pretending to be human. The strange memories help with that. Phantom learns quickly. When the other ghosts come, he protects his humans. He gets used to family, friends, school, growing more human the longer he stays in the human world.

The longer this goes on, the more strange Phantom feels. There's odd feelings, odd drives he doesn't understand. He wants to protect Sam and Tucker. When they get upset seeing his injuries from ghost fights, he wants to comfort them, make them feel better. They hang out, joke with each other and... Phantom laughs.

Then there's the Fenton parents. Living in the same house, encounters are unavoidable. They're not nearly as bad as he'd thought at first. They're loud, boisterous, excitable. In public, they call him and Jazz embarrassingly sweet pet names and insist on goodbye kisses. And.... Phantom blushes, like any other teenager. But secretly, somewhere deep inside, that warm feeling returns. When he says, "i love you too" like the son he's pretending to be, it doesn't feel completely fake.

And then there's Jazz. The red-head watches him with furrowed brow, always worried. Something in him churns, almost... uneasy with the looks. But she also ruffles his hair, asks him what's wrong, why he's been so tense since the accident. Something in him flickers, something that tastes like guilt. And... that warm feeling, the damned warm feeling....

Phantom can see human souls, as odd mixtures of color and smell. And sometimes, when he looks in the mirror, he sees a glimpses of something in his own blue eyes. Something that shouldn't be there but also should.

Spectra shows up. This is when Jazz discovers Phantom is not her brother. There's lots of emotion at the reveal. Jazz is angry, betrayed, grieved. And Phantom's heart aches, the feelings almost bring him to his knees. It's so strong, a tidal wave crashing over him.

Spectra pounces, feeding off of him. Somehow, impossibly, he's giving off emotions, human emotions, she can feed one. It doesn't make sense. It feels like he's being ripped apart. It hurts so much. But.. he knows. He's known for a while. Phantom is not really a ghost any more. He's... something else now. Something... almost human. Over the months, he's become more human as he's built on Danny’s soul fragment.

That's the flickering green, the shape of a soul he catches a glimpses of in his own eyes. That's the mysterious smoky scent that he's smelt in Sam, Tucker, Jazz, and the Fenton parents' souls. That's the mark that his freaky, unnatural twisted soul-thing leaves when it touches his loved ones. His Loved Ones. Somehow, he loves them.

The thought is enough to get up and fight. Jazz intercedes though, helping him stop Spectra. But she won't talk to him after that. Not for months. For some reason, she doesn't tell anyone. Maybe she feels some pity. She doesn't want Danny's friends and their parents to have to face the knowledge that their friend and son is gone, that a monster is masquerading in his skin.

A monster.... that word rings in Phantom's head for the next months. That guilt is there now, so much stronger now that he recognizes and acknowledges he feels it. It's horrible but also... it's almost good. He can feel. Now that knows his human side in there, that the borrowed soul inside of him is real, he can almost feel it growing. And he lets it. He embraces it. It hurts. It hurts so much. But he can feel. He can love. And it's so much better than ghostly numbness. His previous existence really was cursed. And maybe this is why ghosts feed on human emotions. Maybe that was all a futile attempt to fill that ache, an ache he hadn't even been aware of.

So Phantom... Danny, a part of him whispers... lets himself so more human. He fights for his town. He protects. He hangs out with Sam and Tucker. He... thinks about telling them the truth, about confronting his sister. Except... no, Jazz isn't his sister. She's Danny's. He's just the creature that stole her brother's body.

The guilt is eating him alive now. For a while, the emotions were a bliss but they've grown. He's grown. Within weeks... he's a fake. An imposter. This isn't his life, his body. It's not even his soul. His gift, this humanity is stolen. It doesn't belong to him. He doesn't deserve it.

Maybe Spectra was right, maybe he's just a ghost pretending to be human.

The Ghost King comes and Phantom fights. He takes the suit and reseals Pariah. He doesn't care if he dies (if he can even die). He doesn't care if this destroys him. As long as his loved ones are safe. As long as they're okay, this will be worth it. And maybe.... maybe his destruction will make up for the life he's stolen.

The suit does almost destroy him. As the percentage ticks down, Phantom has peace. He suceeded. They're safe. Everything fades to black.

Phantom blinks awake darkness, speckled with stars surrounding him. In the distance, a figure approaches. Closer.... it's a boy. Black hair, blue eyes.

A wave. "There you are. I've been waiting."

"Where am I? Who are you?"

"Well, there's no easy way to put this but... you're in limbo."

"Limbo...." Dread. Fear. "Like...."

The boy, the familiar boy shakes his head. "You're not actual dead. Just having a near death experience."

That hits Phantom like a truck. A near death experience.... the dread deepens because.... "Who are you?" The question is painfully quiet.

The boy smiles teasingly. "Come on, you know the answer to the that."

"Danny." His mouth is dry. "You're... you're the real Danny."

The boy, Danny, frowns. "I wouldn't say the real Danny. It's not like I'm any more real than you are."

"Why are you here?"

Danny shrugs, still frowning. "It's customary for a family member to met you on the way to the afterlife. Grandma Fenton wanted to come but I begged for it to be me."

"Why?" Phantom trembles, dread and disbelief an ugly, paralyzing mess.

"Why?" Danny holds up his hands. "I wanted to meet you."

The ghost feels like crying. "But.. but why? Why would you... would you want to met me? I... I took everything from you."

"No you didn't. I was already dead" Danny shakes his head. "Besides, why wouldn't I want to meet my baby brother?"

Phantom actually does cry as Danny reassures him. "I've been watching and... and I'm so proud of you, of what you've been doing with your life."

"But... but it's your life. I... I took it. I'm just... just a ghost possessing a corpse."

"No, you're not." A wave of a hand and mirror appears. "You're not really a ghost at all." Phantom and Danny side by side. "Don't you see? You're not in your body. You're just your soul right now. And this is what you look like."

In the mirror is Danny Fenton's face. Blue eyes, black hair, freckles, the familiar scar by his ear.

"And look deeper." Danny, the original, says.

Phantom does. Two swirling masses of glittering green.

"We're twin souls." Danny motioned. "See." The wispy clouds of soul ripple. The colors, the movement.... so similar, so familiar. "We're not completely the same." And Phantom catches the whiff of smell. Smoke and pine. Flowers and fudge and books. Apples and steak. The trace of all his... their loved ones mix together, in different combinations. "But we're made of the same stuff."

Phantom can see it. He can feel it. Something in his loosens.

"So you didn't take anything you weren't allowed to have. Really, I'm happy you were there. If you hadn't been, well.... Danny Fenton would just be gone. But he's not."

"But... you're Danny Fenton." Phantom's brow furrows.

"I was." A shrug. "But now you are. It's your life now."

The two talk for what felt like hours. There are reassurances, stories, hugs.

They laugh, they smile. And... it feels like they'd known each other forever. Like they're old friends. Phantom's heart swells with love, with brotherly affection. He has so many thoughts, so many questions.

There are so many stories. So many jokes. So many promises: to tell Sam and Tucker the truth, to tell Jazz her brother loves her.

Slowly, light seeps in.

"You'll be waking up soon."

Phantom's shoulders fall, eyes downcast. "Oh. I guess this is goodbye then." His eyes are watering. "I'll miss you."

"You'll see me again." Danny puts an arm around him.

Phantom's eyes widen. "Really?"

The other boy nods. "Yep. It'll be sooner than you think. Just a blink really, when you're looking at forever. But," He turns placing his hands on his counterpart's shoulder. "You are going to live a long and happy life. You'll graduate, go to college, travel, live your dreams. You'll do so much good. And when it's your time, when you're done.... I'll be here, waiting. And you can tell me all about it."

"O... okay. I will." Crying, Phantom practically crushes Danny in a hug. "I'll see you again."

"Yes. You will. Bye, Danny. Have a good life."

With that, Danny fades away.

And Danny wakes up.

There are tears on his face. Beeping near his head, a oxygen masks over his mouth.

He blinks, fumbling to move it.

"Danny!" "You're awake."

Mom and Dad. They hover in his vision, hugging each other and crying.

"Doctor! Get the doctor!" "Our boy's awake!"

In a flurry of action, doctors and nurses check him. Lights are shone in his eyes, vitals checked. A battery of tests.

"He's completely fine." "It's a miraculous recovery!"

The parent hover over him. So many worried, loving words. But Jazz hangs back, quiet but... face just as wet.

The two trade knowing looks. Eventually... "You two should get food. You haven't eaten all day." Jazz insists. "I'll stay with him."

The parents left, leaving the two siblings alone.

There's awkward silence for a long moment. Then....

Jazz practically rushes forward, throwing her arms around him. "We were so worried! You just disappeared with the suit. And Mom and Dad... they found you out side the shield. You were... you were almost dead. We thought...." She hiccups on a sob. "We thought you wouldn't make it. You liked so... so pale and thought.... I kept thinking. I couldn't.... I couldn't loss you again. I... I can't. I can't loss you again."

Phantom, Danny, froze, mind spinning. What was she... she saying? She couldn't be.... The thoughts crash in his head and before he ca really process.... "I saw him, the... the real Danny."

Jazz steps back, eyes wide. "What?"

"I saw him, when I was... was unconscious. Your... your real brother." Real... the word isn't quite right, not anymore. His, Phantom, is Danny Fenton. He is Jazz's brother. But in her mind, that's not true, is it?

The girl's brow furrows, confusion deepening. "How?"

Danny explains. His near death experience, his conversation with his passed-on counterpart. "He wanted me to tell you he loves and misses you."

Jazz's eyes well with tears. "He did?"

"Yeah. He really loves you." The boy shrugs, looking down guiltily. "I... I'm sorry that I'm here and he's not."

There's silence for a long time. Then.... Jazz's hand on his arm. "That's not your fault." She whips her face. "I'm happy... I'm so happy you're okay."

Phantom looks up, blinking, disbelieving. She... she'd hugged him earlier. She... she'd said she didn't want to loss him. His lip trembles. "Do you... do you mean that?"

Jazz nods, whispering. "I thought I was going to loss you."

The words speak volumes and her eyes.... round and wet, shining with... with something Danny can't hope is really there. But...

Phantom stiffens, catching a whiff. She's touching him and her emotions flicker at the edge of his awareness. But that can't... that can't be what he's sensing. That can't be...

"I... I'm so sorry. I'd been so mad, so angry at you for so long. But... but none of this is your fault. The accident wasn't your fault. It's not your fault he's... he's gone."

The boy looks down, guilt flaring. But Jazz continues.

"It's not your fault. But I was blaming you and pushing you away. And... and I could have lost you. I could have lost you without telling you..." Danny gasp, the weight of her emotion washing over him. "I love you. I love you so much little brother."

The half ghost shakes, cries, trembles. She... she loves him.

"You're not the Danny I grew up with but you are by brother. I love you. I love you so much.”

He hugs her tighter. Jazz loves him. She loves him. And it's all he can think.

(XD And you got me to write it as a fic... kinda? I wrote this instead of working on Face to Face, so I hope ya'll are happy. 😂😅)

#Danny Phantom #my post #my ficlet #spooky inhuman ghosts au #with some sibling bonding! #and maybe a near death experience 👀 #i wrote this instead of working on Face to Face 😅

[q-gorgeous]

Why Am I So Heavy?

fanfiction

Word count: 4318

Prompt for the Phic Phight by @voidetrap. Danny is a ghost who became half-human after stumbling through a portal to the human world.

guys this is the longest fic ive ever written i hope this keeps up i need to catch up to laz

Footsteps could be heard walking through a forest, the sounds of twigs snapping as two teenagers made their way through the trees.

“C’mon, Sam. The last time you dragged me out here to do some spooky ritual I was hiccuping out daisies for a week. Can’t you find someone else to drag out into the middle of nowhere, or go by yourself?”

“No can do, Tucker. Going on hikes by yourself is dangerous and everyone else was busy.”

Tucker grumbled. “I wish I was busy.”

“Here we are!” Sam shouted, running past Tucker into a clearing in the trees that led to a cliff overlooking the rest of the forest. 

Sam walked over to a large, dead tree and started rummaging around in it’s hollow base. She pulled out a large stick, a toolbox, and a crystal ball. 

“Today the earth and sun’s electromagnetic fields are supposed to form a portal, which usually just exchanges electrons. Though I think if I can get this pentagram set up with these quartz and crystals, I can make it work. Oh! And today’s also the solstice, that’ll help too.”

Tucker watched as Sam walked around the clearing, drawing a large pentagram into the ground with a stick. “Electromagnetic hoohaa? How do you even know what that means?”

Looking up at him, pausing in her task, she blew hair out of her eyes. “Don’t you ever go listen to the Fenton’s when they give presentations at the library? They’re kind of weird, but the concepts they propose are actually pretty rad.”

Tucker shook his head vigorously. “Nuh uh. No way. The last time you took me with it was only the two of us and he spent three hours talking about his childhood. Three hours! I didn’t wanna know about how he cried every night at dinner because he had to eat horse meat.”

Looking back down to her drawing in the dirt, Sam shrugged. “Your loss then. Lately they’ve started bringing their inventions in to show people and they go over their blueprints and everything. Mrs. Fenton is also thinking about doing defense classes. Did you know she’s a fourth degree black belt?”

“Nope, and I don’t really care to learn more.” He squinted his eyes and looked up into the trees, smiling mischievously. “Though… I would like to learn more about Jazz Fenton.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Dream on, Tuck. Now come here and put down these candles and quartz at each point while I lug the crystal ball over here.”

Tucker walked over and bent down to open the toolbox, scooping everything out of it. “Dream on? Next time I see Jazz Fenton I’ll walk right up to her and use one of my signature pick up lines. It’s foolproof!” He placed a candle and quartz on the ground at his feet.

“Okay, Tucker.” Sam grunted as she lifted the crystal ball into her arms. “I’ll hold you to that.”

She placed the crystal ball in the center of the pentagram and walked over to her backpack as Tucker lit each of the candles. She pulled out a book and flipped to her latest entry. Stepping over a log and kneeling behind it, she beckoned Tucker over.

“Okay, come behind here. I’m not sure what’ll happen but the Fenton’s said when they tried opening a ghost portal in college it blew up in their friend’s face.”

“Wait, what?!”

Before Tucker could continue, Sam interrupted him, chanting. 

“Vocare nos spirituum ligno!”

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

Danny floated on his back through the ghost zone, bored out of his mind. Everyone was busy today. 

Ember and Skulker were on a date. Johnny and Kitty were fighting. Even the Box Ghost had something to do! What was a dead guy supposed to do for entertainment around here?

He rolled onto his stomach and let out a large sigh. The ghost zone needed a new attraction or something. Like a theme park. Yeah, maybe he should talk to-

Something a ways ahead of him caught his eye. It looked like a little flicker of green light. Looking closely again, he could see a small swirl of green mist. 

Today just got a lot more interesting. 

He flew over to it but soon it disappeared again, without a trace. He scratched the top of his head. What was that? He floated around the space in a circle, his eyes never leaving the spot. 

After a few seconds, he shrugged. Maybe it was a ghost trying to form that wasn’t very successful. He wondered where it went. Purgatory? Maybe.

Just as Danny was turning away, he could see the swirl again out of the corner of his eye but it increased in size and suddenly Danny was screaming in pain. 

Pain, why was he in so much pain? Were ghosts even supposed to feel this much pain? What was happening?

And suddenly, suddenly he was falling. Falling and falling through this bright, swirling thing that engulfed him. 

The last thought that went through his mind was that he had forgotten what gravity felt like, and with a smack, everything went dark. 

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

“Si vocare te spirituum.” Tucker said as he looked over Sam’s shoulder at her book. “Clearly you don’t know latin.”

Sam was fuming and pushed his face away from her. “Why’d you tell me to use google translate if you KNOW LATIN?!”

Tucker raised his hands in surrender as he backed away from her. “I couldn’t have you knowing I knew latin! I’d be forever dragged into your schemes!”

“Yeah, well-” Sam was cut off as she heard a groan come from the clearing on the other side of the log. Looking over, covering Tucker’s mouth to shush him, she could see a pale skinned boy with black hair laying on top of her now crushed crystal ball. 

A swirling green portal that she hadn’t noticed during her bickering with Tucker was hovering above him, flickering out of existence. Gaze traveling back down to the boy, she scrunched her eyebrows. 

This didn’t look like a ghost. He looked like a normal kid. Why did a normal kid just fall out of her ghost portal?

Sam stood up slowly and stepped over the log and out of Tucker’s grasp as he tried to hold her back. She walked over to the boy and knelt down and was just about to check his pulse when he groaned again, sending her toppling down onto her butt. 

“Ugh, why do I feel so heavy?”

His eyes slowly slid open, and his head shakily raised and his gaze met hers. They stared at each other until he started taking in his surroundings, panic growing on his face. 

“Where am I?! What did you do to me?!” Sam shook her head, eyes wide. “I don’t know! I was trying to open a portal to the ghost zone and then you fell out! What were you even doing in there?”

“What was I doing in there? What do you think I was doing in there? I’m a ghost!”

Tucker cleared his throat from where he still knelt behind the log. “Sorry to break it to you, dude, but you don’t look like any ghost I’ve ever seen.” “What do you-” The boy stopped as his hair fell into his eyes. “Black? My hair isn’t black! What’s going on?!”

Sam hurriedly pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened the camera, pointing it at his face so he could see himself. “What are you supposed to look like?”

The boy grabbed his hair, pulled on the skin under his blue eyes, pinched his arms. His breaths started coming faster and faster until he glared up at Sam, his eyes now flashing green. “What did you do to me?!” He yelled, the sound much louder than anything a human should be capable of, prompting Sam and Tucker to cover their ears.

“I don’t know!” Sam shouted, her heart beating wildly. “I was just trying to open a portal to see if the ghost zone was real! I didn’t know you’d be there!”

“I wanna go home!” He wailed, sending the candles and quartz flying away from the pentagram. 

A flash of white light appeared around the boy’s waist, traveling across his figure until a glowing ghost with white hair lay on the ground instead. Floating up, he flexed his fingers and pulled an ectoblast into his hand. 

“Sam!” Tucker shouted. “When you’re done talking to ghosts aren’t you supposed to say goodbye to them when they need to leave? Right”

She nodded and looked back up at the boy. “Yeah. Goodbye, spirit! Begone!”

He kept floating steadily towards her, an angry look in his eyes. 

Panic flared up inside her chest. 

“Goodbye! Au revoir! Auf wiedersehen!”

“Sam?!” Tucker shrieked. 

“It’s not working!”

The ghost boy pulled back an arm, readying to throw the ectoplasm in his hand when he shuddered and dropped to the ground, the bright flash appearing once again and leaving behind the same, human looking boy from before. 

“What is this?” He grumbled into the dirt. “I feel so heavy and tired. And warm. Gosh, way too warm.”

Sam listened to him wheeze in confusion, her brows furrowed. Ghosts didn’t need to breathe, did they? Why was this one out of breath on the ground?

She scooted towards him slowly and held out her hand to him.

“Can I see something?” She asked softly. 

He looked at her hand, puzzled, before placing his own on top of it. Sam cradled it with one hand and with the other she took two fingers and placed them on his wrist.

Her mouth dropped open. 

“You… You have a pulse.”

“What?” He pulled his hand away, glaring down at the offending appendage. “That can’t be possible.”

“Well it’s there.” She said, nodding towards him. “ Check for yourself.”

He squinted at her, brows drawn, but reached up two fingers and placed them on the side of his neck. His eyes shot open and he looked back at her in disbelief. 

“But… I died. I was a ghost. This can’t… This isn’t…”

The trio was silent for a few moments until Tucker plopped down next to Sam.

“What do we do now?” He asked. 

In response, the ghost boy’s stomach grumbled and with wide eyes he looked at it in shock. 

“Well.” Sam said. “I guess we need to get him some food. Let’s start cleaning up.”

Tucker and Sam began cleaning up, storing the candles and quartz back in the toolbox and erasing the pentagram while the ghost boy just stared at the ground.

“Uh, Sam?” Tucker started. “What are we going to do about the crystal ball?”

Sam looked at the ground where it was smashed to pieces and groaned. 

“We’ll have to lug a garbage bag back with us. Can you grab the shovel from the tree and I’ll get a bag from my backpack?”

“Can do, Stew.” Tucker saluted and walked over to the hollow in the trunk. 

Sam picked up the book she had dropped on the ground and stuck it in her backpack before grabbing a bag. Turning back around she saw the ghost boy standing shakily, one hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Sorry for breaking your...thing.”

Sam shrugged. “It’s okay, I can just get a new one. It’s not like it was really your fault anyways.”

As she held the bag open, Tucker began scooping up shards of the crystal ball and soon Sam tied it off, slinging it over her shoulder. After storing the shovel back in the tree Tucker joined the two.

“So, man, did you ever say what your name was?”

“Oh, uh, Danny. Danny Phantom.”

“Nice to meet you, sort of.” Danny’s face fell at that and Tucker back tracked. “But it’s going good now! Right? First impressions aren’t everything!”

Sam rolled her eyes. “I’m Sam, and that’s Tucker, my reluctant right hand man.”

Tucker flared up the collar on his button up shirt. “That’s Tucker Foley, TF for Too Fine.”

Chuckling, Sam elbowed him. 

“Well, since you’ll need sustenance and shelter for an unforeseeable amount of time, you can sleep over at my house tonight!”

Sam’s face dropped. “Oh my god, Tucker.”

“What? It’s not weird to have sleepovers at our age. It just means we have extra friend time.”

“Not that! What are we supposed to do with him? He’s supposed to be dead! He doesn’t have a birth certificate or any kind of identification! And it’s not like he can stay with us forever. My parents would freak.”

“Hm.” Tucker tapped his chin. “I did not think of that.”

Danny groaned. “So I have to eat food now and find shelter without having anyway to do that? Being dead is so much easier.”

“We’ll make it work!” Sam rushed. “Let’s just go to the Nasty Burger and get something to eat first. Then we’ll figure something out.”

Both boys nodded simultaneously. 

“Okay.”

“Sounds good.”

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

The three were in a booth at the Nasty Burger, Sam and Tucker long finished with their food while Danny was on his sixth round of a Mighty Meaty Burger meal. 

“Dude, even if you haven’t eaten since you died surely you aren’t that hungry? You’ve only felt hunger for like, an hour now.” Tucker said incredulously as he tapped something on his phone. 

“Try not eating anything for an entire year and see how much you miss the feeling of eating delicious food.” Danny quipped back, his mouth full. 

“You got me there.” Tucker said as he threw a finger gun towards Danny. 

“Okay, guys, I think we need to start talking about what we’re going to do instead of watching Danny eat.” She tapped her chin as she thought. “We could go talk to the Fentons!”

Tucker looked at her, a deadpan expression on his face. 

“You want to go talk to the Fentons, who are ghost hunters, about this ghost-human hybrid that we accidentally unleashed?”

“Wait ghost hunters?” Danny mumbled around a mouth full of food. 

“Who else are we gonna talk to? They’re the only people who study ghosts around here, and they know me. No one else would want to listen to a bunch of kids anyways.”

“Wait, Sam, can we go back to the ghost hunter part-” 

“Do you know how risky it would be to bring him there?” Tucker asked. “We don’t know what’d they’d do to him, especially because there’d be no trace of him, since he's, you know, dead.”

“Tucker-”

“They’re not gonna kidnap him, Tucker!”

“How do you-”

“GUYS!” Danny yelled.

Sam and Tucker paused in their bickering, looking at Danny’s glowing green eyes. 

“Can you explain the ghost hunters thing?”

“Oh. Right.” Sam says. “Well, they’ve been studying ectology since they were in college, they even tried to create a ghost portal but it was unsuccessful. Lately they’ve been working on a newer model and an arsenal of ghost hunting weapons, but they haven’t had the chance to really test them yet.” She pulls a flyer out of her backpack. 

“They do presentations at the library every week.”

Danny looks at the paper for a few moments before resting his face in his hands. 

“Why would you want to give them a chance to test their weapons? Wouldn’t they be gung ho at any opportunity?”

“Not necessarily!” Sam said rushedly. “They only just moved here a couple months ago but they’re very nice, though a little over the top. They have two daughters too. They should be able to realize that you’re just a kid that needs help.” 

Danny raised his head back up and leveled a stare at her. 

“When's the next meeting?” He asked. 

“Tomorrow at noon.”

He leaned back in his seat, head tilted against the back, and groaned. “Ugh. I guess we really have no other option.” Tucker swiped a fry from Danny’s tray. “Don’t worry man. If they try anything, they’ll probably be stopped by Jazz. She doesn’t believe in the whole ghost schtick.”

“Jazz?” Danny asked as he picked up his burger. 

“That’s the oldest Fenton daughter. They also have a daughter named Elle. She sort of looks like you, actually.” Sam said. 

“Yeah. She’s a feisty little gremlin. Always beating my high scores when we go to the arcade.” Tucker pouted. 

Sam looked at her watch, checking the time. “Well guys, I think we better get going. It’s getting pretty late. Don’t wanna miss the presentation tomorrow.” She jittered excitedly in her seat. “I can’t wait to tell them I opened a ghost portal!”

“Are you into all their ecto, ghost hunting stuff?” Danny asked wryly. 

“Not really. I’m more into witchcraft and goth stuff. Ghosts just happened to fall in between those somewhere.” Sam stood up and collected her trash. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. I’ll meet you at Tucker’s house.”

She waved goodbye and left the restaurant. 

“So…” Tucker started. “Do you wanna go back to my place and play some video games?”

“Video games?” Danny asked. 

Tucker clutched his chest in mock horror. “You don’t remember video games?! Forget sleep, there’s much you need to see!”

And with that, Tucker jumped up and dragged Danny out the door by the wrist. 

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

Danny walked out the front door of Tucker’s house, yawning. When he blinked open his eyes he could see Sam standing there, tapping her foot. 

“What? I haven’t weighed this much in a year. Walking around was tiring.” Danny told her.

“We also played video games until three in the morning.” Tucker yawned as he walked out behind him.

“Why would you tell her that?” Danny asked, turning around. 

“To make her mad?” Tucker shrugged. 

Sam sighed. “Whatever guys. Let’s just get going. They’re starting soon.”

They walked down the street in silence until Danny spoke. 

“How many people usually go to these things? Is there a lot?”

“No.” Sam said. “Usually it’s just me. And Tucker when I can get him to go.”

Tucker groans. “I just hope Mr. Fenton doesn’t get into telling His Life Story: Volume Two. It was so boring the last time.”

“What do we do if they won’t help us?” Danny asked.

Sam and Tucker looked at each other in silence. Sam took a deep breath and spoke. “I’m sure they’ll help us. They’re nice people.”

Soon they walked inside the library, the building quiet except for the few hushed voices reading children's books and the boisterous laughter that could be heard coming from Mr. Fenton across the building. When Danny heard it, he paused, hands clenched into fists. 

“What if they hate me? What if they won’t help us? I’ll just be stuck here, alive and homeless. What if they strap me down on some table, tearing me apart molecule by molecule?”

Sam turned to face Danny, walking towards him and resting her hands on his shoulders. “They probably won’t be able to tell anyways. It’ll be alright. We’ll go in and wait until the meeting is over and then go talk to them.”

Danny’s shoulders shook, and he took a deep breath and nodded. 

Together, the three of them walked to the presentation room. 

“Just remember, stay calm. It’ll be-”

A clatter resounded through the room as they crossed through the door.

“Danno?”

Mr. Fenton was standing in front of the projector screen, an ectogun laying on the floor at his feet. His eyes were wide and haunted, looking straight at Danny.

Looking behind him, Danny wore a confused expression on his face.

“Me?” He said, pointing at himself. 

The older man nodded. “But how are you… You… This can’t be possible.” He looked Danny over again and then his gaze traveled to Sam. “Ms. Manson, what..?”

“Do you know Danny, Mr. Fenton?” Sam asked softly, confused. 

“He’s my son.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open and she looked at Tucker who was leaning up against the door frame, staring blankly at the floor. Danny still looked confused, but a chirpy voice soon interrupted them. 

“Jack, sweetie, the staff room ran out of sugar again but I think your coffee should be fine with only four packets.” 

The three kids turned around to see Mrs. Fenton standing behind them, two coffee cups in her hands. She smiled at them until her gaze landed on Danny. Her expression soured and she dropped the coffees, pulling out an ectogun from her suit pointing it at Danny.

“What is this ectoplasmic scum doing here impersonating our boy?!”

“Wait!” Sam shouted, putting herself between the barrel of Mrs. Fenton’s gun and Danny. “He has a pulse!” “That’s impossible.” Mrs. Fenton scoffed. “Our son passed a year ago. That’s just a form of post human consciousness.”

“No, please!” Sam reached behind her, searching for Danny’s hand. Once she found it, he grabbed it in a death grip, she pulled it forward, opening up his wrist for the woman. “Please, trust me.”

Mrs. Fenton threw another sour look towards Sam, but obliged the girl. She placed her fingers over Danny’s wrist and waited. Once she felt the fast pulse underneath his skin, her eyes widened and shock flashed across her face. 

Dropping his wrist, she stepped back, nearly collapsing until Tucker caught her. 

“What is this?” Maddie whispered. “What happened?”

Sam moved to sit down at one of the chairs in the room, still holding Danny’s hand and pulling him behind her. “Yesterday had the perfect atmosphere and phenomenon to create a natural ghost portal and after one of your presentations I wanted to try, because who knew when I’d get a better chance.

“When we finished the ritual a swirling green portal formed and he fell out like this but…”

“He has two forms.” Tucker continued. “And he can still do ghost stuff. But he can feel hunger and gravity and he produces heat. Has a pulse. But he doesn’t seem to remember anything.”

“We came to talk to you guys because we didn’t know what to do… Like, what are we gonna do with someone with no identification who’s supposed to be dead?” Sam asked. 

Mr. Fenton knelt down in front of Danny, touseling the boy's hair, and rested his hands on his shoulders. 

“Do you want to come back home with us? Do you trust us?”

Danny’s grip was still tight on Sam’s hand, and he looked from Mr. Fenton to Mrs. Fenton, who had tears in her eyes and her own tight grip on Tucker’s hand. He nodded.

Mr. Fenton’s own eyes filled with tears and he wrapped Danny up in a bear hug, squeezing the life right back out of him. Slowly, Danny lifted his own arms up around the man, feeling his own tears running down his face. 

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

One Month Later

“Haha! Beat you again!” Elle laughed.

“Man, you really are a little gremlin, aren’t you?” Danny shot back at her, throwing a pillow in her face. 

“Excuse you, I’m adorable.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

He clicked on the New Round option in the game, going through the fighters and picking the same character as he did for the last fight.

A small frown formed on Elle’s face. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything?”

“Yeah, pretty sure. Why do you ask?” He shot her a look before the round started. 

“You keep picking the same character that had been your favorite before…”

Elle trailed off and when Danny turned to look at her there were tears in her eyes. 

“No, no don’t cry, Elle. It’s alright. I’m here now. That’s pretty cool, isn’t it?”

She sniffed and rubbed some tears off her face. “Yeah. It’s the only thing I could’ve asked for.” She paused. “Do you think you’ll ever remember?”

Danny looked down at his hands. “I’m not sure. But even if I don’t I’ll still be here for you whenever you need it, okay?”

Elle smiled. “Okay.”

Danny’s phone chirped and he pulled it out from his pocket. 

“Oh, that’s Sam. We’re supposed to go see that new movie with Tucker. Rematch when I get home?”

“Can it be called a rematch if I know you’re gonna lose again?”

“You wish!” He pulled her into a side hug. “See you when I get home?”

“Yeah. See you!” She waved him off.

Danny ran down the stairs and was about to bolt out the door to greet his friends when Jazz stopped him. 

“Where are you going, little brother?” She asked.

Danny rolled his eyes at the name. “Just to see a movie with Sam and Tucker. I’ll be back in a couple hours, okay?”

Jazz nodded and walked over to him. “Can I have a hug before you leave?”

Danny opened his arms and she pulled him into a tight hug. 

“Stay safe.” She whispered.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the power of ghost muscles now.”

Jazz snorted and pushed Danny towards the door. “Okay. Off you go.” 

He opened the door to see Sam and Tucker standing outside it. When Sam looked up, she elbowed Tucker in the side and pointed past Danny at Jazz. 

“Pft, I’ve been practicing. This’ll be no biggie.”

Clearing his throat, Tucker caught Jazz’s attention. 

“Do you like dates? How do you feel about a raisin?” He shot a pair of finger guns at her. 

Jazz tsked and smiled at Tucker. “Dates are very tasty, and a raisin would be a delicious treat!”

Confusion crossed over Tucker’s face before horror broke across it. Sam broke out laughing beside him. 

“Better luck next time, Tucker.” Jazz said before walking back to the kitchen.

Tucker kneeled onto the ground, holding his face in his hands. “The shame. I’ve taken the honor from my family's name. I’ve embarrassed myself for the last time.”

“As if.” Sam snorted. 

“Hey!” Tucker shouted at her.

Danny chuckled and shook his head at his friend's antics. 

“Come on, guys. Let’s go see this movie.”

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #sam manson #tucker foley #fanfic #fanfiction #phic phight #phic phight 2020 #team ghost

[kinglazrus]

Smells Like Team Spirit

Phic phight 2020

Submitted by @phantomphangphucker: Danny Fenton seeming creepy, unnatural, predatory, etcetera to the general population of Amity Park. Or only seeming creepy, unnatural, predatory, etcetera to tourists, while Amity Park locals are confused by anyone finding Fenton ‘creepy/intimidating’.

Summary: Some mascots are great at pumping up a crowd. As Casper High's mascot, Danny has only one job: strike fear into the hearts of their opponents. This is the story of how Danny becomes the famed Mascot of Fear.

Word count: 9268

Tucker witnesses it first. His cousin from another state is visiting for the weekend and Danny comes over to hang out. Ozzy has met Danny before, a few times, so Tucker thinks they won't mind if Danny joins them for a little while. He arrives while Ozzy is in the bathroom, and Tucker gets a three-player game of the new Doomed: IV console game set up.

Danny lounges on a beanbag chair, leaving the couch to the Foley cousins. Clutching his controller, he plays with the controls, watching his character jump, roll, punch, and shoot, trying to get a feel for the different set up.

"I think they took out the high jump," Danny says. He spams the jump button while tapping various others across the controller, testing different combos.

"What?" Tucker lunges for the game case, taking out the pamphlet tucked inside the cover. He flips through, looking for the controls.

"Yeah, it doesn't seem to­—oh damn that's fun."

"What? What?" Tucker scrambles up, throwing the pamphlet aside, and watches Danny's avatar leap into the air, then sprint forward.

"Air-dashing," Danny says with a grin.

"Sweet." The boys bump fists.

Danny, kneeling on his beanbag, keeps air-dashing across the screen, whipping the controller back and forth emphatically. The action does nothing to improve the gameplay, but at the same time, it just wouldn't be as enjoyable without it. Tucker lays upside down on the couch, hands braced on the floor, cheering Danny on. "Go, go, go!"

It's stupid and fun. They haven't even started playing the game yet, but this is the most they'll enjoy themselves all afternoon. And that's the scene Ozzy walks in on.

They remember Tucker's best friend, although they hadn't seen him since coming out. Ozzy's not sure what to expect from him, but it certainly isn't this. And by this they don't mean the raw enthusiasm for a simple game mechanic. They mean the shiver that crawls up their spine the second they lay eyes on Danny. They feel cold, like they've stepped in a bath of ice-water rather than their cousin's living room.

Danny turns his head toward Tucker and sees Ozzy standing in the doorway. Both of them freeze. Ozzy's heart beats fast and heavy in their chest. Their pupils dilate, stretching wide, and sweat beads on their forehead. They can't look away. If they do, then they're dead. If they let Danny out of their sight, they're dead.

Danny gaze slides away, back to the TV, and Ozzy can breathe again.

"Ozzy's here," Danny says.

"Oh!" Tucker's head swivels toward them. He hadn't noticed Ozzy and Danny's little staring contest. It had only lasted a second, but to Ozzy, it felt like an hour.

"Check it out!" Tucker says. He kicks off the back of the couch, flipping forward. His knees hit the carpet hard, making a loud thud, which earns him a shout from the dining room.

"Don't bother the neighbours!" Tucker's mom, Angela, says.

"Okay, Mom!" Tucker calls back, without much conviction in his voice. He beckons Ozzy forward and points to the TV. "They replaced the double jump with air-dashing! Which seems stupid at first, 'cause jumping forward isn't the same as jumping higher. But it looks like if you air-dash into something, you can climb up it!"

Tucker talks fast, making lots of vague gestures with his hands, not really looking at Ozzy. He grabs his own controller off the couch and swivels toward his cousin. "Here's how you do it."

Tucker looks up at Ozzy and pauses. "Hey," he says, tilting his head. "You okay?"

Ozzy is not okay, but they can't really explain it. Danny glances there way again, just for a second, and a shudder passes through them. Something about Danny is off, but Ozzy can't really explain it. He looks the exact same as he did the last time Ozzy saw him, even wearing the same damn t-shirt. But when Ozzy looks at him, and Danny looks back, their brain starts screaming not right, not right, NOT RIGHT!

"I'm, uh, I'm good, yeah," Ozzy says. They shuffle into the room, casting nervous glances Danny's way, and sit down on the couch, taking the farthest spot from Danny. Ozzy leans up against the armrest, taking the controller Tucker passes them, and looks forward. They think that, maybe, if they look ahead instead, if they just don't look at Danny, they won't feel so weird, and whatever this is will pass.

But oh, god, this is so much worse, because now they can't see Danny, and that makes their heart pound. An image of Danny suddenly lunging from his seat bursts into their mind and Ozzy stiffens. Hands tightening around the controller, they glance out of the corner of their eye.

Danny hasn't moved. Danny isn't even looking at them. It doesn't make them feel better.

"Seriously, are you good?" Tucker asks. He sits down to Ozzy's left, blocking their view of Danny.

"Let's just play," Ozzy says.

Tucker shrugs and starts the game. As they play, he keeps looking over at Ozzy, wondering why they're acting so strange. They were just fine half an hour ago, but now they're stiff, and kind of pale, and they keep looking away from the screen, even when they're in the middle of a fight. Ozzy's always been better than Tucker at Doomed, but today they're at the bottom of the scoreboard.

Tucker racks his brain, trying to come up with a reason for the strange behaviour. A bad phone call, maybe? Ozzy's mom has been in and out of the hospital for a while. He hopes it's not that. He wants to ask them what's wrong, but he doesn't want to push it. And they might not be comfortable talking about it with Danny there, either. So, Tucker decides to wait until they're alone.

His chance comes sooner than expected, when Danny says he has to go.

"Aw, really?" Tucker asks. He droops, shoulders slumping. "You've only been here an hour."

"Yeah." Danny nods. "I just remembered that physics assignment. I haven't finished yet."

"I thought you finished that?"

"Uh, so did I. But Jazz just texted me. She found the sheet and apparently, I left a few questions blank. I should go home and finish before she really gets on my case." Danny stands up and stretches his arms above his head. "Sorry. We can make up for it next time."

Before Tucker can protest further, Danny leaves, casting one last furtive glance in Ozzy's direction. Ozzy doesn't relax until they hear the front door close.

"What did he even check his phone?" Tucker mutters. Thinking back, he can't even remember Danny looking down at his pocket. It bothers him, but he knows Danny wouldn't lie without a good reason, so he'll leave it for now.

He pounces on Ozzy instead

"What's wrong?" Tucker asks.

"Nothing's wrong."

"You're a worse liar than Danny. Is it... is it your mom?"

"What? No." Ozzy shakes their head. "Mom's fine. She's doing really good, actually."

"But there is something wrong," Tucker presses.

Ozzy groans. They reach up to run their fingers through their hair, faltering when they touch their shoulder instead. Moving their hand up, they touched their buzzed head. "I don't know. Danny, he–" Ozzy cuts themself off.

"Danny? What'd he do? Did he say something while I wasn't looking? I'll kick his ass," Tucker says, leaping to his feet.

"No, don't!" Ozzy grabs Tucker's belt and yanks him back down. "It's nothing, okay? He didn’t do anything. It's stupid."

Tucker stares intently at them, then sighs and backs off. "Okay. It's okay if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. But if you do want to talk about whatever it is, I'm right here."

"Yeah, okay," Ozzy says.

—

Valerie sees it next. She invites Danny over for a study session at her new place in Elmerton. People say Elmerton is a neighbourhood at the edge of Amity Park, but as someone who now lives there, Valerie knows it's its own town. The people in Elmerton aren't like the people Amity. They don't have the same mannerisms. They don't have the same slang. They don't even have the same ghosts.

In fact, Elmerton has no ghosts. Which makes it a pretty poor place for a ghost hunter to live, but the apartments are cheap, and it's all her dad can afford right now.

They take the bus after school. It's an inter-city bus, because none of the school buses go out that far. The ride is more than hour. Plenty of people get on and off the bus in that time. Valerie likes to watch them. She can tell exactly when the last person from Amity Park steps off.

Valerie doesn't know how she could explain it to an outsider, but people from Amity can recognize each other at a moment's glance. It's something about the way they hold themselves, how they react to things. When your life gets threatened every day by ghosts from another realm, you look at things a little differently. It's like one day everyone from Amity Park collectively decided to stop giving a damn about anything that didn't immediately threaten to kill them.

"Huh," Valerie says as she looks over the bus. She and Danny sit at the very back, in Valerie's usual seat. After her first few times taking the bus, she learned it was just polite to sit further back when you had a longer ride. It also gives her a good view of the whole bus.

"What is it?" Danny asks, looking away from the window. So far, he has been spending most of the ride staring out at the passing scenery, watching as things got dirtier and poor run down the closer they got to Elmerton.

Instead of answering, Valerie leans over Danny.

"Hey!" He presses himself back against his seat, raising his arms, a scarlet blush creeping across his cheeks.

Valerie ignores him in favour of scanning the skies. "You don't see any ghosts or anything, do you?"

"What? No. Why? Why would there be a ghost here? I mean, it's Elmerton, right?" Danny says. He laughs and looks away, tugging the collar of his shirt. Is it just him or is it a little hot in here all of a sudden?

"Yeah, I guess so," Valerie says, pulling back. Her frown stays settled on her face.

There are only a few people on the bus with them, besides the driver. At the very front, a woman with weathered skin and greying hair, who got on at the last stop. Even though the bus is already moving again, she still hasn't taken her seat. Instead, she stands straight, facing the back of the bus.

By the middle doors is a young woman and teenage girl, their backs to Valerie and Danny. The woman has her arm around the girl's shoulder. Every once in a while, she cranes her neck and looks in their direction.

A man in a rumpled suit sits closest to them. Valerie sees him on the bus every day. They've chatted a few times, and he's nice enough. They usually say hi to each other. Today, he had started down the aisle toward them, giving a cheery wave. But the moment his gaze slipped from Valerie to Danny, he paled, dropping into the nearest seat. He clutches his briefcase tightly, holding it like a shield.

Valerie knows instantly that none of these people are from Amity Park because they all look afraid and she has no idea why. She stares at them a moment longer, glaring at the young woman when she peeks over her shoulder again.

It takes Valerie a minute to realize it, but she finally notices the one thing all of them are doing.

"Are they... staring at you?" Valerie whispers to Danny.

He shifts uncomfortably, tucking his hands under his arms, and leans his head against hers to whisper back. "Yeah."

"Why?"

Danny shrugs. "It's just a thing people do sometimes."

"People sometimes stare at you like you're about to, I don't know, pounce on them?"

Danny shrugs again.

"That's... really weird."

"Maybe they've heard of my parents," he says, grinning sardonically.

Valerie rolls her eyes and pushes his shoulder. He laughs, and Valerie does her best to ignore the tense atmosphere for the rest of the ride. She ignores it, but she doesn't forget it.

—

Valerie finds Tucker in the gym sound booth after school one day and corners him there. She locks the door behind her and pins him against the sound board. "What's up with Danny?" she asks accusingly.

Both Tucker and Sam have the annoying habit of dancing around Valerie's words whenever she tries to approach them cautiously. She's learned, from experience, that being direct and forceful is the only way to get information out of them. Getting Tucker alone with no back up also helps.

"I don't know! He's not a ghost!" Tucker blurts out, raising his arms defensively.

"What?"

"I mean, nothing. Nothing's up with Danny. He's so great. You know how great he is. You dated him for a little bit, luck you."

Valerie stares at him, wondering for a moment if this is Tucker's way of confessing that he has a crush on his best friend. She shakes her head, casting that thought aside for now. Grabbing Tucker's collar, she pulls him forward until they're nose to nose.

"You mean you've never seen how odd people get around him?"

"What, no?" Tucker's genuinely confused by the question. His face screws up as he thinks, trying to figure out what the hell Valerie is talking about. He needs to tread lightly, so he doesn't accidentally spill Danny's secret. He doesn't think she knows, despite how weird her question is.

"Just think about it for a minute, okay?" Valerie says. She releases Tucker and steps back, crossing her arms.

Tucker composes himself, smoothing out his shirt, and gives her a dirty look. He decides to indulge her anyway. With a great, dramatic sigh, Tucker taps his chin, looking up at the ceiling, then down at the floor. He hums and haws, making a great show of how terrible and strenuous thinking about this is, and then he shrugs.

"Nope, can't say I know what you mean." Brushing past Valerie, he heads for the door.

She reaches out and grabs his collar again, yanking him back.

"Come on, you're gonna stretch it!" Tucker whines, batting Valerie's hand off.

"I'm being serious here, Tucker. You've never seen anyone looking, I don't know, afraid of Danny? Kind of wary?"

"Afraid? Of Danny? You can't be serious, he's not–" Tucker freezes.

"What is it?" Valerie reaches out for him again.

Tucker smacks her hands away and skips out of her reach. "A couple months ago. I had my cousin over, and Danny hung out with us for a bit. They were acting really weird. I thought it was about their mom. And then I thought it was because they weren't out the last time they saw Danny, but they said it wasn't either of those and told me to drop it."

"Danny came over to my place to work on our history project last week. On the bus, people wouldn't stop looking at him. He brushed it off, but that's weird, right?" Valerie asks. "They looked like... like they were afraid."

Tucker laughs. "So weird. Can you imagine people being scared of Danny?"

It's the most ridiculous thing either of them has heard all year. They break down into a fit of laughter, falling against each other. It's so outlandish and absurd that you couldn't make it up if you tried.

Which is why Star, who has her ear pressed against the sound booth door, grins and takes off the moment the conversation dissolves into laughter. She has only one thought in mind: Paulina has got to hear about this.

—

"No way."

"Yeah."

"No. Way."

"Yeah!" Star nods enthusiastically. "I swear that's what they said."

"Afraid of Fenton?" Paulina asks. Star's already said it three times, but it's so unbelievable she has to hear it again.

"Afraid of Fenton," Star repeats. "Foley's cousin and some," she waves her had dismissively, "Elmertonites."

"Ugh, Elmerton."

"I know."

"Who's Foley's cousin?" Paulina asks. She can't remember if Foley has any other family in the city, but Star would. Star's the only person who knows this town, and it's people, better than Paulina. They are the gossip queens and they make everybody's business their own. Knowing a little extra something about a certain somebody could always come in handy somewhere down the line.

"An out-of-towner," Star says.

"Interesting." Paulina closes her locker and leans against. She waves at a few boys walking by, giving them a disarming smile. They crane their necks around to keep looking at her for as long as they can. As soon as they're around the corner, Paulina's smile drops and she turns back to Star. "You know, I think now's a great time for my friend from New York to come visit!"

Star grins. "Oh, great idea, Paulie. Amity is so great this time of year."

They walk down the hall, arm in arm, giggling and conspiring.

—

Everyone knows about Paulina's New York friend. Theirs is a friendship built not out of love but a mutual desire to constantly get one up on each other. Which means they aren't friends at all. But, their dads are business partners, so the two girls often find themselves forced together. These occasions are typically full of sweet smiles and sweeter words. Which everyone knows is a clever rich girls choice weapon in any circumstance.

When Paulina invites Whitney van der Bloom to Amity Park for the weekend, Whitney answers with a cheerful, "Sweetie, do you even need to ask?"

Which really means, "Sweetie, why on Earth would I want to go?" Sweetie, in both cases, is not a complement.

Whitney goes, of course. With a slew of backhanded complements tucked in her pocket. The battle begins the moment her plane touches down and she is determined to come out of this weekend as the undisputed victor. Paulina may have a home advantage, but Whitney was born into this kind of conflict. New money always flounders around a bit before learning how to properly navigate the delicate social rules of high society, and she can tell Paulina is still getting her sea legs.

Whitney finds it adorable, like watching a baby toddle through their first steps.

On her walk through the airport, Whitney touches as little as possible. She left New York in a private plane, from a private airstrip, where every surface was clean and shiny. Amity Park was neither of those things.

By the main entrance, she finds Paulina's driver holding a sign with Whitney's name on it. She passes him her luggage, a single Gucci bag, and follows him outside to the waiting car. She's impressed by Paulina's power play, although she would never say it out loud. Staying in the car while sending her driver out to collect Whitney, like a nanny picking up a child from daycare, is a bold move.

It's fine. Whitney will let her have the lead, for now. She won't have it for long.

The driver opens the back door. Whitney slides inside like she owns the car, tossing her hair over her shoulder, giving the driver a sugary smile. When she turns and gets her first good look at the inside, she freezes.

Rather than sitting on the other side of the car, at a respectful distance, Paulina is right beside her in the middle seat. And there are four other people with her. Paulina's little satellite—Whitney thinks her name is Sun—sits to her left. And across from them are two boys she doesn't know—and doesn't want to, based on how they're dressed—plus a girl she does know.

"Sammy?" Whitney asks, looking across the car at the Sam Manson, heir to the Manson fortune.

"Bloom," Sam greets her coolly. Sam doesn't even twitch at the nickname she loathes. Because that would be a sign of weakness, and she knows that if there's one thing you never want to do, it's look weak in front of Whitney van der Bloom. The girl may only be fifteen but she's a menace.

"Hi." Whitney drags out the "i," her voice rising and falling. "Oh. My. God. I haven't seen you since the Cabo retreat! What are the chances of seeing you here?"

Sam grins wickedly. "Pretty high, actually."

"Oh?" Witney doesn't have a response for that. Sam has always thrown her off, purely because she refuses to play the same games Whitney and Paulina do. It's infuriating.

She turns to the two strangers instead, looking them up and down. The boy on Sam's right makes her cringe. A turtleneck and cargo pants? Whitney would give him points for boldness if the colours weren't so garish. When she meets his eyes, he wiggles his eyebrows at her.

Whitney immediately decides she wants nothing to do with him.

The other boy, sitting right across from her, isn't much better. Worn out jeans that are actually worn out and weren't just made to be like that, and a ratty old t-shirt with a flaming green "F" on it. Gross. Resisting the urge to curl her lip, she lifts her eyes to his face.

He's not looking at her. He's looking down and away, his stare so intense it should be burning a hole in the carpet. Little does she know, it could, with very little effort on his part.

Normally, Whitney takes that kind of gesture as a sign of submission. Instant victory. Right now, something about this boy makes her think she doesn't want his eyes on her.

"Whit! I'm so happy you could come!" Paulina throws her arms around Whitney's shoulders and pulls her in for a hug, kissing Whitney's cheeks twice.

Whitney snaps out of her daze, although not fast enough to return the kisses. Another victory for Paulina.

"Of course, Lina!" Whitney says. She sees the boy in the turtleneck mouth "Lina" at Sam. She wonders what their relationship is. "There's no way I would pass up the chance to visit somewhere as quaint as Amity Park. It's nice to get a break from the lavish lifestyle, you know?"

"Oh, I know. You look like you need a nice rest." Paulina smiles widely.

Whitney's eye twitches. "So, Lina, who are your friends?"

"Well, you already know Sam. I didn't realize you ran in such high circles,"  Paulina said, earning another twitch. Before she can say anything back, Paulina moves on. "And these two are her friends. Tucker." The boy in the turtleneck, "and Danny." The boy that Whitney does not want to look at her.

Paulina leans forward and grabs Danny's arm, pulling him right out of his seat. He yelps and stumbles, bumping his head on the top of the car. Tucker reaches out to stop him, but Sam holds her arm out and keeps him back, wearing that same fiendish smirk. Before Whitney can figure out what's happening, Star's moved to take Danny's place, and Paulina has slid over to the other side of the car. She drags Danny down and sits him right next to Whitney.

"Danny's such a good friend, I can't believe I haven't introduced you to him sooner," Paulina says. She's still hugging his arm, pushing him forward a little more so Whitney has no choice but to squeeze up against the door to avoid touching him.

She doesn't want to touch him. She doesn't want to be next to him. She doesn't even want to be in the same car as him. Whitney unconsciously reaches for the door handle, but the car's already moving. She's trapped.

"Don't be rude, Danny. Say hi to Whitney," Sam says. She looks like the cat that ate the canary. And Whitney feels like the bird.

Danny gives Sam a disgruntled look before turning to Whitney. "Uh, hey, Whitney," he says.

Whitney tenses. The sound of his voice sends shivers down her spine. It washes over her, raising goosebumps along her arms. The cold certainly doesn't help. She thinks it's the AC in the car, until Danny's arm brushes against hers and she flinches away. His skin is icy to the touch.

"Sorry," Danny mutters. He finally looks at her.

Whitney wilts under his stare. Looking into his eyes is like looking into an endless expanse. Her own gaze jumps around, searching, but Danny's holds steady. Not even a twitch. Whitney's not even sure if he's blinked since she got in the car. When he looks away, his eyes slide off her.

"You– you're very," she stammers. For once, her words are lost to her.

Paulina's smile is bright as the sun. She leans back, giving Danny the space to do the same, and Whitney quickly tries to compose herself. She steadies her breathing, checking the other occupants of the car to see how they reacted. Tucker looks curious. Sam looks smug. Star looks delightfully vapid, eyes wide and smile wider.

"They're going to be with us all day, I hope you don't mine," Paulina says. "Danny knows the city really well, and Sam. Well, like I said. She's a Manson."

Whitney, still at a loss for words, nods numbly.

"This will be so much fun!" Star says, clapping her hands together.

Whitney doesn't think so.

—

Whitney lasts for four hours, which is far longer than anyone expected.

"I'm almost impressed," Star says, waving at Whitney's private jet as it takes off. "She's very good at faking important phone calls."

"Just never tell her that to her face," Paulina says. Hand on her hip, she eyes Sam, Tucker, and Danny. "I guess we can give you all rides home. But I hope you know this was a one-time thing. Mostly because Whitney probably won't come back after that."

"Uh." Danny raises his hand. "How do you know the phone call wasn't important? Why won't she be back? She's your friend, isn't she?"

"Oh, Danny. You're so sweet, you know that?" Paulina pats his cheek and pivots. Swaying her hips, she starts walking back toward the car. It's not even an insult this time.

"Thank you? I guess?" Danny says.

"Come on, Fenton. I might even help you with your math for what you did today." Star grabs his wrist and drags him after Paulina.

"I didn't do anything!"

Sam and Tucker linger a moment longer, watching Whitney's plane disappear into the sky. Tucker turns to Sam and says, "I'm so confused. Why did you even agree to this?"

Sam shrugs. "Whitney van der Bloom sucks."

"Yeah. Yeah, she does."

—

Paulina and Star eagerly spread the word: Danny Fenton scares outsiders. The rumour spreads quickly throughout Casper High, although everyone is careful never to mention it while Danny himself is around. Not even Sam and Tucker tell him. It's one of those rumours you don't want getting back to the person it's about. Not because it's bad, but because it's a hell of a lot more fun when they don’t know.

Nobody really gets the "why," except those who know Danny best. To everyone else, he's a scrawny kid with eccentric parents, and he wouldn't hurt a fly. Most of them decide outsiders are just weird like that and put it out of mind. But Mikey, clever kid that he is, decides to put Danny's mysterious ability to work.

"I'll help you with your physics homework if you cheer us on at the decathlon," Mikey says. He leans across the aisle between their desk, whispering low enough that the teacher won't hear them.

"You do sports?" Danny asks, raising on eyebrow.

"No, it's academic. Don't be ridiculous."

On the edge of his seat, Mikey waits for Danny's reply. The decathlon is tomorrow, which may have been short notice, but Mikey isn't a fool. He knows academics bore the hell out of Danny and the only way he will go is with incentive. Mikey waited until they got their most recent test back. Peeking at Danny's paper, he can see his classmate failed, which is good news for him.

One decathlon is a small price to pay for a passing grade.

Danny looks down at the big red F on his test. He whispers back, "Sure. When is it? Do people have to dress nice for these things?"

"Tomorrow. And," Mikey pauses a moment to consider, "yes. I mean, no. Not nice, but there's this thing we do. It's okay, I'll have you covered. Just wear what you usually do."

Danny looks uncertain, but Mikey knows he'll accept. He gave Danny no other choice.

—

Mikey tries to gauge Danny's reaction when he passes over the hoodie. It's ten minutes to the start of the competition. They're backstage getting ready for the judge to call them out. At the moment, they're separated from the other team, but there's no rule against some friendly banter before things get going, so Mikey has a plan. A plan that needs Danny to wear this hoodie.

Danny holds it up, frowning at the design on the front. A fierce raven with bright green eyes carrying a bloodied snake in its beak; they're competing with Silver Valley today whose mascot is a snake. He picks up the hood, inspecting the mask sewn into it. It's a simple black masquerade mask with a long, beak-like nose.

"And this is... standard?" Danny asks, lowering the hoodie so he can look Mikey in the eyes.

Mikey nods emphatically. "Yeah. I know decathlons don't seem exciting, but we get really into it. Lots of people do this."

"And you just had a hoodie with this exact picture lying around?" Danny turns the hoodie around, displaying the graphic image on the front.

"Yeah. Lester wore it last time. He's let me borrow it for you today," Mikey lies. It actually cost him thirty bucks to get custom made, but the mask was cheap. Besides, the competition today has a cash prize, which will more than make up for it when his team wins.

"If you say so," Danny says. He shucks off his button up and pulls the hoodie on instead, pushing the hood down to rest at the back of his neck.

Mikey immediately pulls it back up and lowers the mask over Danny's eyes. "It's part of the school spirit," Mikey says.

"Riiight." Danny adjusts the mask, but he doesn't take it down. "Shouldn't I be sitting in the audience?"

"You will. But I wanted to introduce you to the other team first. It's a sportsmanship thing," Mikey explains. He beckons Danny forward, leading him down a long hall behind the stage. As the hall opens up into the wings of the stage, the other team comes into view.

Like Mikey and the other decathlon members, they wear matching jackets. Although where Casper's jackets are red, Silver Valley wears grey.

Danny stops just before stepping into their line of sight. "Mikey," he hisses. "I don't see anyone dressed like a snake over here."

"Just trust me. You want that physics help, right?" Mikey only feels a little guilty about tricking Danny like this. Mikey's not actually hurting him, and they aren't breaking any competition rules, so it's fine.

Danny shuffles his feet, giving the other team a solid once through, and nods.

"Hi, everyone!" Mikey says, drawing the team's attention. "We just wanted to come over and wish you good luck! Friendly competition and all that."

Watching them closely, Mikey catches the exact moment they lay eyes on Danny, and it is so much better than he could have hoped. The whole team freezes. Mikey can see their eyes dilating, like they've been shot with a burst of adrenaline, a little kick-starter in their fight-or-flight response. Judging by the way a few of them shuffle back, they're leaning toward flight.

Mikey revels in the fear in their eyes. "Good luck!" he says.

"Yeah." Mikey turns at Danny's voice. For a second, he thinks he sees something in Danny's eyes, something swirling and green. But in a blink, it's gone. Danny smiles brightly, but with the mask it looks downright villainous. "Good luck. I think you'll need it."

The Silver Valley team pales. Casper High wins by a landslide that day.

—

The story of Casper High's raven boy spreads from Silver Valley out to other schools. Most of them think it's just a rumour, but enough people pass it along that it eventually works its way back to Casper and into the ears of one Dash Baxter. Dash, being the proud jock he is, can't let himself be one-upped by a nerd.

"Hey, Fenton!" he calls out to Danny at lunch hour. Shoving his way between Sam and Tucker, Dash slams his hands down on the table. Danny flinches. "Relax, I'm not here to wail on you. For once."

Sam shoves Dash's hand off the table. "Great, then get the hell out of here," she says.

"Shut up, Manson. I ain't talking to you." Dash sneers. He turns his focus back to Danny. "I got a proposition for you."

"I can't believe he knows the word proposition," Tucker whispers.

"I said shut it!" Dash raises his hand to smack Foley upside the head. Halfway through the swing, Danny lurches forward and snatches Dash's wrist.

"Dash, if you want to make a deal or something, I don't think hitting my best friend is the right way to start," Danny says.

Dash scowls at him. He jerks his hand out of Danny's grip and steps back, rubbing his wrist. He won't say it out loud, but Danny's got a pretty good grip. "Yeah, whatever. He's not worth it anyway."

"Dash."

People are staring at them now. Most of them looking for a show Dash isn't going to give, at least not today. Eager to get this over with fast, Dash leans over until he's so close there's no way anyone could overhear them.

"Listen. You do one thing for me, and maybe I won't wail on you for a week," he says.

Danny shoots him a deadpan stare. "Maybe?"

"Fine," Dash relents. "I definitely won't."

"What do I have to do?"

"Come to our next football game."

"I'm sorry?"

"Are you deaf, Fenton? Come. To. The. Game." Dash enunciates carefully, slapping his palms down with each word, leaning closer in. Danny reels back so far that he has to grab the table to keep from slipping off the bench. "And wear the sweater."

Dash saunters away before Danny has a chance to respond. The prying eyes turn away then, more than a few disappointed by the turn of events. Danny ignores them in favour of turning to his friends.

"Do you guys know what sweater he's talking about?" he asks.

"Probably the one Mikey had you wear," Tucker says. "Because it's so s–" Sam kicks him under the table. "–exy! It's uh... it's a sexy sweater."

"Oh, my god." Sam drops her face into her hands.

—

Danny doesn't know it's not standard practice to shake hands with the opposing team's quarterback, and their backup quarterback, and their backup backup quarter back before a football game. But he is pretty sure it's weird for him, a random student, to be doing it instead of someone from the actual team.

"Just stand in front of 'em until they shake your hand, that's it," Dash says, shoving Danny toward the Waterford Heights Weasels. He waves impatiently, motioning Danny forward. Dash personally doesn't see what's so scary about the getup. A sweat with a bird and a mask, big whoop. But he's willing to try it, anyway.

"Think it'll work?" Kwan asks. They stand side-by-side, arms crossed, elbows brushing. The rest of the team mills about behind them, some of them spying on Fenton, others getting in the right headspace for the game. It's only a couple minutes to kickoff.

Dash shrugs. "Worth a shot."

It's a great night for a game. The sky is clear. It's not too chilly. There's still an hour before the sun will set. It means they'll have the light in their eyes for half the game, but if this works, that won't even matter.

Dash and Kwan watch Danny approach the first player. They made sure to give him the jersey numbers beforehand. Kwan, who has neater penmanship, wrote them down on Danny's palm. Their original idea was to have him greet the whole team but that would take too long. They settled for the key players instead.

Danny plants himself in front of the star quarterback and sticks his hand out. Dash snickers when the guy tries to step around Danny, and Danny sidesteps right back into his path. He says something and shoves his hand in the quarterback's direction again.

"You think Fenton's playing along?" Kwan asks.

"Nah. As if he even knows what's up. Did you see the blank look he gave me in the cafeteria? Besides, I upped the 'no-beating' time to two weeks if he did the handshakes."

Kwan touches his fingers as he silently counts the dates in his head. "That's the next home game."

"Yep. If this works tonight, I might just give him the offer again then."

The Waterford's quarterback eventually shakes Danny's hand, scurrying away as soon as he's released. Danny moves on to the next one.

That night, the Waterford Weasels don't get a single touchdown.

—

Danny is suddenly the most popular kid at school, at least amongst the jocks. Considering how much weight Casper High puts behind their athletic programs, that makes him pretty damn high on the food chain. Not that he seems to realize.

The basketball team, the volleyball team, even the cheerleaders. They drag a confused Danny along whenever they can and set him lose on the opposing team. There's always a bribe, of course. Everybody knows Danny isn't big into school spirit. He'd never gone to a single game before all this, after all.

At first, they're just using him. He freaks out the competition so much it throws them off their game, which means a lot more trophies to fill up Casper High's dusty case in the near future. Eventually, though, it becomes something else. There's still the raw, primal joy of seeing Danny scare the hell out of some outsiders, but they start inviting him to the after parties, too. They let Danny's friends tag along. Dash even gives him a friendly slap on the back one day when they're passing in the hall.

Three months ago, nothing like that would have happened. Three months ago, Dash would have stuffed you in a locker for even suggesting it.

By some miracle, they manage to keep the teachers out of the loop. If any of them asks, the students either answer with a shrug, or suggest that Fenton's turned a new leaf and he's really into school spirit now. Most of them go for the shrug.

It doesn't last forever, though. The students get bolder, inviting Danny to away games outside the city. He rejects most of them, no matter how sweet the bribe, with a number of excuses.

"I have homework."

"I've got some extracurricular stuff to work on."

"I don't have a car."

"You don't need a car, we've got a bus!" Dash says.

Danny, already turning to walk away, stops. "What?"

"You can ride on the team bus with us," Dash says. It's not exactly conventional, but they've got the room for it. All they have to do is sneak Danny past Tetslaff and keep him out of sight until they're on the road. There's not much she can do about it once they've already set out.

"Are you serious?" Danny asks.

Dash rolls his eyes, not even deigning Danny with a proper response. Fishing his notebook out his backpack, Dash quickly scribbles out the time and date of the away game, plus when the team bus is going to leave.

Danny eyes the piece of paper, frowning as he tries to decipher Dash's cramped handwriting.. "You don't even know if I'll show up."

"You'll show up."

"I doubt it."

—

Danny shows up. He meets Dash by the back door, already donning the sweater he's now permanently borrowed from Mikey. He asked Mikey if Lester would ever want it back, but Mikey assured him his debt is settled. Whatever that means.

"Tetslaff usually waits until all the equipment is loaded up before getting on. We just have to sneak you by her, which won't be too hard," Dash says.

"You realize I'm not shorter than you anymore, right?" Danny asks.

Dash squints. No, he hadn't, actually. Even though they see each other every day, Dash still pictures Danny as the same wimpy kid from freshman year. But Danny's right. He has a few inches on Dash, now that they're a couple years older, although he's still got nothing in terms of muscle mass. Just looking at him, Dash is pretty sure Mikey has more muscle than Danny does.

"Whatever, let's just go." Dash leads Danny over to the bus.

Tetself stands with her back to them. She oversees the rest of the team as they throw their equipment bags into the storage compartment at the bottom of the bus. She's completely oblivious to the two rule breakers heading her way.

But Kwan and Dale see coming from afar and jog over to join them. They fall into step on Dash's left, making a little wall between Danny and Tetslaff. If Danny ducks his head, he's completely out of view. They're almost home free, a few feet from the bus, when Danny's foot slips into a rut in the grass he careens forward.

He cries out in shock, throwing his arms out to catch himself. Dash manages to snag his arm before he hits the ground, jerking Danny to a stop. He hangs there a moment, body limp, blinking at the grass and wondering if that really just happened.

"Daniel Fenton, what are you doing?" Tetslaff asks.

Dash jostles Danny out of his daze. He scrambles upright, brushing himself off as Tetslaff approaches. She stops right in front of him, fists on her hip, her glare stern.

"Getting on the bus?" Danny says.

Behind Tetslaff, Dash slaps a hand against his face.

"Only team members are allowed on the team bus. Those are the rules."

"But coach, he's out lucky charm!" Dash protests.

Tetslaff turns, squinting at Dash. Crossing her arms, she leans toward him. "Oh, yeah? How so?"

Dash, Kwan, and Dale share a long, considering look. Kwan shrugs. Dale tilts his head back. Shooting Danny a wary glance, Dash beckons Tetslaff over, out of earshot. She stays rooted to the spot.

"Please, Coach?"

Normally, a little something like saying please wouldn't do a lick of help in swaying Tetslaff. She's as stubborn as her arms are thick. But today, she feels a little indulgent. The team's being doing great, both in practice and on field. She's willing to give a little, if only for all the effort they're giving her back.

With a sigh, Tetslaff follows Dash.

"He scares the hell out of the other players so that they mess up and we win," Dash confesses once they're out of earshot.

Tetslaff's eyebrows shoot up her forehead. "Fear tactics, huh? Didn't want to rely on you own skill?"

"That's not it! I know we're a great team. We don't need Fenton. But he makes us work harder for it. He's kind of motivating, you know?"

Tetslaff looks at Dash and says nothing. With a shake of her head, she marches back to Danny. "Mr. Fenton, you're coming with me."

Danny gives the team a helpless look, a weak shrug, and follows their coach back into the school.

"Damn," Kwan says. "Almost had it."

"Did you mean what you said about Fenton, Dash?" Dale asks.

"I think I did?" Dash watches Danny and Tetslaff until they disappear through the doors. "I don't know about you guys, but whenever he scares the other team, I kind of want to earn that."

Dale nods. "Man, I wanted to see the fear in their eyes.

"Huh." Kwan taps his chin, deep in thought. "Does anyone else think we should be concerned about the fact that we enjoy that so much?"

All at once, more than half the team drones, "Nah."

"I think you're right, though," Kwan says to Dash. "Having Danny around is kind of fun."

"Today's game is gonna be so boring." Dale moans in disappointed. He boards the bus, quickly followed by his teammates. Soon enough, everyone is on and in their seats. All they need is for Tetslaff to return. She's gone for a solid ten minutes. There are still a few hours before the game starts, but it makes the players antsy. Dash keeps checking out the window for any sign of her.

The school's back door opens. Dash perks up, leaning toward the glass as Tetslaff steps out. She holds the door open. Danny comes out after her. And he's wearing the official Casper High Raven costume.

"Boys!" Tetslaff says when she climbs back on the boss. "Say hello to our new mascot!"

Her declaration is met with a round of cheers.

—

It's two hours before the game. Danny sits on a bench outside the locker rooms, the raven head resting beside him. When Tetslaff offered to make him the mascot, he admittedly hesitated. In the past, he didn't have time for stuff like this. But things are a little easier now, ghost-wise. His parents are better hunters. Valerie proves time and again how capable she is. The ghosts themselves have even backed off a little since Danny started junior year.

For the first time since starting high school, he actually has the time to do high school things outside of homework. It won't be his first time acting as the official mascot, either. He used to fill in for the mascot in freshman year, before things got too much for Danny to handle and he had to drop it.

He wishes Tetslaff let him keep wearing his hoodie, though. The raven costume isn't that comfortable.

The door to the locker rooms opens. Paulina steps through, already in her cheerleading outfit even though there's still an hour before she needs to be on the field. She takes one look at Danny and says, "Oh, hell no."

Danny recoils, offended. He thought they were on sort of good terms after everything with Whitney, but apparently, he was wrong.

"Tetslaff already made me the mascot, Paulina. I'm here whether you like it or not," he says.

"No, duh. I'm pretty sure you two were the only ones who didn't know you're are mascot." Paulina flicks the shoulder of the raven suit. It makes a dull thunk. The plastic feathers barely twitch. "But you're not scaring anyone in that thing. What are you gonna do, say 'boo?'"

Danny thinks about all the little tricks he has up his sleeve and grins. "I think you'd be surprise."

The costume may be bulky and round, with a wide friendly smile that gives one of those "huggable mascot" looks, but Danny's a ghost. If anybody can do scary, it's him. The past few months have proved that nicely.

"Wait, wait, wait," Paulina says, holding up her hands. She pivots in front of Danny and grabs his shoulders. "You know that you scare people?"

"I mean, yeah? It's kind of hard not to." Danny shakes his head. After the fifth time some stranger flinches away from your touch, you start piecing things together.

"And you never said anything?"

Danny honestly didn't think he had to. Did everyone just expect him not to catch on? Yes. Yes, they did. But that's not the point right now. Danny rubs the back of his neck and chuckles nervously. "I don't really care much about being popular anymore, but it's kind of nice to be invited to stuff, you know?"

Paulina doesn't believe him for a second. She crosses her arms and gives him a critical star. "And?" she asks.

Danny looks at her, looks away. Kicks the grass with his foot. He knows exactly what she wants to hear. He wants to deny it, but he can't. Sheepishly, he admits, "And it's kind of fun."

"Perfect. Then you won't mind what I'm about to do to you."

"Wait, what? Paulina, I– ah!" Paulina grabs his arm and drags him into the girl's locker room.

—

Danny holds himself perfectly still, arms out from his body. "Paulina, I don't think–"

"Ah, ah, ah! I'm almost done! No moving. And make sure you don't lean back against things too much, or else you'll smudge it." Paulina peers under Danny's arm, holding a paintbrush slathered in blue body paint so dark it's almost black.

"Aren't our team colours red and white?" Danny asks. Turning his arms over, he scans the parts of his skin Paulina has already finished painting. Bold feathers cover most of his upper arm, going up his shoulder and, from what Danny could feel as Paulina worked, down his back. She won't let him see what she's doing, though. He hopes it's cool.

"You mean the most boring colours in team colour history?" Paulina scoffs. She steps back, admiring her work for a moment, and drops her brush in the can of body paint. "I've been trying to get Ishiyama to change the school colours for years. Maybe with this, she will."

"Are you don’t yet?"

"Boy, I worked hard on this, let me breathe it in before you go out there and ruin it."

"Mikey's hoodie was scarier."

"Mikey's hoodie was garish. This is a work of art."

Danny picks at his new pants, heavy things made of a thick material and covered in a generous layer of black feathers. At least his legs will be warm tonight.

"You think I'm scarier without a shirt on? Gee, thanks." Danny rolls his eyes. He's not as offended as he sounds, though. Being a half ghost has led to some physical qualities he would rather do without, but can't do anything to change. Like an incredibly fast metabolism that burns through everything he eats before he even has a chance to taste it. Jazz keeps telling him he has to start making health choices, so he doesn't pass out or keel over from hunger.

He tries, but there's only so much he can do, and his ribs seem to be permanently on display. Danny pokes them now, scowling at how they press against his skin. That is so not healthy. He lets his hand drop back to the feathered pants.

"Where did you even get this on such short notice?" he asks. All Paulina did was make a phone call, then someone came buy and dropped off a paper bag with the pants, body paint, and a smaller plastic bag inside.

"I already had it made, silly. I told you, that sweater was so ugly. I couldn't let you keep repping Casper High in something like that." The noise Paulina makes is nothing short of disgusted. She really hates Mikey's sweater, effective as it was. But this is going to be glorious.

Danny peeks over his shoulder, trying to catch his reflection in the mirror, but he can't get a good view.

"Look straight," Paulina commands, pushing Danny's cheek. She raises his arms. "Hold them out like this, perfectly still. Perfect."

She takes out her phone and snaps a few photos of Danny's back. Flicking through them, she chooses the best one, posting it to the Casper Ravens twitter page with the caption "new mascot unveiling tonight." Once she's done, she passes her phone to Danny to show him her handiwork.

"Whoa." Danny stares down at the delicately painted wings on his back. Paulina made them just right so that when he raises his arms, it looks like the wings are unfurling. "Okay, that's a lot cooler than Mikey's hoodie. A shirt would still be nice, though."

"It'd take away from the look. You're practically a skeleton. What'll freak people out more than that?"

"Really feeling the love, Paulie."

"No using my nickname for her!" Star shouts from behind a row of lockers.

Paulina shooed the other girls to the other side of the room when she brought Danny in to give him his new look. By now, they are all changed into their uniforms and ready to show they're spirit.

"Okay. I'll just call her Lina instead."

"Please, god, no." Paulina groans. "That name is so stupid."

The other cheerleaders giggle as they join Danny and Paulina in the main room. They look nice, wearing their matching pleated skirts and crop tops. With their hands on their hips, the pom-poms give their steps a little extra bounce.

"We know you haven't choreographed anything. Just do your think, and we'll do ours. I know you aren't as clumsy as people think," Star says. She gives Danny an encouraging pat on his cheek. It is not as motivating as she thinks it is.

The girls start lining up by the door, doing a few small jumps to get their blood pumping. Danny does the same, shaking out his arms and hopping from foot to foot. He moves to take his place at the end of the line.

"Hold it!"

"Oh, what now?" Danny groans, slumping over. Paulina's shoes invade his vision. She sticks a plastic bag under his nose, holding it out for him to take. "What's this?"

"The last piece of your costume. It's my favourite."

Danny removes the piece from the bag. He grins wickedly.

—

Balmoral High, as the home team, runs onto the field first. Having heard of Caspers' unusual intimidation tactics, they came prepared. The players run onto the field amidst a burst of sparklers and strobe lights flashing their team colours. It pumps up the crowd, just as it's meant to, and the team is met with a roar of approval.

They pump their fists, leaping and bounding across the field. Cheerleaders in short skirts and shorter tops wave their pom-poms, do cartwheels and flips, and spur the crowd on. Their mascot runs on last. A guy in a bear costume, his raises his arms and roars, slashing his paws through the air.

It's all very cute.

Casper High comes in with far less fanfare. The cheerleaders are first, swishing their hips and blowing kisses at the crowd. Raising their voices, they cry out to the crowd. "We're the corvid to your carrion! We're here to fight to the break of dawn!" The few people from Amity Park who could make the trek to the neighbouring city cheer back, cranking their noise makers and stomping their feet. The players charge in next, thrusting their helmets in the air. They have feathers paint on their cheeks.

A few Balmoral players snort, bumping elbows and pointing to the face paint. When the last Casper student runs onto the field, all of Balmoral turns to watch for the infamous mascot. No one comes.

"Ha!" Balmoral's linebacker, in the middle of the team huddle, shouts. It would seem that Casper's reputation isn't all it's cracked up to be.

"Excuse me?"

The linebacker freezes, feeling a tap on his shoulder. He turns, slowly, and sees a boy wearing raven skull mask and a devilish grin.

"Boo."

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