#What? Does your PDA already work on ectoplasm? (who still uses pdas?)

[lolottes]

@transgressionsunmoonwizzard tag

I didn't know this story!!! Could someone talk about it or give me the name of the character in question!

we have parallels to do!!!

new DP/DC couple (at least that I haven't seen yet)

Constantine / Tucker

both monster fucker

Tucker fanon is poly: he would totally be the type to encourage Constantine to tell him about his other relationships and encourage him to continue to be THE monster fucker DC

hot clue that tucker is the type to like them slightly older

A couple's argument about how magic works despite the fact that their two ways of doing things resulted in small miracles

Constantine who begins to take out (with reluctance) strange gadgets from his trench coat that he refuses to reveal the origin of. Constantine absolutely does not want to talk to them about Tucker or that technology/technomancie exists and works.

The relationship can remain platonic or queerplatonic but I think this duo has relational and comic potential. So much potential :') but curse

[five-rivers]

Snow and Song Chapter 5

About five seconds after Danny registered the huge crowd of people gathered in the park (and why were they there?  Had there been some kind of event he forgot about?), it began to snow.   Danny looked around himself in alarm.  He was often insensitive to temperature changes (and a few other things, according to his sister), but it wasn’t nearly cold enough snow.  It was September.

He looked up.  There weren’t even any clouds.  

A snowflake, perfect and crystalline, stuck to his eyelash.  

Alright.  When something weird and unnatural started to happen in Amity Park, usually there was a ghost involved.  All Danny had to do was find the ghost causing it to… snow…

Oh.  Right. He was a ghost that could make snow.  

He was an idiot.  He hadn’t even noticed his core activating.  His cheeks flushed with cold.  This was so embarrassing.

Wincing, he looked back down at the crowd.  Only about a tenth of the people had phones in their hands, winking camera lenses pointed up at him, but that was more than enough.  He felt entirely too visible.  

… Which he could fix because he was a ghost, darn it, something that he kept forgetting about tonight.  Berating himself, he adjusted his visibility down to zero and flew away.  

Almost at once, all the birds took off, the sound of wings obscuring whatever the humans down below were saying.  

Danny didn’t stop until he got home, trailing snow all the while.  He was not looking forward to tomorrow, but for tonight, maybe, he could forget what had happened.  

He went human, phased off his clothes, laid down on his bed, closed his eyes, and started to-

“Maddie!” shouted Jack.  “The ghost-kid is on TV again!  He’s in the park!”

“Oh, good!  Go start up the GAV!  This time, we’ll catch him!  I’ll be with you in a minute!”

Danny let out the breath he had been holding since his dad startled him from his doze in a long sigh.  He resigned himself to being woken up at least once more that night.

.

.

.

The first rays of sunlight filtering through Danny’s window brought with them something that would have chilled Danny to the core if his core weren’t naturally frosty.  

Music.  

He peeled his eyes open slowly, grudgingly, because it was still September, and sunrise was still quite a bit before the time he had to get up in the morning.  Hoping he was hallucinating, he trudged over to the window and pulled back the curtains.

Ah, yes.  He hadn’t quite expected to find a bunch of cultists standing outside his house with a boombox, playing back a rather scratchy version of Tale as Old as Time, but, somehow, he was unsurprised to do so.  What exactly were they attempting to accomplish here?

One of the younger (about six years old) cultists waved up at him.  Resigned, Danny waved back, then let the curtain fall back down.  

He rubbed his eyes.  Normal teenagers didn’t have to deal with cults that worshiped them as a god.  Even that dude from Nazareth was a full adult before he got hit with the heavy stuff.  

(Yeah, because it wasn’t at all a sign of megalomania, mental instability, or good old-fashioned insanity to compare himself to that guy.)

(He didn’t want a cult, darn it.)

What did they want, anyway?

He got dressed and started downstairs.  To his horror (but again, not surprise) he heard more music emanating from the kitchen.  

“What are you guys doing?” Danny asked.  

“Oh, morning, Danno!” boomed Jack.

“Shh, shh,” said Maddie.  “We need to go over that last part again.  There are pancakes on the stove, sweetie.”

“Oh,” said Danny.  “Thanks. But, really, what are you doing?”

“Analyzing the sound patterns of Phantom’s voice!” said Jack.  “We missed it before, but he must have a low-level mind control power!  Just like that Rockstar ghost!”

“Sneaky post-human ectoplasm glob,” muttered Maddie. “That’s how he’s got so many people on his side.  He’s brainwashing them.  But don’t worry, sweetie.  As soon as we figure out how he’s doing it, we’ll be working on a cure!”

“Well,” said Danny, trying not to sound bitter. They had made him pancakes. “That’s news to me.”

.

.

.

Danny stepped out of the house and sighed in the general direction of the cult.  

As always, acknowledging them in any way shape or form proved to be a mistake.  They rushed at him.  

“Daniel Fenton,” intoned today’s leader, a man wearing robes colored in an approximation of Phantom’s suit.  His beard was… interesting.

“What?” asked Danny.  If only there was a way to skip through awkward conversations like this, like there was in video games.  But, no, life was like one, huge, un-skippable cutscene.  Tragic.

“Last night, our Lord Phantom gave us a message. A message, and a divine task.”

Danny was pretty sure he’d remember that.  “What task?” he asked, resigned.

“To spread his word through song!  And you, his prophet, his chosen, his blessed consort, shall reveal his intent upon the stage of the Casper High School Musical!”

“I’m begging you, call it anything but that.”

“We will do anything to make the Casper High School Musical go well!  We are at your command!”

“Please stop picketing my house and harassing me on the way to school.”

“We have fine members of our choir here to audition for you!  Please take word of their worthiness to our Lord Phantom.”

Several of the cultists began to sing.

“Danny!” called Jazz from the driveway.  “Stop feeding the cultists, or we’re going to be late for school!”

.

.

.

“So,” said Sam.  “The Ghost Watch feed blew up last night.”

“I know,” said Danny.  “I feel so stupid.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” said Tucker.  “But we really do have to put some time aside to test whether or not you really do have a pied piper ability.”

“I made it snow while I was singing,” said Danny.

“Ah.  We’ll have to look into that, too,” said Tucker, making a note on his PDA.  “Who wants to bet that the ‘Phan Club’ will try to incorporate last nights performance into the play somehow?”

“That’s not funny,” said Danny, closing his locker. “Guys, what if I accidently mind control the audience?  Or start a snowstorm inside?  The cultists are already on top of this.  They were outside my house this morning.”

“Again?” said Sam, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, again.”

“What did they want?”

“They seem to think that there’s going to be some kind of revelation in the play,” said Danny.  He caught the look in Sam’s eye.  “Sam.  No.”

“Sam, yes.”

“Cults are not a toy,” cautioned Danny.  

“Not the way you’re using them, they aren’t.”

“Seriously, Sam.  No matter how much you want to change the world, do not use a cult to do it. It never goes well.”

“Christianity started off as a cult.”

“And would you say that went well?  I’m asking you this as a Christian.”

“Are you a Christian?” asked Tucker. “I’ve never seen you in a church. Can you go in a church? Have we tested that?”

“I—What?  I’m not a demon, Tucker.  I went to church, uh…  Last Easter. I can totally go in a church.”

“You had to think of that for an awfully long time.”

“What about a synagogue?” asked Sam.  “Or a mosque?”

“I don’t know.  But you’d think that if I could go into a church, that’d mean I could go into the other ones.”

“But what if you couldn’t?” asked Sam.  “Would that mean that religion is more right than the others?”

“Or more wrong,” said Tucker, “since Danny is a good guy.”                                                                  

“I—” started Danny.

“PHANTOM!” screamed Wes from down the hall, interrupting whatever revelation Danny could potentially have had.

“Oh, great,” said Danny.  “I’m not Phantom, Weston!”

“Kids,” said Miss Lyn, poking her head into the hallway.  “Please don’t shout in the halls.  Class is about to start.”

“I have proof, this time!” crowed Wes.  “I have video.”

“Oh, no,” said Danny, with perfectly flat affect. “Are you here to harass me with yet another badly photoshopped, grainy, vertically filmed, twenty-second clip of me ‘transforming’ into Phantom like some kind of anime heroine?”

Wes reared back, face coloring and nostrils flaring.  

Danny would feel worse about what he had said, if half the videos in Wes’s last ‘Fenton is Phantom’ presentation hadn’t been exactly that.  Tucker had made several of them and stealthily dropped them in various chat rooms for Wes to find, as something halfway between a joke and an exercise in misdirection.  

As soon as Wes had included one of those in his presentation, it was doomed to be a laughingstock.  Again, Danny almost felt bad.  

“No!” said Wes.  He puffed his chest out.  “From Ghost Watch!”

“Uh huh.”

“I kind of feel like we’d be hearing about it from more than just you,” said Sam.  

“Yeah,” agreed Tucker.  “If the news decided Danny was Phantom’s dead twin or whatever, you’d think some of his groupies would be swarming.”  He pointed at a pair of Phan Club members who were having a sedate conversation near the water fountain.  “Where are the groupies, Wes?”

“Did you not learn your lesson from the beauty pageant?” asked Sam.  “Or Egypt?”

“I don’t know, didn’t you learn yours from Desiree?”

“Who’s learning what from Desiree?  Because you should ask her for a better naming sense.  I mean, you just copied.  Lame.”

“You’re talking to me about copying?  You vegans are the copiers!  Vegetable burgers, tofurkey, where does it end?”

“With the abolition of the cruelty of MEAT!”

At this point, most people would have started edging away from Sam and Tucker’s patented and infamous meat vs. veggies argument.  However, Wes had long since proven himself to be of sterner stuff, and Danny wanted to hear what he was on about.

“Guys,” he said, “guys, it’s not working.  He’s still here.”

Sam and Tucker turned back towards Wes.  “Bummer,” said Sam.  

“Yeah, Wes, why do you have to be such a bummer?” asked Tucker.  

“Let him speak,” said Danny, magnanimously, twirling his hand.  

Wes glowered.  “Well, now I don’t want to,” he said, mulishly.  

“Come on, Wes, what’s the video, don’t leave us in suspense!”

Wes attempted to glower harder but failed.  Grudgingly, he held up his phone, which did, indeed, play a video from Ghost Watch.  Danny watched himself singing for several long seconds before returning his gaze to Wes.

“I’m not sure what this is supposed to prove.”

“The song, you idiot!  It’s from Beauty and the Beast!  And I know the drama club gave you that music.”

“A movie that thousands of thousands of people have watched and know the music for?”

“That doesn’t matter!  You’re the only one who has any reason to sing it.”

“You mean, other than everyone else in the drama club?” asked Sam, bored.  

“Or anyone who likes Disney?” said Tucker.  

Wes opened his mouth to make some kind of riposte.

The warning bell rang.  

He closed his mouth.  “I’m watching you, Fenton!”

“You and everyone else,” muttered Danny as Wes retreated down the hallway, pointing at him.  

Why was everyone around him so ridiculous?

.

.

.

“We’re doing Snow White, not Beauty and the Beast!” howled Razor, baring his teeth at the hapless Phan Club member that had suggested adding ‘Tale as Old as Time’ to the song list.

“If you guys had taken that bet, I’d have so much money right now,” said Tucker.  

“Students, please,” said Mr. Lancer.  “We can’t have any actual copyrighted music in our play. Not without paying for it.  And I’m not negotiating with Disney.”  He looked into the distance.  “Not again.  Never again.”

Danny did not want to know the story behind that, but nevertheless, he had to ask… “Are you okay, Mr. Lancer?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Fenton,” said Mr. Lancer.  “Thank you for asking.  In any case, my lovely drama students!  Today, we are going to do our first round of auditions!”

“But, sir, we haven’t finished the script, yet!” protested Mikey.

“Right you are!” said Mr. Lancer.  “But I have found that things go more smoothly when we have people already in the main roles.  There’s less… outright sabotage and script jockeying.”

“What does that even mean?” whispered Samhain (aka Kevin) loudly.  

“People trying to change the script to fit a certain person so that person gets the role,” said Paulina.  “Or exclude a certain person.  Which I would never do, Mr. Lancer.”

The covetous glare shot in Danny’s direction indicated that Paulina’s words might have been less than truthful.  

Mr. Lancer chuckled.  “I didn’t think you would, Miss Sanchez!”  He began writing on his whiteboard.  “Now, we already have our Prince Snow White, our Princess Charming, and our Evil Queen.”  He nodded at Paulina as he wrote the roles on the board.  “Now, we need our seven dwarves—”

“Ghosts!”

“Excuse me, yes, ghosts.  Thank you, Mr. Baxter.  Our Huntsman—”

“Or woman!”

“Yes, thank you, Miss Thunder,” said Mr. Lancer. “Huntsman, or Huntswoman.  And… Let’s see…  Snow White’s parents, for the prologue, Princess Charming’s retinue, and… I think that’s it.  Alright, let’s start with the ghosts.”

“Shouldn’t they have names?” asked Mia.  

“Well, sure,” said Mr. Lancer.  “But we can’t use the Disney names.  You’ll have to come up with your own.”

“Phantom!” screamed Paulina.

“Here we go,” said Danny, burying his head in his hands.  

“You want to bet that we’re going to wind up with your whole rogue’s gallery?” asked Tucker.  

“If you need money, Tucker,” said Sam, “you just have to ask.  Rates on my loans are very reasonable.”

“Isn’t usury against your religion?” asked Tucker.

“Nope,” said Sam.  “Not at all.”

“I am incredibly against this development,” said Danny.  “The cults are going to have a field day.”

“Ember!  Ember! Ember!”  Chanted the punk goth crowd, which had split off from the larger goth subgroup.

“I am somehow even more against this development,” muttered Danny.  “Mr. Lancer! I don’t think it’s a good idea to include a ghost who gets power from people saying her name!”

“Shut up, Fentonnage, what do you know about ghosts?”

“My parents study them.  I know a lot.  More than I ever even—”

Danny narrowly dodged the workbook Dash flung at him.

“Mr. Baxter!” scolded Mr. Lancer.  

Sadly, when everything shook out, Danny did not get his way.  One of the seven ghosts was named Ember and was going to be played by Star.  Because why not?

“At least the Box Ghost and the Lunch Lady aren’t on the list,” said Sam.  

“But ‘Hamlet, father of Hamlet,’ is,” said Danny.  “Why does that bother me more than Ember?”

“Because you hate Shakespeare?”

“No, I don’t,” protested Danny.  “Shakespeare is a perfectly nice person.  I just don’t like how his writing is taught in schools.”

“You’re going to break Mr. Lancer’s heart saying stuff like that,” said Tucker.  

“He wrote love poems to boys.  Why do they skim over that?”

“Excellent point, Mr. Fenton!” exclaimed Mr. Lancer, who had somehow materialized behind them.  “Shakespeare was definitely bisexual.  I wi—”  The teacher stopped.  “Nope, can’t use that word.  It would be nice if the state let me teach it like that.  Along with the crossdressing.  School board won’t let me.”  He shook his head.  “Dale Baxter. Someday, someday he’ll lose an election. Eventually.”  He took a deep breath.  “Next time we meet, we’ll be doing auditions, okay?  I want you all to think about what parts you would like! And, Miss Gray, I’d like to have a word with you about your role in our production, alright?”

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Phanniemay 2018 - Day 3

Yes, yes, I know Phanniemay is over, but I wanted to at least post the prompts I did get through. I had this grand plan to finish and post them all the last week of May, but then things got crazy, I needed major eye surgery, and I’m only just now being able to stare at my screen long enough to be able to proofread and edit my things. It’s been a long few days, y’all. Still, I hope you enjoy what I do have!

Prompt: Ghost Tech

Alternate Universe: Post show, no Phantom Planet, Trio age ~17

Rating: G+

Author Notes: It’s so fun playing with Tucker’s point of view, honestly. I love it.

Summary: Tucker knows that he isn’t the best and brightest out there, but he’s starting to understand just how big a gap there is between where he is and where he needs to be. There’s only one person that can help him, but man, it couldn’t be anyone else?

Don’t forget I’m doing more cool things on my Patreon all the time! I also have a Ko-Fi so consider buying me a coffee if you can’t pledge!

Click here to see the other stories I’ve done for Phanniemay this month.

::

“Yes, Danny, those are all the notes you need for the final tomorrow. I told you, I recorded the lectures, too. Although you probably won’t listen to them.”

“No one ever listens to the recorded lectures!” Letting Danny’s complaints wash over him, Tucker sighed softly and managed a bit of a smile. He’d take a complaining Danny over an unmoving one any day. “I miss three days of school and suddenly they think I’m going to go from C’s and B’s to A’s.”

“I think Lancer just wants you to pass, if it helps. He gave me about twenty sheets of notes to give to you when I told him I was collecting your homework.” Three days. Three days of Danny holed up at home and his parents just as unsure as them because they weren’t- They were scientists and Tucker and Sam were kids. None of them were doctors. “How are you doing?”

“Same as when you asked ten minutes ago, buddy. I’m fine, honestly. I think the last of it is finally clearing up.” The Fentons had figured it was some ghost version of the flu virus, but Tucker was going to bet it was something else considering how Danny had been throwing up ectoplasm at some points and he was burning up- He had ice powers and his fever had been out of control. “Where are you, anyways? The wind is going crazy on your end.”

“Just walking to that parts store to fix up the thermos again,” Tucker lied easily, trying to push the memories away. He never wanted to think on that time again - him, Danny, and Sam all curled up in a freezing cold shower, Danny shaking to pieces between them and sobbing roughly. “I wanted to fiddle with my PDA a bit more, too. Sam’s coming by later-”

“Ugh, yes, she’ll be here in half an hour.” Even through the groaning, Tucker could tell Danny was grinning. “And you need to chill out on all that tech stuff. It wasn’t your fault and you know it.”

“Sam should have her own notes if mine aren’t making sense. I’ll call you after I’m done, okay?” Not his fault. Yeah, right. He was supposed to be- When his tech failed, then what good was he?

“Yeah, okay. And that ghost getting out wasn’t your fault, Tuck. Me getting sick wasn’t your fault, either. Honestly, and you two call me hero-complexed.”

“Later, buddy,” Tucker laughed, hanging up the phone and letting his smile dropped as he stopped in front of the gates that blocked the path up to a ridiculously huge mansion. “Right. Now or never then, huh?”

Swallowing down his fear, which was pretty damn great, Tucker pressed the call button and nervously cleared his throat when he was asked to identify himself. “Uh, hi, Mr. Masters Plasmius sir? I, um- You probably don’t know me, but I’m a friend of Danny’s. Tucker Foley?”

There was a sharp, loud buzz before the gates opened rather dramatically, Tucker staring before making a face. “I had hoped we could just exchange phone numbers or something.” The gates started to close and Tucker swore before quickly running through them, near losing his shirt in the process. “Okay! Thank you! For, uh, seeing me, I guess?”

Nothing was coming up out of the ground and shooting at him, at least, and Plasmius wasn’t appearing to break his and Danny’s new truce and kidnap Tucker and use him as a bargaining chip, so that was good! That- That was very good.

Getting to the front door after a walk up a drive that was long enough to make Tucker regret every single choice in his life, he swallowed all of his fear and pride and gave a light, quiet knock. The door opened near at once.

“Ah, Mr. Foley. To what do I owe the pleasure of conversing with one of Daniel’s idiosyncratic acquaintances?” Okay, Tucker understood all of those words separately. Maybe.

“Hey, Mr. Masters Plasmius sir.” Being polite never hurt, right? At least Tucker wasn’t calling him Fruitloop. Danny would have found it great, but Danny wasn’t here to protect him from being killed. “I, uh, I had a question I kind of wanted to ask you?”

“How unfortunate for you that I seem to be all out of answers. Do make sure the gates shut on your way out.” Seeing the door start to close, Tucker took a page from Danny’s book and impulsively jumped forward to slip inside before it fully shut, flashing Plasmius a weak grin. “Would you rather the police escort you out?”

“Please, we both know I have at least three things on me that could revert you back to your ghost form.” Okay, Tucker, just breathe in and out and don’t think about the fact that he was threatening Plasmius.

“Daniel and his friends,” Plasmius muttered dryly, door shutting with a snap. “Speak quickly. I might be in a truce with Daniel, but that does not meant I am here to play mentor to his little friends.”

“Right.” Tucker was starting to see what Danny meant about punching Plasmius when spending longer than ten seconds around him. “I want to ask if you would teach me more about building and using ghost hunting technology.”

“Excuse me.” Yeah, wow, no, that was not a good look Tucker was getting right then. Okay. Right. Deep breath. Doing this for Danny. Danny who would do the same thing if their situations were reversed - and probably more. Ugh. Okay. Right.

“Please teach me more about building and using ghost weapons. Everything you’d be willing to teach me.” Yeah, wow, no, the look got worse. “This isn’t a joke or a ploy to get more information, I swear. It’s just- I need to know.”

“And just why, Mr. Foley, do you need to know these things? As far as I was aware you do not have any ghost powers to worry about. Your family is not in the business of hunting or detaining ghosts. You have no part in this world-”

“Fuck you.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, Tucker horrified when Plasmius’ eyes flashed red.

“Excuse me.” Okay, right, here was where he begged for forgiveness.

“I said fuck. You.” Except he had been spending too much time around his outspoken friends and this was… He couldn’t back down from this. “You can’t say this isn’t my world when I haven’t been out there every night since I was fourteen helping my best friend defend the town from monsters.”

“If you truly think ghosts are monsters-” Tucker didn’t even let him finish, just talking louder and bolder.

“They are when they attack my town and everyone in it just for fun! I was pulled into this fight and maybe I didn’t have to join it, but I sure as hell can’t leave it. I need to learn more about this technology and how to use it. I can’t just stand by and pretend this is all some game or afterschool activity when my friend could die any day!”

“He’s already dead.” It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room and it took everything Tucker had to not shake himself to pieces. “Whatever life Daniel had ended the moment he stepped through that portal. He may not be completely dead, but who he was certainly died.”

“Bullshit.” The red eyes weren’t so scary anymore. Not when he remembered what had just almost happened because he - because Tucker - wasn’t good enough. “And if it is true, then my life ended with his and I’m just as big a part of this as he is.”

“Are you really?” Drawing himself up, Tucker nodded as strong as he could. He wasn’t scared. Not when he knew that this might be the only way to get stronger.

“I can’t fight. I can’t do what Danny does, but I will run myself to the ground helping him as best I can. Danny’s not just my best friend. He’s- He’s my brother. We’ve been by each other’s sides since we were five. I’m not leaving him now. I can’t fight, but I can do other things. I’m good with tech, but I’m not good enough. I need to get better.”

“So you come to me. Why not go to Daniel’s parents? They have the technology as well - in fact, I rather believe that’s where you’ve been getting your own equipment these days.”

“Used to. I build everything myself now.” If Tucker was any crazier, then he might have admitted that he saw pride in Plasmius’ eyes. “I need to get better. Danny’s strong, but there are stronger things out there. You wouldn’t have made a truce with him if there wasn’t.”

“Mm.” Plasmius stared at him for a second more before turning and walking away, Tucker feeling every ounce of hope jerked out of him. “You could have merely studied their blueprints.”

“I did. I need to get better and you know how ghosts work. They don’t, yet.” Tucker watched Plasmius not even stop as he glanced back to him.

“Well? I’ll only waste so much of my time with this venture, Mr. Foley.” Wait- That was- Oh, holy shit.

“Yes sir, Mr. Masters Plasmius sir.” Tucker was running after him at once and while he still had the feeling he was about to be stabbed in the back, he at least knew he would learn something while he was there. Maybe this was what interns felt like for supervillains. Hm. That actually seemed rather accurate. “I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

“We’ll see.” Yes, he would.