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hannahmanderr · 11 months ago

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HAPPY TRUCE!!! @cattherobot had some amazing prompts, and it was so much fun to get to think about this one! I really hope you enjoy the direction it ended up taking!!

And a HUGE shoutout to @scarletsaphire for helping me figure out all the dream/Nocturne stuff, she is The Person to go to for anything and everything Nocturne!!! Enjoy the Starry Eyed Dreamer propaganda! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Danny woke up.

His breath caught in his throat as his body tried to reorient itself. The sensation of falling was nothing new to him, between flying and getting knocked out of the sky during fights, but waking up to that feeling of being yanked out of sleep was always unpleasant.

Something cold coiled in his mouth and throat.

He was up and sitting in an instant. Or, rather, he tried to sit up.

Because he really was falling.

Panic seized him. He began to flail, trying to gain control over his momentum and steer his body into flight. Those efforts quickly proved fruitless.

What was probably more panic-inducing than his inability to control his fall was the fact that he couldn’t open his eyes. As if someone had glued them shut. He tried desperately to lift his eyelids, but they felt like dead weight.

Darkness swallowed him into its impenetrable folds, refusing to let him go. It was as if he could feel it surrounding him, wrapping him in a cool, heavy weight.

His core, apparently, did not approve. It sparked to life in his chest, sending a jolt through him. Danger, it seemed to whisper at him. Threat. Enemy.

With a yell, he let his core expand and wash over him in his transformation. At least, he thought he changed. He could only just barely see the light of his transformation rings behind his eyelids.

His instincts were screaming at him to fight back against this unseen villain - because it had to be a ghost, he’d felt his ghost sense, right? - and so he did. Ectoplasmic energy coursed through his veins and into his hands, and though he couldn’t see, he could feel its cold pooling in his palms.

He yelled again and unleashed the energy all at once. Kept unleashing it. Fired off blast after blast of as strong an energy as he could muster in his dazed, still half-asleep haze. Anything to ward off the darkness encroaching on him and surround himself in the light.

That darkness sang to him, something he couldn’t understand, something low and subdued. It wasn’t doing his haze any favors. If anything, it made it harder to concentrate. Like it was trying to lull him back into sleep or something.

Now that was a terrifying thought. His core wholeheartedly agreed.

And so he didn’t hold back. In a final fit of desperation to free himself, he allowed the energy to surround not just his hands, but his whole body. He concentrated, drawing on his core to feed into it. It wasn’t long before his entire body felt like he’d shot espresso directly into his veins, if espresso could be ice cold and electrifying.

When his body couldn’t contain it anymore, he didn’t try. It ripped through him in one fell swoop, leaving him feeling breathless.

And he opened his eyes. Sitting in his bed. Still in human form. As if it hadn’t happened.

But his breath betrayed the illusion. He sat there, panting deeply as his blood slowly warmed his body.

“What the heck?” he whispered to himself. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ It happened again a few nights later.

Truth be told, for as strange and frightening as it had been the first time, the experience had somehow slipped his mind. Between a super important history exam, a tumble with Ember, and three - no, four exploded inventions (one of which may or may not have been his fault), he didn’t exactly have the room in his brain to remember properly.

His forgetfulness made the second time around equally as terrifying as the first.

He woke up the same - falling blindly, the remnants of something cold in his mouth and throat, unable to open his eyes. Instinctively, he began flailing his arms and legs. Not that it would do any good, he realized belatedly, but he couldn’t help it.

He opened his mouth to shout and immediately found himself choked by the darkness as it flooded in. It filled his mouth, his throat, his lungs, cutting off his ability to breathe.

Panic began to set in again. His human instincts were going hysterical from the fall and the fact that he was apparently drowning in the darkness. His ghost instincts had already jumped into “fight” mode, screaming at him to fend off the enemy surrounding him.

What enemy though?

It was impossible to tell through the thick darkness. The only thing he knew about this unseen foe was the sweet song being sung to his core, the one that felt like a lullaby, ebbing and flowing like waves on a beach. The part of him still resisting its pull wanted to cry.

How could he fight an enemy he couldn’t see? One that he could only feel?

His lungs began to burn from lack of oxygen. His core needed little more than a single prod to flare into his transformation. This time, though, the light from his transformation was not visible behind his eyelids. The only indication he had that his transformation had actually triggered was the way his core jumped to the surface, nearly overwhelming him with potent energy.

The darkness still suffocated him, but the suffocation was at least somewhat more tolerable now that he didn’t have to breathe. It still seized his core and dormant heart in panic. The conflicting feelings that panic and of the siren song calling to his core stirred into a tumultuous cyclone.

He really didn’t like it.

He began to lash out as he did before, blindly shooting ectoplasmic energy into the abyss. Though he couldn’t see it, he could feel it as the darkness devoured his energy. For every blast he shot, it only hit with half the force he intended. The rest was lost to the void. It only made him panic more.

Why was it harder to push back this time? And why did the song feel like it was worming into his ears, trying to permeate his brain and infect it?

The words, if there were even words, were indecipherable. He could only understand the vague concepts it was apparently trying to communicate to him. Something in his heart leapt at the temptations of…

… safety.

Calm.

Rest.

Of course, all the things that sounded most tempting in that moment. He ached for them. To get as far away from the panic and terror the darkness wrought on him. His heart reached, trying desperately to -

No. This isn’t right. It’s a trap. It has to be.

He gritted his teeth. No. He couldn’t. He would not allow himself to be overpowered like this. He was Danny Phantom. Hero of Amity Park, Pariah’s Bane, vanquisher of some of the most powerful ghosts in the Zone.

(It made him tired just thinking about it.)

And so he prepared an attack like he had before. Letting the energy build up and simmer under his skin. Focusing on surrounding himself with his own, familiar aura. With the darkness pressing up against him, it was considerably harder.

He let it out with a desperate push. It worked - but only marginally. The darkness retreated, but it rebounded quickly, trying to seize him again. Panic creeped back in, and before he could fully process it, he was building up another pulse of energy.

The toll made itself known in his core. Using so much of his strength like this…

Well. He didn’t want to think about that.

It didn’t make it any less painful though, as he forced himself to prepare a third pulse. Fear fueled his overworked core.

The third attack proved successful. The darkness receded, and he could feel it as he slowly floated to the surface, like he had been underwater this whole time.

It was a much slower process than last time. Waking up felt like he was trying to pull himself out of a deep sleep. His brain felt hazier than ever.

When he was finally able to open his eyes, he laid there in his bed for a long moment, drinking in the comforting sight of the glow-in-the-dark stars he’d stuck to the ceiling years ago. They were dim at this point in the night, but the light they gave was still more than welcome.

The remnants of the siren song still echoed in his ears. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The third time it happened, his core nearly gave out on him trying to free himself.

Danny stumbled out of bed and to the bathroom. A quick flash of intangibility left his clothes in a heap on the floor, and he collapsed into the tub, yanking the faucet to the coldest setting.

He didn’t know how long he sat there under the icy cold spray of the shower, trying to rid his mind of the fog in his brain induced by the call of the alluring song. It had been louder than ever this time around.

He had nearly lost himself to it.

Shivering, but not from the cold, he pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees. The water drenched his bangs and dripped into his eyes, but he couldn’t care less.

He didn’t think he’d be getting back to sleep any time soon. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Hm.”

“What?” Danny craned his neck, trying to see around Frostbite’s bulky form. “What is it?”

Frostbite hesitated. “I see nothing wrong with your core readings, Great One. Perhaps some possible indicators of overexertion, but your core has certainly been through worse.”

“But…” Danny found himself at a loss for words. That had to be impossible. His core was still aching from the fourth fight to free himself from the void. Two nights in a row of fighting madly for his life…

Normally he would’ve sucked it up and dealt with it, but Jazz, perceptive as she was, saw the bags under his eyes and the weight in his shoulders and ordered him to get checked out.

Frostbite frowned in sympathy. “There could be other reasons for your exhaustion. I suppose it’s difficult to nail down, with your unique hybrid biology.” He tapped a claw on the examination table. “Tell me again what has been happening?”

It was Danny’s turn to hesitate. Part of him wanted to tell Frostbite everything - the darkness, the siren song, the increasing difficulty to fight it off - but another part of him bit his tongue. He couldn’t place his finger on it. It was a nagging feeling in his gut, urging him to keep it to himself. For what reason, he had no idea.

Frostbite noticed his unease. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about, Great One,” he said, kneeling down to look Danny in the eye. “Whatever is troubling you will not leave this room. Patient confidentiality!”

“It’s not embarrassing,” Danny muttered. He kept his gaze averted from Frostbite’s. “It’s - I’m just…”

He tried not to squirm as Frostbite watched him carefully. “Tell me,” the yeti said slowly, “have you been spending much time in your lair?”

“My lair? Like… Amity Park? ‘Cause I literally live there.”

“Your town may be your territory -” Danny pulled a face at that “- but it is not your lair. Do you mean to say you’ve never visited your lair?”

“I dunno,” Danny said with a shrug. “I didn’t really think I had one, I guess? It’s not like I need it, I live in the human world.”

Frostbite smiled. The look was somewhat grotesque, what with all the fur and fangs, but in his eyes, Danny could see care and… was that pity? “It seems you still have much to learn,” he said. Danny was grateful for the lack of condescension in his voice. “Come with me. I think it’s about time you were told about this.”

They left the medical center and began crossing the yeti village, towards Frostbite’s cave. Danny waved shyly at some of the cubs they passed, the ones whose eyes grew wide and ears perked up when they saw him.

He was really glad that the Far Frozen was a place he could go in the Ghost Zone and be safe, but he could do with a little less hero worship.

“A ghost’s lair is connected to their very being,” Frostbite explained as they walked. “It is something that is, in a way, automatically formed when a ghost first forms, whether they’re Dead, Neverborn, or even Formless.”

Danny’s lips twitched upward. “So you mean all those blob ghosts I keep finding around school actually have lairs of their own? Why do they live in my world then?”

“Blob ghosts are a bit unique in that they can feed off of the energy of others around them. They do not necessarily need to return to their lairs to recharge, so to speak.”

“Oh.” Danny’s fingers fiddled with each other. “And… you think I have one of these lairs? And it’s not Amity Park?”

“I suppose given your one-of-a-kind nature, it could be possible your lair formed in the human world,” Frostbite mused. “Though I highly doubt it. A ghost’s lair, you see, is the place where that ghost can go to properly replenish their energy. They are usually akin to little pocket dimensions attached to the Realms. It’s part of the reason the Realms are called Infinite,” he said with a laugh. “They are continuously growing as the population grows.”

“But that’s like… millions of pocket dimensions. How is that even possible?”

“I only said they are like pocket dimensions. True, they do not necessarily take up space in the Realms’ dimension, but unlike pocket dimensions, lairs are directly connected to the Realms. Otherwise they would not be able to get the energy necessary to replenish their host.”

“Oh,” Danny repeated. Then, “Oh! Is that why ghost lairs are behind all the doors and stuff floating around? ‘Cause the doorways are like portals, right? So are they like portals to the lairs?”

“For many, yes,” Frostbite said, beaming at his mentee. “The doors are simple, clear entryways for ghost lairs. They also help to serve as a lair’s marker, to ward off most intruders. Lairs are, after all, very private. It would not be healthy if others could simply wander in and out of a ghost’s lair as they please.”

“Probably not. So one of those doors out there is mine?”

“Quite possibly! With your uniqueness and your power level, however, I imagine yours is of a bit different nature. There are many that do not have such clear doorways. For instance, communal lairs, such as here in the Far Frozen.” Frostbite swept his arms to gesture to the village around them. “We yetis are of the same nature; thus we found it more efficient and more pleasant to reform our individual lairs into one larger, shared one. Of course, each of our members has their own place within the lair that is theirs alone, but they are usually small and contained only to the caves or igloos.”

Danny tried to fight down the unease in his stomach. “You mean I’ve been like, tromping around your lair this whole time?”

Frostbite laughed heartily. “Do not fret, Great One! You are our welcome guest. Though this may not be your home or your lair, we are more than happy to offer our hospitality. It’s the least we can do for Pariah’s Bane himself,” he added with a wink.

The title didn’t help Danny’s unease, but he’d long since learned to roll along with their insistence on using such names.

“So… does that mean my lair is here, in the Far Frozen?” he asked as they entered Frostbite’s cave.

The yeti’s face fell a bit. “I do not think so, Great One. The lair of a powerful ghost such as yourself would not go unnoticed here, and we have not sensed such a presence.”

“Oh.” Danny tried not to be too disappointed. As nice as it would be to have a place that was truly his in the Far Frozen, it probably wouldn’t have been the greatest location. “So then where is my lair? How do I find it?”

“Ah, now that is a task somewhat easier said than done. Have you felt particularly drawn toward any one place within the Ghost Zone? Your core has a connection to your lair. It will instinctively want to find its way there.”

“Um… not - I don’t think so? I mean, I haven’t noticed anything at least.”

Frostbite hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose it’s possible your lair might be farther out than most places you’ve ventured, though I would be surprised if it was too far from your portal.”

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Great One!” Frostbite clapped a hand on Danny’s shoulder, nearly sending him tumbling. “There is no one surefire way to discover one’s lair. Many often involve a personal journey of sorts - recognizing who you are and what makes up your essence.”

“My essence?” Danny repeated weakly. The idea of having to go through some sort of self-discovery thing was not exactly appealing. He shook his head. “Wait, what does my lair have to do with what’s been happening to my core?”

“Everything, of course! Your regenerative biology is nothing short of a true phenomenon, but your human regeneration is only capable of replenishing so much ectoplasm. The ectoplasmic energy in a ghost’s lair is symbiotic to their core specifically. It is far more potent and revitalizing than generic, ambient energy in the Zone. Spending some time in your lair will help you recuperate what your body can’t reproduce.”

“I don’t -”

“A safe, nurturing environment, one that is conformed to you and your specific needs and desires, will also help you on a psychological level. Lairs tend to have that sort of calming effect.”

Danny faltered. He wasn’t completely convinced he needed to visit his lair to restore his ectoplasm, but he couldn’t deny the excited flutter in his core at the idea of someplace safe, secure, unable to be breached by his enemies.

Especially enemies attacking him in his sleep.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to find it,” he finally said, his voice quiet. “I barely have time as is with school and patrols and stuff. I don’t have the time to go gallivanting around the Realms trying to find this place.”

Frostbite’s eyes shone with a tender fondness. “Then allow me to provide you with something that may help you find it sooner rather than later.” He disappeared into one of the offshoots leading deeper into the cave.

Danny shifted his weight, feeling awkward standing in the middle of Frostbite’s cave. He’d been here before, of course, and spent plenty of time hanging out in here, but now that he knew the Far Frozen was one giant lair…

Frostbite may have tried to reassure him that he was more than welcome there, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was intruding.

The yeti returned shortly after. In his icy hand, he held a thin, decorated tube.

Danny’s eyes widened. He recognized it immediately. “The InfiMap? You’d let me use it?”

“Of course!” Frostbite knelt again to meet Danny at eye-level. “Finding your lair is vital to your well-being. I’m more than happy to do what I can to help you find it quickly.”

Danny smiled as he accepted the scroll. Carefully, he removed the cap and took the aging parchment. The shimmery, almost holographic surface of the map seemed to smile back up at him.

“Thanks Frostbite,” he said. Before the yeti could say anything, Danny launched himself up and wrapped his arms as much as he could around Frostbite’s broad shoulders. “I’ll bring it back in a flash, I promise!”

“I know you will,” Frostbite said as he returned the hug. When they pulled away, he kept a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Bear in mind that as I said, finding your lair may involve a bit of ‘soul-searching’, as they say. The InfiMap will hopefully help guide you along the way, but ultimately, the success of your endeavor will rest in you. And,” he added with a grin, “I would love to hear about your lair when you do find it.”

Danny laughed. “I think I can manage that.”

He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Danny put some distance between him and the Far Frozen before opening the map again. Sure, he could’ve just started from there, but for some reason, he felt weird about embarking on what sounded like a pretty personal quest in front of Frostbite. The yeti had been more than understanding, thankfully.

By the time he found a spot far enough away from prying eyes, he was further out than he’d gone before. He wasn’t too worried; the InfiMap would take him back to the Portal in a literal flash.

His stomach fluttered as he unrolled the scroll again. The longer the idea of a lair of his own stewed in his head, the more exciting it became. Someplace safe that was his and only his? A place where he could even go to recharge or heal in private, without having to worry about anyone - overprotective friends and sisters included - finding him? The idea sang to his heart and core.

But with that excitement came a slew of nerves. He didn’t understand why until he realized…

Right now, this was his only hope of warding off that darkness and whatever foe brought it. In his lair, it wouldn’t be able to get to him. He’d be surrounded by his own energy, his own signature. He’d finally be protected, instead of having to do the protecting.

If he couldn’t find this place, he didn’t know how he was going to keep himself from being swallowed up by that darkness.

He shook his head and forced his fears down. This would work. It had to.

(A little voice in the back of his head refused to believe that.)

He inhaled shakily. A touch to the map lit it up, sending the familiar images of doors soaring into the air. Maybe one of those doors would be his.

“InfiMap -” he pretended not to hear how his voice cracked “- take me to my lair.”

The map shimmered and rippled. A glow began to encase it. Danny watched it earnestly, waiting to see the route magically appear.

Ten seconds passed. Then thirty. Then a whole minute.

All of Danny’s hopes came crashing back down as the glow finally dissipated. He watched the last threads of light fade into nothing, feeling like his heart was doing the same thing.

The InfiMap always knew where to go. Even if it wasn’t a destination you were intending, it would always take you somewhere. For it to fizzle out like this and lay dormant in his hands…

… it had to mean the place didn’t exist.

A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he sagged into a passing cloud of ectoplasm. “C’mon, Map, please,” he begged. “It has to be somewhere, Frostbite said so!”

It remained dormant.

Danny wondered if the echoes of the siren song in his ears were in his imagination or a horrible omen. “Then, can you… I don’t know, take me - take me somewhere where I can stop these attacks? Please?”

Still, it remained dormant.

The parchment cracked as his fingers tightened around it. A tear dripped onto its surface. “Please, there has to be somewhere you can take me!” he cried, desperation evident in his voice.

He thought he saw the map ripple again, over towards an older, more arcane part of the Zone, but when he focused his eyes on it, the image remained stubbornly still.

With a shaky breath, he rolled up the map and secured it in its container. He didn’t know what he was going to tell Frostbite. Especially after he’d been so kind as to lend it to him…

But the storm brewing in his gut spoke of another, much stronger concern.

He exhaled and pulled himself up out of the ectoplasm. It was fine. It was. He’d just force himself to stay awake. Never give the enemy a chance to strike. If he stayed in ghost form, it wouldn’t be too hard… right?

The map’s holder glinted harshly in the light. Keep telling yourself that, it seemed to say. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Danny didn’t remember falling asleep. Last he could remember, he’d been out in the downtown area, trying to occupy himself by weaving in and out of the taller buildings.

At first, when he felt his body falling, he assumed he’d somehow fallen asleep mid-flight, but when he found himself unable to correct his flight and open his eyes, he catapulted head-first into panic.

No, no, not again, please! Like all the times before, Danny instinctively opened his mouth to scream out, but the darkness was too quick. Again, it filled his mouth, his throat, his lungs.

The siren song did not start subtly this time. It flooded him all at once, assaulting his ears with its enchanting melody. He still couldn’t understand what it was saying, or if it even had words, but this time, it was so potent, seeping through the darkness filling his airways and using it to enter his body. With a horrified start, he realized it was making a beeline for his core.

His hands grew cold as ectoplasm sparked to life in his palms, and he began clawing at his mouth. If the darkness was tangible enough to suffocate him, surely it had to be tangible enough for him to grab it and keep that siren song from touching his core.

His efforts quickly proved to be futile.

The effect when it reached his core was instantaneous. He tried (and failed) to gasp from the whiplash of the change.

Though his human brain couldn’t fully understand the song, his ghostly core knew exactly what it was tempting him with. Sensations of security and serenity ambushed him and his defenses. His overworked core froze - almost literally, with the jolt of cold that spiked through him - and the power that had instinctively been building dissolved instantly.

You are safe here, the song whispered to him. You can rest here.

His heart listened eagerly. It wanted so badly to give in to the song. His core…

(It’s a trap, the darkness is an enemy.)

… felt torn. Almost in a literal sense. The exhaustion was catching up to him; his core throbbed painfully in his chest. It was revolting against the darkness pressing up against him and inside him, but it too was beginning to surrender to the siren song. It too was tired of the fight.

Yes. This is a place of respite. The song was growing louder and louder in his ears, resonating against his core. You will be sheltered here. Harm will not befall you.

The ectoplasm in his hands flickered.

Danny wanted to cry, but the darkness evaporated his tears away before he could even let them out. Maybe others would still be raring to go after only five rounds, but not him. He was too weak for this. He was running on only a few hours of sleep and the burnout of the aftermath of drinking too many Monsters.

He was tired.

Then rest.

The song began to wrap itself around his core, and the ectoplasm died away completely in his hands. His fall began to slow, and his body sagged into the air cushioning him.

He knew it was a mistake. That he would most definitely live to regret it, if he ever escaped. But he just… couldn’t.

Tiny pinpricks of dim light, almost invisible, teased the peripheries of his vision. With a start, he felt his eyelids fluttering against his eyes. The pinpricks were there, even when his eyes were closed, but even behind his eyelids he could see them very slowly beginning to brighten. Just a bit at a time, nothing explicitly obvious.

This place is yours. What will you make of it?

Barely registering the words of the siren song purring against his core, he reached a hand out, towards the tiny lights, and -

“ -ke up, Phantom!”

A hand was roughly shaking his shoulder. He laid on something hard and uneven. A cloud of hushed, frantic voices swirled above him.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him…”

“Should we call the Fentons? Or the Huntress?”

“You think ghost hunters would help a ghost? You know how bent on getting their hands on him they are!”

“Well we have to help him somehow.”

“What about 9-1-1?”

“Someone’s already called it, I think, but I dunno what they’d be able to do for him.”

“C’mon, Phantom, wake up bud.”

That last voice was sharper, clearer than the rest. Right above him. The easiest one to understand through the thick haze he still found himself swimming in.

He tried to pull his eyelids open, but they felt weighed down by anvils. A tiny groan escaped his throat, and his head lolled to the side.

“Oh, did you see that?”

“See what?”

“I think he’s waking up!”

The hand shook his shoulder again. “Phantom, you there? We need to know if you’re alright.”

Danny’s mouth felt like it’d been stuffed with cotton balls. Or a mysterious and ominous darkness. Fuzz coated his tongue and mouth. “‘m fine,” he said, trying to work his mouth around the words. “Jus’...”

“It’s okay, don’t try to get up. That was a nasty fall you took.”

“Fall?” Again, he tried to open his eyes. This time he managed to pull them open a bit, enough to see a few blurry figures above him.

“You fell out of the sky!” someone shouted. Danny was too tired to wince, as grating as the sound was against his ears that had been so carefully caught up in the gentle siren song. “Turned around and bam! There you were!”

Danny smacked his lips together as he worked the fuzz out of his mouth. Horrified, he realized he must have somehow fallen asleep mid-flight.

His hands and elbows scrabbled against the ground as he tried to prop himself up, much to the disapproval of the person hovering over him. “I’m - it’s fine,” he muttered. “I think I… just got tired or… something. I dunno.”

“Can ghosts even get tired?”

“Shh!”

“Are you sure you’re alright, kid?” the voice right next to him said. Danny blinked, trying to bring the person’s features into focus. It was someone young, but older than him. College-aged, probably. “We can maybe drive you to the hospital if you need it.”

“You think they have the stuff to fix up a ghost in a human hospital?”

“Well, where else is he supposed to go?” the college kid snapped. “You want to use Zac’s brilliant idea and take him to the Fentons?”

“Guys, seriously,” Danny interrupted, his core pulsing faster at the mention of taking him to his parents. “I’m alright. It was - I just screwed up, alright?” He pressed the heel of his palm into his forehead. “I shouldn’t have been flying around while I’m so tired. I’ll be fine, really.”

The college kid’s eyes bored into his. “You really sure you’ll be fine?” they asked, sounding very much like they didn’t believe him.

Danny wasn’t sure he believed himself either. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ By the time Danny managed to extract himself away from the group of late night clubbers and make his way home, sleep was already tugging on him forcefully. He was only able to tumble through his window and into a heap beside his bed before it completely overtook him again.

The darkness resumed its onslaught not a moment later.

This time, though, he was truly too tired to even attempt to ward it off. The siren song found his core again, far quicker than before, and it began lulling him into its folds.

All you have to do is accept it, it hummed. Relief can be yours. You are safe here.

A little part of his core still protested against it, trying to remind him of the darkness invading him, but Danny couldn’t find it in him to try. Again, he allowed himself to sag as his descent to nowhere slowed.

The pinpricks of light slowly faded into view. He reached forward again, towards the brightest one.

What do you wish this place to be? the song crooned in his ear. Its melody fell in sync with his core and heart. He was almost surprised at how… right it felt.

He cupped his hands under the little light. Under his touch, its glow intensified all at once, nearly blinding him after existing in such a thick darkness. The light washed over him, and his core responded.

He didn’t know if he had the words to describe it. The sudden rush of energy in his core was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Like he’d just injected a dozen doses of Ecto-Dejecto into his veins. The ache in his core faded to nothing, and he felt more energized than he had in weeks. Months, even. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

A grin split his face. Eagerly, he reached toward another little light. It reacted similarly, flaring to life and sending a new rush of energy coursing through his veins. He flitted around the void, darting from light to light and bringing each to life. Each light renewed him, filling him with energy and eliciting the feeling of peace within him.

A feeling he’d long since forgotten.

He didn’t know how long he spent, flying around to each of the little lights; there were so many of them, he couldn't keep track of them all. For some reason, that didn't bother him. Just the joy from holding each light and the reward of energy was enough for him. He could hardly remember why he had been so hesitant before.

At some point, he stopped to look back at his handiwork. Much like it had the first time he’d fallen into the darkness, his breath caught in his throat, but this time, it wasn’t from fear. No, it was the sheer beauty and wonder of what the void had become.

The lights were shining, hovering above him, below him, to his sides, stretching out to the point where Danny didn’t know which way was up or which way was down. They illuminated the darkness, creating cloudy hues of purples and reds and greens and blues. Nothing garish, but enough to form visible nebulas that filled the area. Some of the lights shedded tiny, twinkling bits, falling into place amid the nebulas. It all looked like…

… space.

His own, little version of space. A shimmering starscape, as far as he could see.

He felt lighter than air. His heart pounded, his core began to sing the same song that had been tempting him for so long now. It didn’t feel so foreign anymore. He could almost believe it had been his core singing its longings the whole time.

The darkness wasn’t so scary when it looked like this.

A laugh bubbled past his lips, and he took flight, ready to find his place among the stars. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ When he woke, sunlight beamed through his window, bathing the room in a soft golden glow. The sight wasn’t as beautiful as his little space, but it was definitely a lovely sight to wake up to.

Danny yawned and stretched like a cat from his position on the floor. He laid there a moment longer, savoring the last images of the starscape fading from his mind’s eye. His core, still feeling refreshed and renewed, rumbled happily in his chest, right alongside his heart.

He still didn’t understand what it had all been, though. The darkness, for one thing, and that feeling he could never shake of a foreign presence trying to take him over. The memory of his ghost sense coiled in his mouth each time he’d fallen into the darkness still resonated strongly, and his ghost sense did not go off without reason.

But… could he really complain? He felt better than he had in a long time. He hadn’t been able to explore real space, but soaring through the stars he’d helped bring to life was almost more appealing. It had been a place he could simply just… exist, without having to worry.

He just didn’t know what that place was.

The glint of sunlight on something shiny hit his eye. Rubbing it, he lifted his head and saw the InfiMap, still in its container, sitting innocently on his desk.

His head fell back to the floor with a thunk. Right. That had been something he’d been dealing with yesterday.

It was strange, he realized. Yesterday, he’d been so stressed about not being able to find his lair, not being able to find a way to protect himself against that darkness that terrified him. Ironically, surrendering himself to that darkness had offered him a relief like none other.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea, at least for the long run. He didn’t want it to turn into one of those things where he was the fly being lured to the honey.

But until he could find his lair… it wouldn’t hurt to use the place granted to him by the darkness, right?

He sighed. He’d have to ask Frostbite about it when he returned the InfiMap. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Night had fallen once more in the human world, where the boy lived.

Nocturne’s mouth curled into a smile as silvery threads began to unravel themselves from the stars that formed his body. They stretched and snaked through the air. Some wrapped themselves around others. Other strands avoided some like a plague. Some threads were so similar, it was nearly impossible to tell where one began and the other ended.

Nocturne hummed to himself. He raised his hands up and out, over the sea of silver strands in front of him. With little more than a flick of his wrist, the threads began weaving within one another, creating a stunning tapestry of hundreds of thousands of threads.

His web of dreams was easily his most cherished tool. He prided himself in so perfectly and seamlessly weaving human dreams together into something stronger. More beautiful. Worthy of the boundless fantasies and enduring fears that dwelled so deep in the humans’ heads.

It was this web that allowed him to give life to these fantasies and fears, and it was those fantasies and fears that, in turn, revitalized him and provided him with a limitless source of energy.

It was a deal he found more than fair. The humans got to experience the joys and sorrows of his power, and he got the energy he wanted from them. Not stealing, not siphoning. Simply… completing the transaction, so to speak.

All along his web, his dreamscape, tiny sparks lit up. Some died away quickly, others remained. The individual dreams of humans traveled here, through his web. There was something poetic to it, all those dreams coming together to form a bigger picture. Was it the web or the dreams that fueled the other? The answer, like himself, was unclear.

Such was the way of dreams.

A tug from Nocturne’s side pulled his attention away from his beautiful web. He looked down to see another, single thread spiraling from his body, glowing brighter than the rest. Much brighter.

“Ah,” he said, reaching out to stroke the strand lovingly. “There you are, my little Dreamer.”

The thread twirled around his finger, and his smile grew. Normally, he’d be appalled at the sight of one of the strands of his web refusing to weave itself into the larger whole, but he’d long since discovered just how… special this one thread was.

Unlike the other strands, this one had no sparks. In many ways, it was the spark itself, outshining the others by a mile.

He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised when he’d first seen it. The halfling child was abnormally powerful, especially for such a young age. It only made sense that the boy’s strand would take after that power and manifest itself so strongly.

Of course, the idea to… take advantage of such an opportunity had occurred to Nocturne right away. If the child was powerful, if he could create such a tenacious strand, then that meant there was much power to be borrowed. The energy the child could offer him would be more than enough to satisfy him.

Taking it by force, though, had proven to fail miserably. Nocturne’s experiment with the humans in the boy’s city had been evidence enough. The boy, against all odds, somehow managed to find a way to break through the illusions and, quite forcibly, remove Nocturne from the city.

Nocturne hadn’t minded returning to the Infinite Realms. The human world was a place where he had little control, especially over the waking. He much preferred the pocket he’d etched for himself. A place hidden to most other ghosts and spirits. Sleep was, after all, a foreign concept to many ghosts.

The experiment, though it had been a failure, had proven fruitful in different ways. For one, Nocturne had gained a more thorough understanding of just how powerful the halfling child was. For another, he knew he would never weave the boy into his dreamscape through force.

A change of tactics had been required.

In a strange way, Nocturne could relate to the boy. Both existed in the inbetween, a place neither here nor there. A place few other beings could access. A place of possibilities that stretched farther than even a human’s wildest dream.

Life and death could easily be likened to waking and sleeping. And Nocturne took advantage of that.

Taking overt control of the boy’s thread had been simple enough, but the process of luring him in was anything but. The boy’s will was strong, after all, and a strong will often proved itself to be more resistant to Nocturne’s meddling. It didn’t help that said meddling had alerted the boy to Nocturne’s presence, even if he hadn’t been in the same physical space as the boy. The child had immediately rejected him and his presence, even with the coaxing he’d utilized. The boy had needed to fight, though, and that became vital to Nocturne’s plans.

Never before had Nocturne needed to focus such a large portion of his energy into wrangling a dream. He’d poured everything he could into seizing the child’s dreams and calling to him. He knew the boy would be far more willing to relax into a presence more similar to his own than an opponent’s.

What had surprised Nocturne was just how literal that truth was. Something within the boy had… tainted Nocturne’s energy. Not dirtied it, but simply somehow molded the energy to fit him more than Nocturne. For as ancient as he was, Nocturne had never witnessed such a phenomenon. It was a testament to the boy’s strength and power.

It had also proven to make Nocturne’s job much, much easier. The child’s exhaustion coupled with the evolution of the energy had managed to secure him after only a handful of attempts.

Only somehow, impossibly so, Nocturne couldn’t tell if the little dreamscape was his own creation or the boy’s.

The first time the boy had fully allowed himself into that dreamscape, his thread had shined brighter than even the full web of threads, as it shone now. There was something… unique about that dreamscape. Certainly not waking, but still set apart from the dreamscape of the sleeping.

Something… in between.

It had taken only a week longer from that first birth of the dreamscape for him to understand just what had happened, and when he had come to that realization, he couldn’t help but marvel.

Nocturne cradled the shimmery thread in his hand. “A special Dreamer indeed,” he whispered to it.

If the halfling wanted to use the little dreamscape for that, Nocturne would allow it. He supposed it was only fitting for a child of the inbetween to form his own pocket of the Realms in a place of the inbetween.

And Nocturne knew he’d get what he wanted. It was, after all, a simple transaction.

#danny phantom #phandom truce 2023 #danny fenton #frostbite #nocturne #danny phantom fanfic #fanfic #hannah writes #does it make any sense?#probably not #bUT HOPEFULLY ITS STILL GOOD I HOPE YOU ENJOY CATTHEROBOT

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