#DP fic

[pricklenettle]

This Ecto-Implosion, the artist I was partnered up with was the fantastic @mousetrappart! It was such a pleasure working with her and the illustrations she created for this fic are wonderful! Please go check her out! For a pair who both don't actually much like bugs, there are a lot of bugs in this fic, and I think it came out super fun!

1-800-GHOST-ZONE

Ao3 link

Words: 12,335

Summary:

Do you have a ‘buggy’ problem on your hands? Things with beady eyes, several legs, bulbous bodies and buzzing wings? Well Phantom is the one for the job! With a pun and a grin, he’ll fulfill all your punching, exterminating, and relocating needs in the blink of a eye! What’s better than a service that never sleeps? Call your resident ghost boy NOW!!!! Contact methods include but are not limited to: loud shouting, screams of terror, or close proximity to another ghost. Phantom is unavailable for: photos, non-ghost pest problems, or calls for a permanent solution.

(On request from Danny Phantom, we ask that you not call the Drs. Fenton while Phantom is on duty, as side effects include copious amounts of anti-ecto foam, attempted arrest, and an upset ghost with a necessary shower in his future.)

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Evenings in the Nasty Burger diner had gotten pretty quiet recently. That evening there was no one in the booths, and that wasn’t likely to change soon. People didn’t like to see bugs and eat at the same time. Even if it was dubious if these bugs had any interest in food at all.

The girl on duty at the counter stood on guard with a broom. Her eyes drifted more than once to the floor and the shadowed corners around her. She jumped when the door opened with a jingle.

“I’m officially done. No more bugs for me, no thank you.”

“Come on, Tuck, no one makes as good bait as you,” the dark haired teenager laughed, only a little cruelly.

Tucker stopped short in the doorway, looking around suspiciously. “Are you sure there aren’t any in here?”

Danny tilted his head to the side. “For now.”

Tucker barked a nervous laugh. “For now, he says. Don’t you know they’re all around us? Creeping? crawling under covers and biting toes.” He shuddered.

“Hey, I’ll take bugs all day long. They may be many, but I have the power of suction on my side. Danny swung the thermos from his hand, then shook it from side to side. “It takes forever to fill up on those things. Hey, I have to release them eventually, do you think I could dump them on Skulker's Island?” That laugh was definitely evil.

Continue Reading on Ao3

[redelliavalentinos]

Quick practice scribbles. If you haven't read the fic, the last picture, he can tunnel, and traditional human speech is out in this form.

[anonymousangstmonster]

Prompt #81 “Baby Vampire”

The Fenton parents are monster hunters.

One night they left their daughter home with a babysitter while the two of them went hunting in the woods.

They found a vampire camp. Tents posted up and a campfire burning in the middle.

The strangest part was that there was a baby boy playing with sticks and rocks near one of the tents. The vampires must have kidnapped the poor thing! And the boy was so pale, they must have been feeding off of him!

So, they attacked the camp, set fire to the tents, killed all the vampires, and took the child home with them.

They tried to feed him with all sorts of foods, but he was just getting thinner by the day.

They tried feeding him baby food, baby formula, fruits, cooked meats; he ate all of it, but nothing seemed to give him any nourishment.

But after about a week of trying and failing to feed this poor boy, Jack stumbled over something while carrying a knife, dropped said knife, and accidentally cut his hand with it.

Beads of blood rolled down his hand and dripped to the floor, when he lifted his head he saw the boy sniffing the air, his eyes glowing red.

Jack realized the mistake he and Maddie made at that campsite.

Tentatively he walked closer to the baby vampire in a high chair and let his blood drip into the boys mouth.

After that he seemed happy and livelier. Jack talked with Maddie about the baby. The boy hadn’t shown any aggression while with them, he seemed harmless so far; so they decided to take him in and continue to take care of him.

After all, they did kill his family, it was the least they could do to accept him into theirs.

They named him Daniel, Danny for short.

They raised the little vampire as if he was their own, but hid his monstrous nature from everyone, including himself.

They infused his human food with blood, so he wouldn’t know what he was really getting his nourishment from.

He grew up believing he was human. Until he turned fourteen, then everything went downhill.

[snaileer]

Obsession

The thing is this. For all his friends teased him about a protection obsession, for all they poked at him for his constant inability to let things go without helping… he didn’t think that was it. Of course he would step up every time, but it wasn’t a pulling, consuming need, it was guilt, knowing the ghosts were his fault in the end.

If you asked Danny, he’d say his obsession was the stars, the world just past our planet’s atmosphere. A place so vast and so amazing that he couldn’t help but pause and stare sometimes. He’d say his obsession was his curiosity, his wonder, his desire to simply know.

But if he was honest with himself; truly, actually honest… that wasn’t it either.

They say your obsession forms by your last thought when you die. Your last thought in your mind, in your heart, the last thing you want before it ends. And if it’s powerful enough, if you want it enough, and there’s enough energy to power it…. You’ll become a ghost.

Danny’s last thought wasn’t about protecting.

It wasn’t even about his love of space.

When Danny had died, 14 and isolated in a machine of his parent’s making, his last thought had been not unlike that of the many others who are lost too young and too soon.

‘I just want to live.’

And when there’s enough energy, and the desire is strong enough… the last thought before death can be powerful enough to determine a ghost’s existence.

And all Danny wanted was to live.

So when he stumbled out of the machine, hair white and eyes glowing,

Danny Fenton lived.

[fanaroff]

Danny post Obsession Trance -- Mental design lineup

I had an idea of how I wanted Danny too look before I even started writing. Things may change when I actually get around to writing it in the fic, but for now this is how I have him in my head. Hopefully posting it doesn't bungle the quality, I'm really happy with how it turned out Fic >> Above the Nasty Burger

[asleep-in-the-keep-sideblog]

Danny looking at a picture of shigiraki: yeah he looks like he plays league

Midoriya nodding: yeah the league are really scary looking. One time he smiled at me and I almost cried

Danny: no I meant he looks like he plays league. Like league of legends?

Midoriya: oh…

Danny still looking at the picture: average discord mod

[torscrawls]

A Ghost by Any Other Name

Danny tries to discreetly combat the ghosts suddenly showing up in Gotham without anyone finding out his secret, find out exactly why the ghosts have decided to follow him like lost ducklings after his narrow escape from his hometown, keep under the radar of both the Bats and his parents, not melt any more than he already has, and not worry his new and innocent friend Tim. Who knew that running away from home would be this stressful?

Wordcount: 1,620

Chapter 1/10

Can be read on AO3!

This fic has art from the wonderful and talented Luca!

---

Tim was just exiting his favorite coffee-shop when he was suddenly tackled by a shouting woman. “My baby! There you are!”

He watched his innocent cup of quintuple-shot espresso sail through the air and splatter across the sidewalk at the same time as he registered her muscular arms and the clear press of several weapons strapped to her body. Not a normal civilian then.

Right. Priorities.

The woman kept her strangle-hold on him as she continued, “Thank goodness you finally managed to get away from that terrible ghost!”

Tim twisted to get his attacker off him. Then he noticed that he wasn’t held in any of the multitude of restraining holds that he had been trained to escape. No, it was something a lot stranger than that. It was a hug.

“I think you have the wrong person,” he managed to get out as he tried to ease her off him, finally registering her earlier words and mentally readjusting the scenario towards a case of misunderstanding rather than an attack. Hopefully. It wouldn’t be the first time a villain took a roundabout way of getting to him, even if he had to say a hug was quite a nice way of going about it.

And that was the moment he noticed the frankly ridiculously big man bounding towards them with a wide smile and tears streaming down his face. He wasn’t slowing down. Oh shit.

He patted the woman on the back to get her attention since she seemed completely unaware of their impending doom. “Um…”

She only squeezed him harder and said, “God! It’s been so long! We were so worried!”

Tim’s bad feeling turned into dread. “… We?”

Then the man slammed into both of them with a wail of, “Danno!” 

The air rushed out of Tim as he was squashed between the two strangers. He might have been robbed of his morning coffee but he couldn’t deny that he was wide awake by now. Cass would be proud, and laugh her ass off. Tim vowed to never let her know about this.

After what felt like an eternity and what was surely a few cracked ribs, the woman disentangled herself from the hug with practiced ease that would put Catwoman to shame. She somehow managed to get the man to let Tim go and after a few seconds of struggling to breathe, Tim managed to wheeze out, “What's a Danno?!”

Then he was staring down the barrel of a gun. He tried to quell his instinct to kick it out of the woman’s hands, but it was the middle of the morning rush, and they were standing on a fairly well trafficked sidewalk, where even if people were smart enough to give the gun-wielding-maniacs—ergo, possible villains—a wide berth, it didn't mean they weren't staring.

Tim slowly raised his hands in a disarming gesture as he thought of a way to get out of this. So far they hadn’t made any demands. They also hadn’t harmed him (except his coffee and his wounded pride). Tim just wished he knew what this was about. So far he had been hugged twice, then had a gun aimed at his face. A gun that glowed green, emitted a worryingly high-pitched whine, and was very clearly home-made. Wonderful.

As Tim looked between the woman and the man he noted how both of their expressions had gone from relief and love to cold and hateful in the blink of an eye. He tensed, ready to disarm her, no matter the people around them. He refused to get himself shot before lunch.

The woman’s hands were steady—even though Tim noted that one of her hands were wrapped in bandages, and how both she and the man looked like they hadn’t slept in days—and her voice was flat as she said, “Phantom might still be overshadowing him.”

Tim frowned as both of them looked intensely into his eyes and after a few tense seconds the woman gave a satisfied nod. “The ghost is gone. You're safe now.”

She lowered the gun but Tim’s frown only deepened. “Ghost? What ghost?” 

The man and woman exchanged looks which only served to confuse him even more. 

“Honey,” the woman said in a soft voice, holstering her gun before placing a hand on Tim’s arm. He shook her off. “Honey, you were kidnapped by Phantom. It overshadowed you. You’ve been missing for a long time! That's probably why you can't remember anything.”

The man nodded along. “We’ve followed you to several cities. You must be exhausted!”

They seemed genuinely distraught by what they were saying but that didn't change the fact that they were absolutely insane.

Tim shook his head. “Look, you’re clearly confused. I’m not—”

He didn’t get to finish before the big man patted Tim on the shoulder with enough force to make him stumble. “Come on, now. It’s time to go home!”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Tim bit out, his patience running out. He was almost certainly late to his meeting by now, he didn’t have his coffee, and these two seemed allergic to making any kind of sense. “Who the fuck even are you?”

“Language young man!” The woman with the gun admonished him at the same time as the hulking man shook his head with a disapproving, “Is that any way to address your folks?” 

“My what?!”

These people were absolutely crazy. He already had one unstable parent which was more than enough, thank you very much. He had to get away from them. He took a few steps backwards. The big man stepped with him.

“Son. We know you must be scared, but—” 

“Why would you think I'm your son?!” And what kind of parents would be so ready to pull a gun on their child?

The man slammed a meaty fist into his other hand. “Is this something Phantom put you up to? Oh, when I get my hands on that ghost I’ll—”

The woman grabbed Tim’s arm in a startlingly strong grip. “Are you sure you’re okay, honey? Did that pesky ghost mess with your head?”

“I’m not your son!” Tim exclaimed with increasing desperation. He slapped her hand away. “And stop touching me!”

At this she paused, wide eyes fixed on him, before they narrowed sharply.

The man’s eyes fixed on the side of his neck as he slowly said, “What happened to your scar…?”

The woman finally drew back from him. “Daniel would never hit—”

“Wait a minute…” the man said as he pointed an accusatory finger at Tim. “You're not Daniel!”

Tim groaned as he dragged a hand through his hair. “That's what I've been saying the whole time!”

“Oh!” The woman tilted her head with a calculating look in her eyes that made a shiver of discomfort crawl up Tim’s spine. “But you really do look similar. You both have dark hair and blue eyes.”

Tim waited for more attributes that he shared with this mysterious Daniel, but nothing else came. That was why they had mistaken him for their son? His hair and eye color? …Shouldn’t they be a bit more familiar with what their own son looked like?

The man rubbed at his shin. “Did we have another son?”

“Ha!” the woman laughed, “Of course not, honey. We wouldn’t forget that!”

Tim wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t want to risk starting another argument with these people. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and awkwardly said, “So, I have to get going. It was… interesting meeting you.”

“Yes! Right! We need to keep looking!” The man straightened up and then screamed at the sky, “Don’t worry, son! We’re coming for you!”

Tim winced, both at the volume and at tomorrow’s headlines which he could already see in his mind’s eye. ‘Wayne Enterprise’s young CEO Tim Wayne caught roughhousing in the streets’. His family would not let him live this down for weeks.

“So sorry for the inconvenience,” the woman said as she lowered goggles over her eyes and took out what looked like some sort of tracking device from somewhere on her jumpsuit. She didn’t sound sorry at all. She continued under her breath, “Phantom should still be in the city… We won't let it get away again.”

And Tim was fairly certain that they should be more focused on finding their apparently missing son than hunting down some ghost, but who was he to judge? And he really didn’t want to get involved in this situation any more than he already had.

The man didn’t even try to apologize as he, once again, slapped Tim on the shoulder with enough force to make him stagger. “It was nice meeting you, young man! And remember; the only good ghost is a dead one!”

“Aren’t all ghosts dead…?”

That made the man boom out a laugh loud enough to make Tim wince. “I like your humor! If you ever get into any trouble with the undead just give us a call!”

Tim didn’t even know their names, but didn’t have time to ask before the woman exclaimed something about a reading and they both took off down the street on a run.

Whoever their missing son was, Tim hoped he stayed far away from them.

His eyes landed on his spilled coffee and Tim heaved a sigh as he turned back towards the coffee-shop. He would have to call in late, but he refused to face any more of this day without caffeine. 

He had more important things to focus on than Bruce getting some competition in the adoption-department. Oh, well. He probably wouldn't see them again.

At least he could console himself with the fact that ghosts aren't real.

[some-rotten-nest]

Tour Guide AU

Ages after the whole of Amity Park and Phantom, Danny becomes a tour guide for a museum. For which period of time? Well... Amity Park, Phantom and the Infinite Realms.

So long as he didn’t give himself away, it was easy money! He already knew everything about his own life and the museum was filled with old memorabilia, some of which was fake but looked very real, others which were actually real.

It had a decent salary, for a Museum in Gotham anyway. Plus, Danny knew how to defend himself, and common criminals didn’t usually go for his exhibition. Cultists? Sure, but Danny could fight them off. 

He did not think that the Justice League showing up and asking for his advice was something that could happen.

Turns out, the Justice League want something from King Phantom, but to summon him they need something of his, and Zantanna/Constantine had mentioned that ghosts have some etiquette (don’t ask about their death, possession  ≠  overshadowing, etc) that they should really catch up with.

So, two birds one stone, they go to the Museum which has a pretty good credibility and a guide that seems to know more than any history major, for some reason.

Danny is very nervous and confused. HIs coworkers are slightly scared.

(Tag me if anyone decides to mess with this, but, fair warning, I might as well)

[coldbronzemoon]

Danny Fenton, Totally Mortal Hero Consultant (DPxDC)

Snippet for an AU I'll probably never fully write where Danny takes a job as a consultant for the Justice League to help with ghost and demon bullshit. It's a pretty good cash flow to help him with college, after all, and very flexible hours.

He just claims all his knowledge comes from his parents. Unfortunately, the JL has caught word of the elusive yet active hero Phantom, and want Danny to help them meet and assess him. Whoops.

Over the phone, Tucker sighed. “Good Christ, Danny, why do you keep doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Danny said immediately. He winced at the vague sound of screaming below. Demons sucked. “I didn’t know the JL thing was gonna have me finding Phantom. How would I? They were talking about tracking down powerful ghosts, I was assuming Ancients!”

Tucker sighed again, which was really quite unfair of him. “Mhm. Well, Fenton Catcher?”

“Probably not. They know me pretty well at this point, and unlike what Sam says I can be professional. I’d confuse them with the… uh…”

“Stoner shtick?”

There was more screaming happening, but judging from the pitch it was a demon screaming this time. Danny checked the situation. Yep, demon getting their ass kicked. He didn’t need to get involved with a blaster. Yet.

Instead, he scowled at his phone. “Stop calling it that.”

“You’re gonna tell me flanny Danny wasn’t a pitch-perfect stoner, huh? With the chill vibing and the dopey look?”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, bud.” 

The sound of a clacking keyboard that had underlined their conversation stopped. “But seriously, Danny, what the hell are you gonna do with this?”

“Uh, lie, probably,” Danny said, because it was very likely.

“Alright, smartass, what are you going to do when that lie backfires on you like literally every other one does?”

“That’s when I start gaslighting, gatekeeping, and girlbossing, babe.”

He had a hard time hearing Tucker’s distant groan of “Why am I still your friend?” on account of the sudden explosion. Danny checked again. Hm. Demon dude had a nasty fire thing going on.

Danny switched on his Fenton water gun—holy water included!-- and shot the demon in the face. They let out a cracking hiss of rage, but dropped the fire spell thing. He waited for them to stop looking around wildly for the culprit for a moment. 

He went back to the call. “‘Cause you loooove me, Tuck. From the bottom of your twice-dead heart.”

“Unfortunately,” Tucker deadpanned.

Danny just cackled. It was lost amongst the sound of supernatural bullshit below.

“Anyway, I’m still figuring out my plan A, honestly. Might bring in gray-man?”

“Amorpho’s an asshole, though. He’ll ruin the whole thing by taking the opportunity to shift into a JL member for a bit.”

Hm. True.

“Yeah, but he’s the main guy I know with that power set.”

“Ask after Desiree?” He could hear the immediate distaste in Tucker’s voice. “Ugh, pretend I didn’t say that. That’s worse than Amorpho.”

“It’s awful,” Danny agreed easily. 

Desiree was actually pretty alright nowadays, mostly on account of Danny remembering the last couple minutes of Aladdin and wishing she could refuse wishes she didn’t want to grant. That had made her happy enough to stop actively picking fights. 

Unfortunately, spending the entirety of one’s afterlife twisting the wording of wishes to their worst form made it hard to stop being an asshole. Who knew! So getting Desiree to split him in two for like a week had a 50/50 chance of fucking up his work relationship with the literal league of superheroes irrevocably. And this was his main cash flow right now.

So, no Desiree, no siree.

“Come up with something better then, asshole.”

Danny hummed and, since the heroes below were focused on the demon, lifted up a little and did a thoughtful back flip. What to do, what to do…?

Oh!

“My cousin!” he exclaimed.

“What cous—? Oh, Ellie.”

“Yeah, Ellie, Tuck. Which other cousins do I have?”

Tucker scoffed. “You literally have that whole Nightingale thing going on through your dad?”

Danny couldn’t help the face he made. The remaining Nightingales were worse than his parents somehow. “The Nightingales don’t count.”

“You can’t just say they don’t count.”

“I can say that, actually, and I will. They’re, like, cousins through my great-great-great-grandpa anyway.”

“Isn’t there a fight going on over there? Should you be shooting someone?”

 “Yeah, probably.”

He peaked down through the window once more. The heroes must have gotten the first demon to leave while he was talking, because the horned demon fighting them now was a truly unfortunate shade of yellow-green instead of purple. Or maybe it had transformed for some reason? They had it about as in-hand as the other one, though, so Danny definitely didn’t need to go down there. He shot the maybe-new demon in the face real quick.

“Anyway, Ellie can totally help out, she’s been practicing with changing up her looks. She’s also more, uh, malleable than me, what with her situation and all. Looking fully like Phantom shouldn’t be hard.”

Tucker hummed. “She’d try to embarrass you though.”

“Yeah, that’s a problem.” Danny spun in place. “I could bribe her?”

“With what? Her life doesn’t involve needing much cash.”

“She doesn’t get out to the Zone very much. Not many of the inhabited places, anyway. I can promise her the weird apple things Dora’s been growing with Sam’s help, she loved those.”

“If you think that’ll work…” Tucker trailed off dubiously.

Danny laughed. “She’s annoying sometimes, but she’s not gonna fuck over my job if I ask her not to. I’ll just bribe her extra hard for resisting the temptation to mock me.”

“Fair enough.” The clacking of keys resumed. “I’ve really gotta pay attention now, someone’s trying to stop me from getting into this database. Someone half-decent, actually, did they upgrade? Hm. Make sure no one died, yeah?”

“They’re alive. Bye, Tuck,” Danny said, and ended the call.

He shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket and made his way down the stairs. The fight outside he had been stationed for was basically over—Captain Marvel and Green Lantern (Danny was pretty sure he had accidentally learned the dude’s actual name at some point, but hell if he could remember)—had pulled out the magic restraints one of the other consultants had handed out.

That had probably been Constantine. Ugh. Constantine. Dude could stand to lighten up a little; skulking and smoking all the time wasn’t the base state of someone enjoyable to be around. Then again, Danny knew he annoyed the shit out of some of the league with his own attitude, so he maybe shouldn’t talk. But at least he was annoying with a smile!

Case in point: Danny grinned at the heroes. “Got it handled?”

“Suppose so,” said the Green Lantern, “though a little more help would have been nice.”

Captain Marvel was too busy getting in a minor tussle with the demon to say anything either way.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m like, pretty mortal,” Danny said. “I’m not fucking with demons right where they can hit me. And I did shoot him!”

Green Lantern rolled his eyes, but admitted the point. Danny cheerfully flipped him off anyway.

“I’ll be heading out, then, the hellmouth this guy crawled out of is like three miles away.” Captain Marvel said, hauling the handcuffed demon over his shoulders like a very angry backpack.

“Oh, one more for the road!” 

Danny hit the demon with a final water gun shot. Hissing and scrunching their face like a cat, the demon tried to lunge at him. It wasn’t very successful. Weirdly non-verbal for a demon, who usually had to talk to make deals and steal mortal souls, but Danny wouldn’t judge. Might be a minor demon. A really basic imp? Who knew.

“Stop being a little bitch and you won’t get spray-bottled, asshole,” Danny chided.

With a loud laugh, Captain Marvel sped away.

[1800gotspook]

Only Yourself to Blame

This is for the 2024 Invisobang! Artwork by @duchi-nesten (HERE) and @fablepatron (HERE)! (links to be added)

Big thanks to @armed-with-knitting-needles for beta reading.

Summary: Valerie first meets Phantom under different circumstances– she's already the Red Huntress, and she has no blame to put on him for her current circumstances. She's still working for Vlad Masters, though, and he wants Phantom captured. After almost capturing him, she quickly realizes that he's not like the other ghosts. But she quickly loses any chance of gaining his trust, as she has to appease her boss. She quickly becomes stuck between two circumstances: risking her job to stand up to Vlad, or capturing Phantom. She doesn't like either of those options.

[AO3]

Chapter 1:

"Any last words, Ghost?" She pressed the blaster to his chest.

She had him backed into an alley. There was nowhere for him to go. Her heart raced. Her breath finally caught up with her.

This ghost was far more clever than any she had encountered before.

"Uh, yeah," the ghost said. He paused, heaving in deep breaths. His neon eyes darted down to the gun and back up at her. Probably a messy, last-ditch effort to find a way out. Unfortunately for him, he was up against a wall. Literally. "It was... nice to meet you," he said.

Before she could react, he faded from her vision and sunk into the brick wall.

Shit. She forgot they could do that.

She slapped the brick wall with her hand, the pin hold on him lost. And this was going to be her most impressive catch yet! Mr. Masters would have been so proud; likely would even pay her a hefty bonus if this was the same white-haired "scoundrel" he'd been rattling on about.

She released the trigger of her gun. It reabsorbed the built-up charge and powered down into standby mode.

She grunted and kicked the wall. Her solid metal boot barely made a thump. According to her wrist tracker, he was long gone.

After a few heavy breaths, she summoned her board and launched back into the air.

~

Valerie started to spot him more often around the school. He seemed to always show up, and even fight the other ghosts.

Phantom. His name was Phantom. That name was seriously lacking in theme compared to most ghosts she had captured. And he seemed so young! So much smaller than the others.

This time, some lunch lady ghost was in the cafeteria when he showed up.

So, Valerie decided to sit back and watch, instead of transforming and jumping into the fight.

He punched, dodged, and blasted ectoplasm at the opposing ghost. His enthusiasm and adaptability was really quite impressive… for a ghost.

And then the most peculiar thing happened.

Phantom pulled out a Catcher.

A swirling vortex of green erupted from it, and as the lunch lady ghost was sucked inside, she emitted a typical roar of defeat.

Valerie’s mind erupted into a slew of questions. Why was he fighting other ghosts? Why was he catching them? Where did he get a Catcher from? What was he gonna do with the captured ghosts?

This Phantom made absolutely no sense. And it seemed dangerous to leave a ghost in the hands of another ghost.

So she decided to confiscate his Catcher.

Running into the nearest utility closet, Valerie issued the mental command to summon her suit. She could already feel it brimming under her skin before she shut the door. And before she knew it, she was flying back out on her board.

"Phantom!" she shouted, making a break for him back in the cafeteria.

He was waving to some students, hovering over the wreck of the fight. Lunch tables were overturned, food strewn about the whole room. He was preparing to leave the scene.

"Wait!" She leaned even more sharply on her board, forcing it to move faster.

When he saw her approaching, his eyes widened, and he faded from the visual plane.

She skidded to a stop in front of where he had been hovering. She tapped the side of her helmet, initiating the thermal camera. Spinning in a circle she took in the whole cafeteria. Looking for just a single cold spot.

It was no use. He was gone.

Hopefully he knew what he was doing with that Catcher.

~

As instructed, Valerie flew through the open upper-window of Mr. Masters' mansion, making sure not to be seen.

After landing in the small side-room, she retracted her hoverboard and helmet, and she clomped her way across the hardwood floor. She was sure Mr. Masters was already aware of her arrival.

She made her way down the hall to his main office. The heavy wooden door into the room was closed.

She raised an arm to knock, but didn't get within a foot of the door before she heard Mr. Masters from the other side: "Come in, dear." He always spoke with strange pet-names. It felt like it was supposed to dispel all formalities and make Valerie feel more endeared to him, but for some reason it just came off as more formal. More outdated. It always felt a little off.

Valerie inched the heavy door open, feeling like she was intruding on some private affair. Why did he keep the door to his office closed when there was nobody else in his mansion? Was there somebody else here?

The door swung to a view of Mr. Masters, pristine white hair pulled back into a low, long ponytail down his back. His typical grey two-piece suit, adorned with a silky red ascot. His enormous wooden desk was directly squared across from the doorway, but he sat in his chair at an angle. Leaning back, legs crossed. Side glancing at her entry. Okay mister academic edgelord.

"And what brings my most esteemed hunter to my doorstep?" he leaned forward, his right hand hovering at his temple.

Valerie supposed he was talking about her. That was supposed to be a compliment.

"Well firstly, I brought some recent catches for you to handle," she pulled the nearly-full Catcher from her belt and held it in both hands, feeling its weight. She raised it slightly in front of her.

He made no move to accept the device from her. He did slightly tilt his head back, though.

Valerie gave up trying to offer the device, and readjusted her grip on the Catcher's cylindrical form. With one hand bearing its weight, her other hand found itself tracing its intricate texture. A half-circle up the side, and then back down the bumpy buttons. Up and around. Down.

"Also," she began, "I've been running into this ghost lately– Phantom." She paused to see if he would give her any cue.

She wondered if it was just her imagination, or if his eyes tightened just slightly.

She continued.

"He– he was difficult to catch. I mean– I didn't catch him." Valerie opted to stop looking at Mr. Masters and directed her attention to his bookshelf on the left. The assorted books and little trinkets scattered across the shelves seemed to soothe her restlessness.

"He was different from any other ghost I've seen. Didn't seem to fight back."

Her eyes fell on a strange little wooden figure: a man wearing a top hat and eye patch.

"Didn't seem to want to cause trouble at all. I just–" Valerie looked back at Masters' still unmoving figure, "Is that the ghost you were talking about? With the white hair? Was there a reason he needed to be caught?"

"Oh dear," he sighed, leaning back. "My dear little viper, you have only been under my wing for a month–"

As if he'd actually taught her anything himself.

"–so you do not yet understand the deviousness of ghosts. This– what did you call him? This Phantom– likely knows that you are a serious threat, so he is doing his best to hide his true nature from you."

That was difficult to swallow. Protecting the town from dangerous ghosts by catching and re-releasing them was one thing. Chasing down a creature that wanted nothing but to be left alone… it felt wrong.

"In fact," Mr. Masters stood from his desk chair, "if this ghost's behavior is as abnormal as you say, well that means it is likely very strong. And dangerous enough to manipulate people like yourself."

Like herself?

Masters circled around the desk to stand directly in front of Valerie. "Not to say you're easy to manipulate, my dear. But since you aren't, and this ghost managed to stir doubt in you this much," he reached forward, his index and thumb clamping around the thermos in her hand.

"Then it sounds like this ghost should be your highest priority." He slid the Catcher out of her grip.

Valerie didn't need elaboration to know that this was an order.

Wordlessly, she nodded. Before she could process her own actions, she had already made her way down the hallway, through the window, and out of the mansion.

[new-revenant]

A So Called Tamaranean

Edit: Ao3 Link!

Danny falls through a portal leading to a world full of superheroes. Unfortunately, he happens to bare an uncanny resemblance to a certain race of aliens here-Tamaraneans.

So my post about Danny being mistaken for a Tamaranean is being seen by more and more people, so I’ve decided to finally post this one-shot I’ve made around the time I made the original post. I have no idea if I’ll continue this or not, I kinda just wanted to write about my little idea for a bit and figure out how to write Nightwing. I think he would good with kids. I also only refer to Dick with they/them pronouns because it makes it so much easier to differentiate who’s who when referring to someone.

☁︎

The last thing that Danny remembered was green. Lots and lots of green ectoplasm. And before that? He was trying to escape from one of the many dangers of the Ghost Zone. He couldn’t even see what it was, but he sure as hell could sense it. Both with his ghost sense, and by being beaten up by it.

He never meant to go so far from the portal, so far from his home. And he definitely didn’t mean to get hit right into a different portal.

When he woke up, he couldn’t sense any ectoplasm at all. Death and decay, however, he could sense. And smell. He mostly smelled burnt rock, just like all the other times he got slammed into the ground by ghosts. He really needs to learn how to dodge one day.

His eyes fluttered open, then closed them just as quickly as dust went right into his eyes. He had seen smoke and rock, just like he expected. He groaned, trying to push himself up, but fell in an instant. He was so tired. And yet, he could tell he was still in his ghost form. How could he still be in his ghost form when he had no energy left? He had no idea.

So Danny laid there, trying to think about where he could be and why was he stuck in his ghost form. At least he thought he was stuck in his ghost form as he usually turns back into a human when he passes out.

Then he heard something. Something other then the ringing in his ears. It was a voice, maybe a masculine sounding one, that had an “are you okay?” tone to it. Danny would know because he’d been asked that hundreds of times before whenever he’d gotten injured. Instinctually, he tried to say that he was fine, but all that came out was a whimper.

Then the ringing in his ears got quieter, and he could hear the stranger’s footsteps coming closer.

“Hey kid, are you okay?” Danny could finally make out the person’s words. His eyes fluttered open again, revealing the person to have black hair, a pale face, and what looked to be a long black sleeved shirt with some blue on it, and a domino mask.

Was he in the 18th century again? Wait, had he’d ever been to the 18th century before? Well he couldn’t be now, not with the striking blue the guy had. Pretty sure they didn’t have blue dye like that back then. Oh god where the fuck was he? He had heard from all his ghostly friends-mostly Frostbite and Clockwork-that the Ghost Zone could bleed into other universes and timelines. Danny really hoped that was not the case. Danny had to get up.

He was in so much pain, his entire body stinging. But he pushed himself off the ground anyways, like he always did. When he sat up he saw the stranger stretch out their hand to him. Danny hesitated for a moment, before scrambling away from them because he did not trust them one bit. Well, maybe two bits but nothing more.

He hovered a bit off the ground, a good few feet away from the masked guy. They looked surprised, and looked at him rather analytically. Danny looked back at him analytically as well. The person seemed to wear this one-piece suit with black gloves and boots, with the wings of a blue bird-like symbol on their chest going across his shoulders and extending to their hands. They were lean and muscular and could probably take down many normal humans in a fight. And Danny.

Danny only hoped that this guy wasn’t some sort of weird murder or something. Maybe they were normal for this world’s standards. Maybe he was normal for this world’s standards. Probably not to be honest.

And then Danny was taken out of his questioning by a question posed by the stranger, “Are you a Tamaranean?” they asked. They weren’t speaking English, Danny could tell by the way their mouth didn’t match their words. Hurray for ghost speak.

“May-“ Danny coughed, his throat sore, but it was fine, he’ll get over it, he always does. “Maybe I am, why do you want to know?”

The guy smirked, making Danny feel a bit uneasy, “You did answer my question back in fluent Tamaranean.”

“So I did, again, why. Do. You. Want to know? How do you know about Tamaraneans? Who are you?” Danny was so confused about everything in this situation and he thought he asked decent enough questions. He had no idea what theses “Tamaraneans” were but he’ll play along as long as he won’t get shot.

“I’m called Nightwing,” they said calmly, “And I want to know what you are because I want to help you,” then they took a step forward. Danny was not expecting this and instinctively shot at them with ectoplasm. Danny yelped, both in surprise that he shot at them and at the fact pain almost immediately shot up his left arm. He could almost feel the nerves in his arm burn. That’s not good.

And yet Nightwing dodged it easily, skillfully, and didn’t seem too bothered by it. In fact, they seemed more concerned for Danny’s well being.

“I’m not going to fight you,” they tried to talk to Danny, “And I know how to help you, I’ve met other Tamaraneans, Tamaraneans who have powers like you.”

Okay so these Tamaraneans could also shoot green beams and fly, duly noted. And not all of them had these powers. God this place was weird. Danny couldn’t care about how weird he was or how weird his world was, but this place just felt weirder.

“You have?” Danny asked in a whisper to put less strain on his throat, floating down to the ground, holding his arm. “Who?”

“Starfire and Blackfire for one, those two have powers,” Danny noticed them happily say Starfire’s name and the tone of distaste they had for Blackfire. So Danny had an idea for which of the two was probably evil. Not really because the guy he was speaking to could still be evil and not to be trusted.

Nightwing then started to list more names of Tamaraneans, which Danny tried to pay attention to so he could give a good enough fake name to them.

“So kid, again, I just want to help you,” Nightwing bent down to one knee, like every non-teacher adult does when they want to talk to a small kid. “I may not know exactly what happened to you, but you don’t have to be alone.”

Danny didn’t expect to feel so...touched. Maybe this guy wasn’t too bad. Maybe he should just tell the guy what he was-actually that could still be a bad idea. Danny didn’t know if they would just flip like a dime and turn around and try to rip him apart. Molecule by molecule.

“What’s your name?” Nightwing asked. Their voice and face was soft, Danny noticed, but their body seemed alert, just ever so slightly tensed, ready for combat on a moment’s notice.

“My name…” Danny mumbled, looking away from Nightwing to think. In a moment of panic and many racing thoughts, he was able to think of something.

“Nightgale,” Danny said, a mirage of a smile on his face, “A bit like your name, isn’t it?” He was somehow able to remember that his last name used to be Fentonnightingale earlier in his family line, and got the name ‘Nightgale’ from it. Thank you infini-map.

“Yeah it does!” Nightwing laughed, “Well, it’s nice to meet you Nightgale.”

Danny really should’ve expected them to stretch out their hand again. He really should’ve been a bit less on edge then he was at that moment. And yet he shot Nightwing in the face when they tried to outstretch their hand.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to-oh no no no no,” Danny panicked, looking around to see where he could escape to and he was in a goddamn field with a city surrounding the entirety of the park. Danny just now realized that he had absolutely no idea where he was. He just shot his only hope at figuring out how to get home-probably, knowing his luck, definitely.

And yet Nightwing practically brushed it off. Yeah they stood up, stumbled backwards, swore in pain, and had to remove their mask for a quick second to rub their eyes, but then blinked a few times and seemed okay.

“Well that wasn’t as bad as when the other two did that,” Nightwing muttered in English, “Did the other two do that? Yeah probably. Anyways” -Nightwing switched back to speaking in Tamaranean- “It’s fine kid, you can calm down.”

So Danny did calm down. Mostly. Not really as he was still muttering apologies. His arm hurt even more now.

“I can ask Starfire to teach you how to control your powers,” Nightwing started. Danny has heard this spiel before, but this time he actually had a bit more trust in this random, and honestly somewhat terrifying stranger than he had with Plasmius. And Danny did not want to wait through it.

Danny grabbed Nightwing’s hand and looked up at them with the most pleading eyes he could muster. It worked as Nightwing’s face softened and they had finally shut up.

“Okay Nightgale, we’re going to go somewhere safe, then I’m going to get Starfire over to help you out, does that sound good?” When Nightwing asked that, Danny didn’t felt like he was being talked down to, unlike when other people said similar things. Maybe it was their tone.

“Where are we going? Where are we now?”

“Oh, right, I probably should’ve said that earlier. Well, for one we’re on the planet Earth, and right now we’re in Blüdhaven, New Jersey, the town I protect.”

“Protect?”

“Yeah, I’m a vigilante, which basically means I fight crime and protecting people who can’t protect themselves.”

Ah, now things started to make sense. This guy is a superhero. No wonder Danny felt oddly safe being with Nightwing. They just radiated safety-ness. Danny’s eyes lit up with glee, someone he could finally related to!

Even while slinking into the dirty, bloodstained shadows of Blüdhaven, Danny was skipping around Nightwing. He was in a weird place and situation, but he felt like a giddy kid. Nightwing moved with precision and grace that Danny wished he had.

Danny saw billboards and signs that seemed to mention other heroes as the two went. Random people calling out to Nightwing when they saw them, Nightwing sometimes giving them a little wave. Danny mimicked them, and each time the people gasped at him. Danny was able to pick up that these Tamaraneans that Nightwing thought he was weren’t common, so that’s probably why they looked so shocked.

It was nice, and for a moment, Danny forgot that he was a stranger to this world-that he wasn’t supposed to be here. This place was new and exciting, yet familiar all the same. Maybe he’ll stay a little longer, it’s not like he could just will himself to leave anyways.

For now, Danny was just a kid, exploring a world similar to his own, yet alien at the same time.

[pricklenettle]

The ectoimplosion is upon us! A strange, parasitic growth has visited Amity Park, it seems to have crept just about everywhere without anybody noticing. What obsessions drive it to keep growing?

I am so happy to finally share this, and the fic my partner @moipale wrote is so amazing! His fic blew all my expectations out of the water! Here is the Ao3 link: Haustorium, Amygdala

[redelliavalentinos]

I toyed with upgrading him one more time, but I opted not to because it's too much. And I don't think it's necessary.

[anonymousangstmonster]

Prompt #83 “Deaf and Blind”

The Fentons captured Phantom.

When they brought it to the lab, they waisted no time starting their experiments. The first of which had the result of injuring the ghost on such a deep level.

It was put in a ghost proof glass box, there were speakers and lights imbedded in the floor.

The test involved seeing how it would respond to a specific kind of light and a specific sound frequency that were both known to deter ghosts.

Once they turned it on, all Danny could hear was a loud droning screech and all he could see was white. He clutched his ears with his hands and closed his eyes as tight as he could.

It did nothing to stop the pain assaulting his senses.

It felt like whatever was hurting him had stopped, his vision was dark and all he could hear was a quiet ringing.

His throat felt sore, so he had probably been screaming; his legs were shaking, so he let them collapse and he fell to the floor in a heap; he felt that his core was strained, so he let himself revert to human form.

The Fenton parents were horrified when the ghost revealed itself to be their son, devastated by what they had just done to him.

He slowly realized that he couldn’t hear or see anything, that he was bleeding from his ears.

His parents had deafened and blinded him.

Maddie rushed over to him to try and comfort him. At first he thought she was Jazz come to rescue him, but she guided his hand to feel her short hair and goggles around her neck.

He cowered back into the corner of the box, frantically begging for them to stop, even though he couldn’t hear his own voice.

She tries to tell him that they won’t hurt him anymore by hugging him and and rubbing his back and kissing his forehead.

[scarletsaphire]

This is my fic for @ecto-implosion 2024 with my artist partner @kaidebat! You can find their incredible art here, go check them out!

---

Phantom comes back to Danny's workshop damaged. Luckily, Danny can fix him. He's the one who built him, after all.

--

Danny did not look up at the sound of metal against metal; that instinct had been phased out of him after spending his whole life around the rumbling of gears and the clanging of pistons. If he jumped at every mechanical squeak in his own workshop, he’d never get anything done.

He did, however, jump at the mechanical hand on his shoulder. He calmed down once he saw Phantom’s glowing green eyes. “How did it go?”

Phantom’s eyes darted down to his other arm in lieu of an answer, and Danny followed his gaze. The arm hung stiff at a 20 degree angle, a metal rod stuck in the elbow and sparks flying off of the shoulder. 

“Poorly, I take it.” Danny let the chain he’d been fiddling with fall to the desk. He could continue working on the project later; he had more important things to take care of right now. “Get comfortable. I just need to grab my stuff.”

It didn’t take him long to find the tools he would need and a small collection of spare parts; the clocktower he’d repurposed into his workshop was smaller than his parents, and he prided himself on being neater than they were. Not that he was complaining about their poor organizational habits; if they kept better track of their stuff, then he wouldn’t have a need for a workshop at all.

Phantom was sitting in one of two chairs, his functioning hand hovering around his throat and his face pointed up towards the inner face of the clock. He smiled at Danny as he set down his tools. 

Danny grabbed his own chair from his work desk and dragged it across the floor. “So, who got you this time?” He sat on Phantom’s right, tracing his finger over the cool metal of his arm. It was normally warmer, just above or below the temperature of a normal human, depending on how hard he’d been fighting. Cold to the touch meant the pipes were being interrupted. That wasn’t good.

Phantom did not reply.

Danny furrowed his brow, glancing up at Phantom’s face. He still had his good arm rubbing lightly at his throat. “You’re not talking.” That also wasn’t a good thing; Phantom was always talking. “Move your hand?”

It fell to his side with a clang, revealing a puncture in the metal. Steam leaked from the gash with a slow hiss, mirroring Danny’s own. “Ouch. Nicked your voice box, I assume?” 

Phantom began to tilt his head in a nod, but Danny grabbed his chin before he could. “Don’t! You could hurt yourself. Just-” 

It was a challenge, holding Phantom’s head still while maneuvering over him. 

Keeping his grip steady while climbing over the armrest was awkward, not to mention getting into a position where he could more clearly see into the gash was a tight squeeze on the small chair. It didn’t matter; he couldn’t let Phantom do anymore damage to himself.

The damage wasn’t as bad as it could be, mostly a surface level scratch. It was a miracle that it didn’t damage more; there was a lot of complicated machinery in Phantom’s neck, and if it had cut any deeper, Danny might’ve needed to do a full emergency reconstruction. 

“I think I can fix this right here.” Danny didn’t look up, reaching between the gap in the chair for his tool box. “You just need to stay very, very… still…” He trailed off as his hand wrapped around what he was looking for. 

There were three things he needed to worry about: the pipe, the voice box, and the surface metal. Danny’s first concern was the pipe. Steam leaked from it slowly but steadily, condensing on the surrounding metal and dripping further into his throat. He needed to take care of it quickly, before it interfered with the other parts. 

“I’m going to need to stop the flow to your head,” Danny mumbled. “I can’t fix this without burning myself otherwise. You okay with that?” His eyes darted up to meet Phantom’s.

He couldn’t talk, obviously. With Danny holding his chin, he couldn’t even nod. None of that mattered; Phantom’s eyes sparkled and Danny knew the answer as clearly as if he had spoken. “I trust you.”

Danny nodded, then got to work. 

It was not an easy process by any means. Having an off switch would’ve been far too much of a risk, what with everything he needed to be doing. In fact, Danny didn’t think there was a way to turn Phantom off, not completely. Even disabling a specific part or pipe was very, very difficult, and ideally no one would be able to get close enough to ever begin to figure it out. 

Danny didn’t need to figure it out. He knew exactly what to do, and exactly how to do it, just like he knew every cog, ever gear, every scrap of metal inside Phantom’s body. He’d spent far too much time building him to know anything less. 

A few moments later and Phantom’s head fell limp on Danny’s shoulder, his eyes still glowing faintly, darting around in the sockets. “You’re okay,” Danny whispered, shifting to once again grab Phantom’s face. “I’ve got you.” He held Phantom’s head up, tilting his head up by the chin to give him better access. “I’ll be as quick as possible.”

With the steam out of the way, Danny could make out the exact problems much, much easier. The puncture in the pipe was miniscule, so small that it would’ve been invisible to the untrained eye. Just enough to cause problems, but an easy one to fix. The voice box was in a worse state, but still manageable. The mechanisms that caused it to vibrate had remained undamaged, but was disconnected from the functional speaker. Tricky, but quick. The gash into the metal of the neck was a nonissue - if Danny had a nickel for every time he had to tear through Phantom’s “skin,” he’d be working with fresh, new metal, not scraps, and that wasn’t even considering how often the other automatons punctured it.

“I’m going to need two hands for this,” Danny said. The back of the chair was ever so slightly shorter than Phantom, which was a blessing; Danny settled his head on the back of the chair as delicately as he could. “Is that comfortable?” 

Phantom’s face remained perfectly still, his eyes staring directly into Danny’s, and the gears in his neck whirred. 

Danny shrugged. “Well, I can’t do much else for you, so it’ll have to do.” He grabbed his goggles from the work desk and a soldering iron from his bag. “Don’t try and talk while I’m working, ok? We don’t need both of us hurt.” He leaned towards Phantom’s neck, and started the repair.

There was something oddly comforting about poking around Phantom’s insides. Nostalgic, almost, which was stupid. Danny had only finished building Phantom a few months ago, and it was dumb to be nostalgic from something so recent. It didn’t change the fact that the inner workings of Phantom’s body were familiar, and working on them again - not just surface level repairs, but actually working in him - felt a little bit like returning home.

It made sense, in a way. Danny had spent more hours in the clocktower than he’d spent in his actual house, even before he’d started thinking of it as his workshop. So much of that time, all meticulously measured by the resounding hourly echoes of the bell, was spent working on Phantom - on blueprints and concept sketches, and then individual parts, all long before he’d ever even began to work on the body - of course it would be more familiar than his bedroom at home.

Thinking about it, Danny couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d spent a whole day in his house. It was before his parents started the construction, that was a given. There’s no way Danny would’ve been able to stay overnight with the racket they’d been making, even before they ever finished the first automaton.

He’d thought it was harmless, at first. The first ones had been. A couple of robots with funny shapes whose only real purpose was to prove that they worked, that through science and mechanical work his parents could create life , or at least a semblance of it. It was only after the fourth one that Danny got worried.

It had taken them months to perfect the shell of a kindly old lady, complete with a warm smile and the smallest of hunchbacks. 

“She’s here to help with meals!” his father had said, his arm thrown over the machine’s shoulders. “Make sure that we all stay fed while your mother and I work.”

“We can’t have our kids going hungry, now can we?” His mother smiled at them, and then the two of them had retreated back into the basement, leaving Danny and Jazz with the automaton. 

For an hour it had stood there, perfectly still, smile stretched across the metallic faceplate. The longer Danny stared at it, the further it went from warm to unsettling. When the clock struck noon, it only got worse.

“I-I-I-I-It’s lunch time!” she stuttered to life, wheels below her fake dress spurring her towards the kitchen. “Children need to e-e-e-eat three square meals a day!”

The two of them sat on the couch, watching from a safe distance as she banged around in the kitchen, making a comical amount of noise for the small sandwiches she brought to the table a few minutes later.

If it had ended there, it would’ve been great. If it had ended at the soup she brought out a little while later, that would’ve also been fine. If it had ended at the salad, or the brownies, or the pitcher of lemonade, that would’ve been excessive, but manageable. The problem was that it didn’t end at any of that. It didn’t end until every last possible ingredient in the kitchen had been used up, and even then it was only because Jazz took a bat to the things wheels when it tried to leave the house to get more food.

That was the problem with automatons. They never knew when to quit. They were created with one task in mind, and they would do anything to reach it, over and over and over again. It was only through destruction, when the damage to their physical bodies was too great for them to continue, that they would stop.

Danny’s parents cared about this problem, of course. It was an issue in their process, a barrier between real life and the artificial one they were trying to perfect. They just didn’t care enough not to make more.

It’s why Danny started designing Phantom in the first place; an automaton to make sure that the others don’t go haywire and hurt somebody. An automaton that wouldn’t stop trying to help people until there was no more help left to do. A protector that doesn’t need to worry about the damage the others could do, because he could be fixed. Because Danny could fix him. 

“Done.” 

He removed his goggles, letting them settle around his neck while he inspected the patch. He’d needed to open the gash further to access Phantom’s inner workings, which meant that it couldn’t just be welded shut. The square of scrap metal was a different color than the rest of Phantom’s body, but not noticeably so; at least, Danny hoped not.  

“Go ahead and say something.”

“Testing, testing, one two three.” Phantom’s voice came through clearly, with only the slightest bit of static from the speaker. 

“It sounds good to me. Is it comfortable?”

Phantom hummed. “Much better than before.”

“Yeah, well, a monkey with a brick could’ve made it feel better than before.”

Phantom’s laugh was warm and crackly, as if the speaker couldn’t transmit all of the feeling in it. “You’re selling yourself short again.”

“Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that.” Danny rolled his eyes. “I’m going to power your upper motor functions back up, and then I’ll deal with your arm. Sound good?”

“Everything you say sounds good.”

The soft thud of flesh hitting metal resounded as Danny playfully slapped Phantom’s shoulder. “I could just turn you all the way off if you want to be like that.”

“But you won’t.” Phantom couldn’t turn his head to look at Danny, but he could feel the automaton’s burning gaze on him anyway. 

He couldn’t help the soft smile that spread across his face. “But I won’t.”

Phantom’s first move after getting powered on was to roll his head, testing the new metal patch. It held, bending with the rest of Phantom, blending into the fluid motion as if it was skin. “It’s good.”

Danny’s smile widened. “Wonderful. Means I can get started on the bigger problem.” He moved to slide off of Phantom’s lap, only to be met by his metallic arm, holding him in place.

"You can fix it from here, can't you?"

Danny was suddenly struck by the warmth emanating through Phantom's body, the subtle vibration of hidden mechanisms working inside of him, and Phantom's hand, settled in the crook of his hip, holding him firm. He’s sitting in Phantom’s lap. He’s been sitting in Phantom’s lap for the better part of an hour now. 

If Phantom were alive, it would’ve been an incredibly intimate position. But he wasn’t alive. He was an automaton, nothing but metal and steam. It couldn’t be intimate.

So why did Danny suddenly feel so warm?

 "Um. I can?

"Then stay." Phantom lets his grip loosen ever so slightly, but he didn’t pull his arm away. The only movement was to gently rub the small section of skin just under Danny’s shirt. "Please."

It was Danny's turn to burn far, far too hot. “I don’t- I-.” Danny swallowed hard, trying to will away the feeling of Phantom’s fingers on his back. “I don’t know if I can… focus very well. Sitting here.”

Phantom looked up at Danny, staring directly into his eyes. “I have faith in you.”

Danny breathed in the smell of the workshop, letting the piercing scent of metal cut through him. He blocked out the feeling of Phantom’s fingertips on his back, the feeling of his cheeks flushed and red, and the feelings rushing through his head far, far too quickly for him to process. Phantom was hurt. He was hurt and Danny needed to help him before he could deal with…whatever was wrong.

Removing the pipe lodged in Phantom’s arm was a clear step one. Ideally, the job would be as simple as grabbing and pulling, but that would depend on how it was bent, and what exactly it was lodged between. Danny bent to the side, reaching into his toolbox on the floor and ignoring the way that Phantom’s fingers slid further up his back. He tightened his grip around his screwdriver and straightened, then got to work removing the arm plates.

Undoing the screws was easy, repetitive, and time consuming, and Danny couldn’t stop his mind from wandering. Something was… off. Not just the weird fluttering in his stomach as Phantom’s hand slowly migrated from his back to his thigh. Something was off about Phantom himself. It was only after Danny had managed to get the first panel unscrewed that he realized what was bothering him.

Phantom wanted something. 

He had wanted things in the past, of course. Upgrades and repairs and disguises and techniques to help him stop the other automatons, or to help repair damage, or a dozen other things. A dozen other things all related to helping . 

That’s why he was created, to help. To help stop the destruction his parent’s experiments wrought, and to help restore what he couldn’t stop, but always to help. As far as Danny had figured, he couldn’t want anything outside of that. 

But here he was. Asking Danny to stay sitting on his lap, even though it would slow the repair. Even though it had nothing to do with a threat. Something was wrong. Or maybe Phantom had a reason for asking, something that made sense within his metallic brain that Danny just couldn’t compute. 

“Tell me about the fight?” That was a safe topic, and Danny could gather information from it. Maybe there was something that happened that caused this weird behavior?

Phantom sighed in a small puff of steam. “Must I? I was savoring the moment.”

Danny’s hands stalled for just a second before continuing their work. “You don’t want to talk about it?”

Phantom was quiet for a moment, his thumb rubbing absentminded circles. “I can if you need me to.”

“I’m more curious about why you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Like I said, I am savoring the moment.” 

Danny turned his eyes to Phantom’s face for a moment, studying it from the corner of his vision. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that Phantom was zoned out. That he was telling the truth. But Danny did know better; that shouldn’t be possible.

“Are you okay?”

“Besides the obvious, I assume?”

Danny realized he’d stopped working again, and quickly went back to removing the last arm panel. “Yeah. Besides that.”

“I don’t believe I suffered any other damages.” Phantom frowned ever so slightly. “Have you noticed something I haven’t?”

Danny turned his eyes back to his hands. Should he say anything? Phantom had never lied about his injuries before, and if he said that he didn’t think anything was wrong, he was telling the truth as he knew it. Of course, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t damaged in some way that Phantom didn’t know. If Danny told him, then they could try and figure out what was wrong together. Unless whatever was wrong was messing with his head and had some kind of self preservation built in. 

“You said you wanted me to stay.” He wouldn’t be able to figure out anything if Phantom couldn’t help him, not when so many of these problems lied within internal reasoning. “What purpose does that serve you?”

Phantom tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Does it need to serve a purpose?” 

“Of course it needs to serve a purpose!” The final panel of Phantom’s arm fell to floor with a clatter, punctuating Danny’s statement. “You’re an automaton. Everything needs to serve a purpose. That’s part of what you are, how you work.”

The green glow of Phantom’s eyes burn bright and hot, but Danny did not look away, did not blink in the face of the fire. “Is that truly what you think?”

“I don’t need to think about it, I know it! I know it because I know every inch of you, every cog and gear and piston and screw. I know it just like I know that you’ll be just fine when I do this.” Danny grabbed a hold of the pipe’s top part and pulled, generating a horrible grating metal sound. It finally came out with a pop. “I know you, Phantom. And I know that this isn’t normal, and if something is wrong I can fix it.”

“I don’t think you know me as well as you think you do.” 

“How can you-” Danny was cut off by Phantom leaning forward, metallic lips pressing against his own. 

It was strange. Danny knew these lips, had worked for days and days to sculpt them and make them mobile. Having them pressed against his own, feeling those infinitesimal motions on his skin, the slightest feeling of steam drifting through the space between them? It was something else entirely, something completely foreign and yet so much like home. It was almost instinct to kiss back.

Phantom’s hand, now free from the pipe, raised to the back of Danny’s neck. It made an ugly sound as it moved, slow and sluggish without the final repairs put in place, but neither of them seemed to care right now. When Phantom finally pulled away, Danny was staring at him wide eyed and open mouthed.

“I have wanted to do that for as long as I can remember, and I know you didn’t know that.”

Danny blinked slowly, his own hand raising to his lips, his mind lagging behind his body. “I- I don’t.” He swallowed, trying to buy himself a moment to catch up. “How? How are you…?”

Danny trailed off, and Phantom continued. “How am I like this?” Danny nodded. “I have no idea. I just… am.”

“You’ve always been different.” Danny’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. “I just didn’t realize… how much.”

“And I never told you.”

“Why not?”

Phantom finally looked away from Danny. “I was worried. That you would deconstruct me. Try and make me more like them.”

Danny grabbed Phantom’s chin, just like he’d done to fix his neck, but now it had a different air to it. More delicate. More human. “I’m not going to do that to you. Not now, not ever.”

Phantom smiled. “Thank you.” A moment of silence, before, “Now what?”

Danny dropped Phantom’s chin to crack his knuckles. “Now I finish fixing your arm.”

“And then?”

“We’ll figure that out then. Hold still, will you?”

“Whatever you need.” Phantom’s smile grew and Danny couldn't help but return it.

[surelysilly]

oct 16th: death echoes

It should've been an easy salt and burn to lay a couple spirits to rest. All it took was a couple stakeout sessions, not even a full day digging through the local library's obituaries, and they had their ghosts — two of the three local teens killed in a fiery lab explosion: Tucker Foley and Sam Manson. 

part 1 / part 2 (here)

the lost and forgotten kids (lead them toward other tomorrows)

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Danny Phantom, Supernatural (TV 2005)

Rating: T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply  

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Mild Language, Hurt No Comfort, Angst, Harm to Children, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Danny Fenton Died in The Portal Accident, Full Ghost Danny Fenton, Dead Sam Manson, Dead Tucker Foley, Danny Fenton Has an Electric Ghost Core

Summary:

Dean thinks Amity Park could be a cute, idyllic city if it wasn't haunted.

And by haunted, he means that metaphorically and literally. Nothing he can do about the first thing, but the second? Well, here's hoping him and Sam don't go breaking their streak on such a straightforward case.

(Or, an atypical salt and burn blurs the line between monster and not. Lab safety first, kids!)