#and Danny thinks he’s like a cat who just perch on his window from time to time

[alkallier]

Built 4 Crime

A/N: It’s been years since I wrote anything. Have mercy on me, even if its a short one

As far as Jason could remember, there was always this guy next door who looked like he could keel at any given moment and knowing how the alley works, he wouldn’t be surprised if he did find his body lying around the corners at some point.

Frail and pale looking middle-age guy with an apartment that looked like it had minimal security, less than the average housing here and that’s saying something; And with how scarce he saw the man goes out to buy groceries, maybe he would even perish from forgetting to eat one of these days.

But he never did.

His neighbour always looked sickly,

Ever on the edge of death's door.

But still managing... somehow—

And more often than not, Jason could see the guy tinkering in his apartment with the windows closed whenever he’s not around, all the smoke and debris from his project got to be stacking up in system by now.

He honestly just hoped his neighbour isn’t a rogue in the making... He rather like this guy. It would be ashamed if he was put to Arkham.

“Hey kid, you’re back here again?”

It became a weird routine of his,

“Look at this little fella I just made!!”

It was like bird watching.

“Isn’t it cute?!”

But instead of birds, it was a person.

“I think I’m going to name it K-T3a because you know, it’s made out of a tea kettle?”

A person that just happened to be his next-door neighbour.

.

.

[hphmmatthewluther]

Matthew Luther and the Results and the Relay, part 1/2

The waves ebbed and flowed over the white sand, the sun beating down overhead. There were no other sounds, apart from the sound of splashing feet in the shallower water. One of the two pairs belonged to Matthew Luther.

“It’s weird,” he said, walking through the water with his companion in hand, “I’ve never been to a beach without any rocks whatsoever.”

“Of course you haven’t, Matthew.” said Merula, smirking. “What are we doing here?”

“I...I don’t know.” he confessed, looking around. Beyond the white sand, he could make out Hogwarts in the distance, and the forest between them. “I don’t think we’re in Scotland anymore, Merula.”

Merula smiled, moving closer to him. “Of course we aren’t!”

“Yeah, if we were the weather wouldn’t be this nice.” he pointed out. Merula laughed at that, and everything felt...right for Matthew. Suddenly, dark clouds appeared in the sky.

“You had to say it, didn’t you?” Merula asked. “I’ll...um, see you around, Matt.”

She kissed him on the cheek, and with that, she turned to leave.

“Wait!” yelled Matthew, the water slowly rising around him, “Where are you going?! And since when did you call me Matt?!” The water covered him completely, and there was a burst of thunder. Then, there was a loud crack of lighting, and-

“Gah!” Matthew exclaimed, opening his eyes. Danny, his cat, scrambled off of his face, allowing him to breathe. He brought his hand to chest, calming himself down. He looked at the time. It was ridiculously early. He sighed, and fell back onto his bed. Danny quickly returned to his position by Matthew’s feet. But the Ravenclaw had other things on his mind. He’d had a dream about Merula. Again. The first dream had been relatively similar to this one, though that time the lake had frozen over, and Merula hadn’t kissed him at all. He turned red as he contemplated where exactly these dreams were going. It occurred to him that he wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon, and so he turned the noise muffler on the side of his bed up to full, and pulled out a black guitar case. In it was an acoustic guitar with several blue runes engraved into the wood. He had found it while facing a changeling before Christmas, and had slowly been re-teaching himself how to play it.

Matthew flicked through the notebook his father had given him. There was a section titled “Songs to never play in a guitar shop.” It had one entry: Stairway to Heaven. Matthew chuckled at that, pulling the guitar up and beginning to play. He found it very useful, as it sort of calmed down his constantly-whirring brain. There were three reasons to play today. First, of course, that dream, secondly was because it was results day for their exams, and thirdly because it was the Dragon Relay. Matthew shook his head, trying to force out any fears of what would happen. Suddenly, there was a tapping sound from the nearby window. He peeked out of the curtains of his four-poster bed to see an eagle on the windowsill outside. Matthew merely smirked, and opened the window.

“Morning, Talbott.”  he whispered, letting the eagle inside. It perched on the empty four-poster bed in the room and ruffled its feathers, before promptly transforming into a fourteen-year-old in his pyjamas.

“And to you, Matthew.” Talbott began, as Matthew closed the window once again. “You were up early. Again.”

“Actually, I’ve only just woken up.” Matthew explained, placing the guitar back in its case. “Besides, it's not like today is what you’d call a stress-free day, right?”

Talbott nodded. “I suppose. But I can’t see why you of all people are stressed. You are above and beyond most of our class in almost every subject.”

“I mean, I guess...” Matthew admitted, “But I’m still worried. Just...you know, worst-case scenario, that sort of thing. But more than that, it’s the Dragon Relay today.”

“Ah, of course.” said Talbott. “I hope you raise enough money. I don’t really go for Dragon Club, but I see that it is important, so I will be attending too.”

Matthew smiled. “Thanks, Talbott. That’s...well, it’s a ringing endorsement if you’re coming.”

There was a silence. “Should we get breakfast?” Matthew asked.

“Very well.” Talbott replied, closing his bed’s curtains so he could change.

By the time they had got down to the Great Hall, a few others were in there already. Among them was Chiara Lobosca, sitting at the Hufflepuff table. She waved at the two, and moved across to the other side of the table so she could talk to them. Matthew found himself smiling.

“Morning, you two!” she said cheerily. “So, Dragon Relay today! Are you two excited?”

“Well, considering I’ve helped organise it, yeah!” admitted Matthew, as other members of Ravenclaw arrived.

“Time to show the school what Ravenclaws’ got!” yelled Andre, carefully moving his scarf away from Matthew’s cereal. “Ah, hey Chiara! Looking stylish, as always!”

Chiara gave that soft, sweet laugh that she always did. Matthew smiled. He was so glad that Chiara was now talking to people; it made him happy to see her more and more. It was then that she pointed out that Matthew’s hand was now in his bowl.

“Gah!” he exclaimed, pulling out his wand. “Scourgify.” he muttered, the milk slowly vanishing from his hand, as Rowan sat down next to him. “Sorry, guess I’m just tired.” he said, his cheeks now a deep red. Right in front of Chiara, too…

“It’s alright, Matt.” she reassured him, smiling. “Nice spellwork by the way.”

“Th-thanks...” he stammered over his own embarrassment. Rowan looked on in surprise. Matthew’s eyes widened in realisation.

“Oh, right, I gave Chiara ‘Matt’ privileges.” he explained. There were a few gasps, followed by some nods and ‘Nice one”’s from those nearby. Matthew didn’t let just anyone call him ‘Matt’, preferring to go by Matthew. If you had ‘Matt’ privileges, you were automatically cooler. Talbott smiled.

“Well, we are all glad that you managed to help Matthew to get over breaking that statue.” he said. “Without it, we would not have had...a party today...hmm...”

“It was the least I could do, really.” she said, pushing her hair back. Matthew had to stop himself from smiling too much. It was very difficult.

“Oi, Luther!”

The group turned around to see Merula walking over. Matthew gave a small wave, relieved at the distraction for a brief moment. Then he remembered exactly what he had been dreaming about that morning, and quickly tried to push it out of his head. He failed miserably.

“Well, this Dragon Relay better be something, Luther.” she sneered, sitting down at the Slytherin table. “I will beat you at everything of course.” She suddenly noticed Chiara standing next to the group. “Oh...so you’ve added a new member to the cult, have you?”

“Haven’t you got a cult of your own?” Talbott asked. “You’ve got Ismelda, Barnaby’s re-joined you, you’ve made up with Tulip, all those Puffsk-”

“Anyway!” she said loudly. “I will see you there, Luther.” 

“You can call me Matt, if you want.” Matthew reminded her. “You did help me in the Cursed Vaults, after all.”

Merula scoffed. “Those that call you Matthew are below you. Those who call you...uh, ‘Matt’, are only equal to your level. Quidditch, duelling, exam results...I call you Luther because I am above you in every way, shape and form.”

Matthew got up and walked over, and the people nearby had to cover their mouths. “Um, I somehow doubt you’re um, above me, Merula.”  to which those nearby started giggling at their five-inch height difference. At this distance to her he felt a strong sense of Deja vu, and an even stronger temptation to grab her hand as he’d done in the dream.

She smirked and walked off, before remembering she had to eat breakfast, and so sat back down far away from Matthew. But, for some reason, every time he looked up at her, she was looking at him. He didn’t point it out, but put it in the back of his head as the group discussed the upcoming results.

“Matthew?” asked Rowan, as they headed to Herbology.

“Yes, Rowan?” Matthew asked, snapping back to reality quickly.

“Look...we’re friends, right?” he asked.

“Of course.” Matthew replied. “Why, what do you want?”

Rowan gave a fake laugh. “Wh-who said I wanted anything?”

“You only play this card when you want something.” Matthew said with a smile.

Rowan smiled back. “It’s just...well, you know how you gave Chiara ‘Matt’ privileges?” Matthew nodded, his cheeks going slightly pink. “Well, and this is Andre’s words not mine, you may have had an...um, ulterior motive.”

Matthew stopped in his tracks. “Rowan Khanna, how dare you accuse me of something so low-brow. I would never use the sacred principle of ‘Matt’ privileges to...well, to get with girls!”

Rowan nodded. “Yeah, I know that. Penny’s still wondering when she’s getting hers.”

“I’ll let Penny call me Matt when you let her call you Ro-Ro.”

It was then their turn to blush. ‘Matt’ privileges were one thing, but ‘Ro-Ro’ was for the very cream of the crop.

“Alright, everyone, gather round, that’s it!” Professor Sprout’s voice boomed across the Greenhouse. “We’ll be checking in with the Venomous Ivy today, so dragonhide gloves on!” There was a shuffling as the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs both looked through their bags. Matthew pulled out his gloves (made from a Hebridean Black Dragon, a Doherty family heirloom, according to his mother). Chiara, who Matthew had ‘wound up’ next to, pulled out her own, clearly from a Welsh Green. The Ravenclaw’s paranoia, which had been dormant for the last few days, suddenly reared its head. Do not try and start a conversation based on dragonhide gloves, you dolt! Matthew felt inclined to agree with it. He didn’t think there was much to talk about regarding Venomous Ivy. He looked over at the silver-haired girl, who smiled back at him. Matthew sighed. He would have to save his confidence for the Dragon Relay.

“Woah!” came a voice to Matthew’s left, followed by a loud crash. He looked over to see Tonks on the floor, a dragonhide glove somehow on her nose (from a Swedish Short Snout.)

“Blimey, Tonks, are you okay?” Matthew asked, moving over to help her up.

“Yeah...you know me, just clumsy.” Tonks lamented, putting her gloves on. “Sorry for interrupting your, uh, quality time over there.”

Matthew blushed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “God, did Andre tell everyone about his little ‘theory’?” he asked.

“Is it really a theory?” Tonks chuckled, as Matthew moved over to the storage cupboard. “I wouldn’t be surprised if by now you’d started dreaming about Chiara.”

“Merula.” Matthew corrected automatically, not really paying attention to what he was saying. Tonks came to a halt.

“Did you just say...Merula?” Tonks asked, quickly moving closer so they could talk in private. Matthew kept looking through the cupboard, despite having found everything he needed. It appeared that his brain had short-circuited.

“I...um...what?” he spluttered, “Wh- Merula? Did I...what was the question?”

Tonks smirked knowingly. “I asked if you’d dreamt about Chiara, and you said ‘Merula’.”

Matthew’s eyes widened, as he slowly closed the cupboard door and walked back to the Venomous Ivy. He took a long, deep sigh. “Can...can you keep a secret?”

Tonks gasped, before quickly focusing on her own Ivy. “Come on, Matthew, I’m never one to gossip. Mostly. But I won’t tell a soul about this. Now...what happened?”

“Nothing...too bad, okay?!” Matthew began. “We...um, we were on the beach...together...holding hands...what?” he asked, as Tonks leant forward.

“Keep going.” she said with bated breath.

“Okay...we talked a bit...we laughed, then this thunderstorm appeared and she...um Merula, well the dream Merula she...kissed me. On the cheek though, that was it! Anyway...then the sea rose, this lightning came down, and I woke up.”

Tonks nodded, slowly digesting what Matthew had told her. “And...no dreams about Chiara.”

“Well, she appears in them too, but she’s never...well...” he trailed off, gazing down at his Venomous Ivy. It thrashed its vines towards him as he approached, but recoiled as he poured water onto its leaves. It turned in the flow of the water, allowing the water to catch the leaves and fall down into the gutter.

“Excellent, Luther! Your Ivy really trusts you! Very impressive!” Professor Sprout pointed out. “It’s a lot like taming a creature, really?”

“Okay...” said Tonks, once Sprout had moved away. “That doesn’t sound too bad...”

“That isn’t the problem.” confessed Matthew. “This...isn’t the first time I’ve dreamt about her. And Merula knows she’s been in there once.”

Tonks gulped. “Right...crikey, if she finds out she’s been in your dreams multiple times...”

“I’ll never hear the end of it.” Matthew concluded. “And I need everything to go well today. But, knowing my luck...”

“You know, maybe you could talk to someone about this. Someone who sort of gets this romance thing. I’ve got to prepare for this party and stress about the results, so my schedule is packed.”

Matthew nodded. “Yeah...I’ll talk to someone like that. Someone cool.”

“Dennis found that story hilarious, Matthew Luther!” Tulip laughed, as she, her toad, and Matthew sat in the now tidier Dragon Club. “And, while I appreciate the ‘Matt’ privileges for my help in the Nightmare Vault, I have given them to Dennis instead.”

“Perfectly understandable, Tulip.” he reassured her. “I guess I wanted to see you because you’re friends with both of them. Also, you aren’t Diego.”

Tulip nodded. “Diego Caplan knows very little about dating, despite what he tells you. I’m glad you came to me.” Dennis croaked, scratching the Dungbomb on his back with one of his legs.

“So..I guess I’m just confused. I mean, I...I think I like Chiara, but...maybe I’m just distracting myself from Merula...I don’t know...maybe I’m just not ready for dating yet.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that.” Tulip responded. “In fact, it’s probably for the best. I suppose what you’ve got to ask is this: do you want your relationship with Chiara or Merula to change? And, at the same time, do they want it to change?”

Matthew thought about this for a moment. He liked Chiara, and having her hang out with his friends was...well, enough, and he was pretty sure that she felt the same way too. For now, perhaps, said a voice in his head which sounded horribly like Edwin the changeling. He ignored it. So that wasn’t a problem. Merula, on the other hand, was. He did indeed want things to change between the two. But not like that! Said one voice. Then how? You’ve actually kissed her, haven’t you? Said another. Tulip could see he was struggling.

“You don’t have to decide right away, Matthew Luther. But allow the question to guide what you do during the Dragon Relay tonight. After all...” she smirked. “These are two of our hottest friends we’re talking about.”

They spent a while laughing and complimenting their friends, until it soon became time for the Relay to begin.

“You will do fine, Matthew Luther.” she declared, as they left for the School Grounds. “This is one of your closest friends and one of your closest rivals. The strangeness of dreams will not change this.”

Matthew nodded. “No, I suppose not.” He felt ready, and he honestly was. His only difficulty from that point until the fundraiser began was struggling to not laugh when he saw Diego with a guitar case. He remembered what his father had said about those who bring their guitars to parties, and suddenly felt a surge of confidence. He could do this.

[ladylynse]

Passageway: The Fenton Ghost Portal in the basement lab is empty, broken. Instead, the portal is inside Danny--and even when he knows something's coming, he can’t stop it. (Danny as the ghost portal AU)

Part 6: [FF | AO3] He’s somewhere new again--Danny can figure out that much--but he can’t get out of here on his own, even if he’s not cuffed to a shelving unit anymore.

(Previous)

-|-

When Danny woke up, his hands were cuffed in front of him, but his legs were free. He pushed himself into a sitting position, and for a moment, he thought the motion was going to make him sick. His head spun.

After a moment, he trusted himself enough to open his eyes again. Disorientating darkness still cloaked the entire room. Or whatever this was. All he could feel was cool metal beneath him, and he wasn’t up for exploring beyond that quite yet.

“Please,” he whispered, “just let me go.”

His voice echoed back at him.

He forced his eyes back open—when had they closed?—and slowly looked around, but he couldn’t even see a different level of darkness, something lighter than the rest. No windows, wherever this was. Maybe no doors, either, considering he was dealing with a ghost. He’d seen them pass through solid objects; it might not be too difficult for them to take something—or someone—with them.

“Hello?”

The word came back too quickly.

Wherever he was, it couldn’t be terribly large.

Danny forced himself to his feet, hands stretched out in front of him, and slowly turned. No walls. That was good. Not too small of a space, then. But a couple staggered steps to the right and he did hit a wall, also metal. He trailed his hands along the vertical ripples, carefully searching the darkness with one foot before stepping forward. Ten steps took him to another wall, but it was only three from there until the next one, and—

“You can’t get out on your own.”

Danny spun, regretting it even as he searched for the taunting voice of his captor. The ghost had to be invisible. In darkness this complete, their ghostly glow would burn like the sun.

“But, please,” they said dryly, still speaking in a perfect mimic of Jazz’s voice, “do keep trying. I could use the entertainment.”

“Why won’t you let me go?”

“Oh, you already know that,” they replied, and he could hear the smile in their voice. “You haven’t given me what I want.”

He wanted to cry. He didn’t…. He couldn’t…. Danny blinked back tears, leaning against the wall for support, and said nothing.

“But don’t worry. We have plenty of time for that. No one’s searching for you here.”

No one was searching for him here. But they were still searching? The ghost hadn’t managed to carry out their plan to make it seem like he was still around? What would have made him change it?

Danny was doing a dismal job of keeping the hope off his face, but he didn’t think ghosts could see in the dark. Most of them, anyway. But with a shapeshifter, who knew? If they could change every part of their body, couldn’t they make eyes that could see in the dark? Was there even enough light for that in here if they could?

“You’ll be happy to know I brought you a pail this time,” they added, their voice suddenly softer and speaking right into his ear. He jerked back, knocking his head on the wall and wincing. Over the pounding in his head, he could still hear them talking to him. “I’m not a complete monster, whatever your parents say. Not that they’re saying much about ghosts when they think you ran away all on your own.”

“I hate you.” The words didn’t come out nearly as strong as he would’ve liked. He licked his parched lips with a thick tongue and poured more venom into his words. “I hate you! You can’t do this to me! Someone’s going to figure this out and save me!”

“You better hope they don’t,” the ghost countered, “if you really care about them. Ta-ta, kiddo.”

Danny sunk slowly to the floor, not bothering to bite back his sobs this time. How could he have messed up this much? If he hadn’t been too scared to tell his parents what was going on, maybe they could’ve figured out a way to stop this from happening before that thing had come through. Or maybe, if he’d figured out how to fight back more, even though he was fighting a ghost, maybe, just maybe—

“Yeesh, I never thought that crazy cat would leave.”

Danny started and looked up. He squinted as much at the sudden light as through the blur of tears, and he lifted his arms to try to wipe the wetness away. Sidney Poindexter’s ghostly glow was enough to light up his prison—a shipping container, from the looks of it, with the promised pail in the far corner. Danny was suddenly glad he was too dehydrated to need it right now. “You came back?” he croaked.

The ghost shrugged and rubbed at one arm. “Once I found you again. You called me through for help. Least I can do is help you, even if you don’t want me to.”

“I do. I’m sorry.”

“Water off a duck’s back,” Sidney said dismissively as he moved to hover closer to Danny. He pointed at the cuffs. “Like I said, I can’t get you out of those. You’re gonna have to try.”

“Just because my parents make these, doesn’t mean I carry a key with me, so how am I supposed to do that?”

“But you shouldn’t….” Sidney drew back, then lowered himself so he was sitting opposite Danny. “You’re the gatekeeper. You don’t need a key.”

Danny stared at him. He didn’t want to get into another argument with the only ghost—the only being—who could help him right now, but Sidney was making that awfully hard. “Just because I called you through, whatever that means, doesn’t mean I can get out of a pair of Fenton Cuffs without a key. I can’t will them open or whatever.”

Sidney snorted. “Who said anything about willing them open? Telekinesis isn’t common enough for me to make that assumption.”

You did too say that, Danny almost retorted, but he hadn’t, not really. And he didn’t really want to think about the fact that telekinetic ghosts existed when it meant he might meet one of them sooner rather than never, which was preferable. Instead, he asked, “How else am I supposed to get them open? Or off? And if you try to say something about dislocating my thumb, I don’t even know how to do that.”

Sidney raised an eyebrow. “Blast ‘em? Freeze ‘em? Burn ‘em? Whatever you can do. I don’t know what powers you control.”

“I don’t have powers to control.”

“But you’re the gatekeeper.”

“Will you stop calling me that? It doesn’t mean anything! I don’t have powers!”

Sidney cocked his head and let out a low whistle. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

Danny officially hated this conversation.

Just…not as much as he hated being kept captive by a shapeshifting ghost who had threatened to hurt the people he loved and wouldn’t have any qualms about doing that.

Sidney straightened up, rising to a standing position with a fluidity Danny was pretty sure only a ghost could achieve. “Hard way it is, then. You ready to beat feet?”

Danny was pretty sure that meant leave, so he nodded. “How are you going to get me out of these?” He held up his arms for emphasis.

Sidney shook his head. “Those’ll have to stay on. Them and me? Won’t mix. I could drag you through a wall, but I couldn’t drag them through a wall, and I can’t drag you through them, so you’d be stuck. This’ll have to be the old-fashioned way. I’ll open the door, and then I gotta split before the shifter comes back and finds me. You’ll have a bit of a drop, nothing you can’t survive, but then you’ll need to cut out before you’re seen.” He paused. “Don’t go home.”

Danny’s heart sank. “Why not? My parents can help me.”

Sidney pointed to the floor. “I’ve been around for a bit. Listening. Wouldn’t trust that shifter as far as I could throw them. Till you’re ready to rattle, I wouldn’t call that snake in for a fight.”

“My parents have weapons,” Danny said, but he’d already tried that. He wasn’t sure which weapons worked. “They could…. They’ll help me. We can fight this guy.”

“Fastest way to end up fighting each other. They’re a shifter.” Sidney spread his hands. “But if you think you’ll be able to tell….”

They both knew he couldn’t, so Danny let his shoulders sag in defeat. “I can’t just run away. I don’t have any money, and I’ll need food and water.” And a place to sleep, and probably medical attention, and—

“So hide in the last place they’ll look for you.”

“But I don’t know where that is!”

“Anywhere you wouldn’t normally hang.”

Danny still didn’t know where that would be, but he’d rather figure that out somewhere that was not here. “Okay, fine, whatever. I’m ready. I’ll just…. I’ll figure something out.” He forced himself to his feet again. “Thanks.”

“Thank me once you’re safe. I’ll find you. If you’re any good, that won’t be easy.”

“Thanks,” Danny repeated, but Sidney had already phased through the door. Darkness descended again, but the shipping container was nearly empty, so Danny didn’t find it too difficult to make his way forward. And when the door cracked open, bringing with it fresh air and the dim light of—dawn? Dusk? He wasn’t sure yet—Danny moved faster.

Sidney was gone to Danny’s eyes when he made it to the edge, but he didn’t need the light of Sidney’s ghostly glow to see the drop. It was dusk, the sun sinking low beyond the edge of town, and there was still enough light around for him to see that he was at the docks.

And that his shipping container was perched on top of another shipping container. That was, what, eight feet down? With packed gravel below? It wouldn’t be so bad if he had full use of his arms and could hang over the side before dropping, but just jumping?

“Sidney?” Danny called as loudly as he dared. “Can you maybe, um, fly me down or something?”

Silence.

Well, he had said he wasn’t going to stick around. Danny knew he shouldn’t be surprised. Sidney was scared of the shapeshifter, and Danny couldn’t blame him. To be fair, he wasn’t sure why Sidney was scared—it wasn’t like he still had living relatives to worry about, did he?—but Danny was willing to take any amount of help that Sidney offered.

Didn’t mean he didn’t wish that would have constituted more help than just opening a door, though.

Danny moved so that he was sitting with his legs dangling over the side. He just needed to push himself off, fall into the gravel, and try not to break every bone in his body. Easy. “C’mon, you can do this,” he said to himself, but it wasn’t much of a pep talk. Sidney might be confident the fall wouldn’t kill him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t break a leg or something, and—

“This would be so much easier if I could fly.”

Except he couldn’t, because his only superpower was apparently coughing up vaguely helpful, completely random, or straight up evil ghosts.

Danny hesitated for longer than he should have, biting his lip and trying to will himself to just push off and fall. His heart thundered in his chest, terror of being discovered battling with terror of the drop and what escaping now would mean for his family and friends. He wasn’t even sure how to save himself. How did he expect to save them? If he stayed, they’d be safe enough for now, but later—

They wouldn’t be safe later.

No one would be safe later.

He had to try.

“I’m going to regret this,” Danny muttered, and he meant to lean forward. To fall. To escape. But a split second of teetering forward had him throwing his weight backward, trying to save himself. He couldn’t make himself drop that far on purpose. He just…. He was scared.

He was trying to escape from what was very probably a homicidal ghost, and he was scared of falling.

Why couldn’t Sidney come back? It would’ve been so much easier if he’d just flown Danny down to the ground. Or flown him anywhere. Really, Danny wasn’t about to be picky. He’d even be willing to be flown into a different shipping container, as long as it wasn’t this one, where the shifter ghost had left him.

Danny rolled over onto his stomach. “I’m going to regret this,” he mumbled again, wiggling closer to the edge. First it was just his feet hanging over the edge, then his knees, and then…. “I’m going to regret this, I’m going to regret this, I’m going to—”

He couldn’t help but scream when he lost the battle with gravity.

Scream, and wish fervently that he could fly, or at least that he would stop falling.

He shut his eyes, hoping he didn’t break too many bones when he landed—or, if he did, that it wouldn’t hurt as much as he was imagining. Maybe adrenaline would keep the pain away for a while. That would be nice. That would…not explain why he hadn’t hit the ground yet.

Had Sidney caught him? Or, far worse, had the shapeshifter ghost come back? Except he couldn’t feel anyone’s arms….

Danny opened his eyes and closed his mouth, not fully aware when realization had startled him into silence. He was…floating. That was the only way to explain it. He’d just stopped, mid-fall. More easily than he’d anticipated, Danny twisted so his feet were pointed toward the ground. That meant he was only a few inches above the gravel, and—

Gravity reasserted itself, and he fell back to the earth. He wasn’t ready for it and still ended up on his knees, but the suddenness was more jarring than the impact with the ground. He…. How had that—?

You’re powerful, the shifter had said, and Sidney had said much the same, hadn’t he? I don’t know what powers you control.

Powers.

Did he really have—?

The door above him creaked on its hinges, reminding Danny that he needed to move, and he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled into a run without looking back. His sneakers scraped against the dirt and occasionally skidded on loose gravel, but he managed to keep his footing. His panting was easily loud enough to give himself away if anyone was around, but….

But the shifter hadn’t caught up to him yet, and he had to keep going so that they didn’t. The lack of obvious tracks would work in his favour, and he’d have to keep out of sight once he made it out of the docks. The industrial end of town would be all but abandoned at night. There were no crowds to blend into. That kinda worked in his favour, though. He couldn’t look great right now, and the cuffs would draw attention if his injuries didn’t.

And the shapeshifter could become anyone.

Danny kept running, concentrating more on moving than where he was going, and tried to keep all other thoughts out of his mind.

He’d…he’d have to figure out what had happened, but he didn’t have time to do that now.

He needed to get somewhere safe first.

And to do that, he just needed to run.

(see more fics | next)

[smallmediumproblems]

It was surprisingly easy to find a pet shop in the Arcade. The difficult part was finding the one they were looking for. Almost as soon as they’d left Spider Empire, they turned a corner to find a neat looking storefront with a sign that read Petland over the door. Nick headed straight for the entrance, but stopped when he heard Jon make an uncertain noise behind him.

“Not that one,” said Jon.

“Is it dangerous?” Nick asked. He took a preemptive step back from the store.

“Well, since none of you are allergic to cats, not especially,” said Jon, “But it won't have what you need.”

“Of course not,” Nick sighed. “Alright. Lead the way.”

They continued to wind through the halls of the Arcade apparently at random. Jon paused every now and then to get his bearings as the layout of the place changed, once or twice turning around completely with a frustrated little scowl. The longer they walked, the more pet stores they passed. Fish ‘n More had a tank that spanned the front of the store, and which, upon closer inspection, seemed to make up the entire interior as well. Static Man insisted that they stop at Too Many Legs to admire several six-legged golden retriever puppies pawing at the window. There was one store that had a gaudy assortment of crystals, medieval weapons, and gold coins littering the front display, under a sign that read DRAGONS! in a friendly cartoon font. To everyone’s dismay, it was closed.

“Should we be worried about this?” prompted Morgan as they passed a store labeled One Big Snake. “Maybe it’s trying to throw us off.”

“No, this is good,” Nick said. “I think it’s more like targeted advertising. We’ve already made a couple purchases, so the Arcade knows we’re not here to cause trouble. If it’s overheard what we’re looking for, it could be trying to help.”

“Boy, it sure is important that we get a frappucino for this ritual, huh Nicholas?” Static Man added loudly. A couple of turns later, a cozy-looking Starbucks appeared on their right.

“Considering the fact that it moved a whole city block to get here, I’d say that’s a pretty sound theory,” said Jon. “Mind you, that added a substantial detour to our walk.”

“Relaaax, drinks on me,” said Static Man, leading them inside.

“Do I want to know where you got money from?” Nick asked doubtfully. “Or where you’re keeping it?”

“It’s cool, Starbucks usually takes teeth,” said Static Man. “So, y’know. Ka-ching! Pop ‘em right out like a pez dispenser.” To demonstrate, he rummaged around in his face and pulled out a tooth with a small click. He held it out to Jon, who wished for the second time in his life that his career involved fewer people trying to hand him teeth.

Nick cornered Jon as they were waiting for their coffees. “Round two?” he suggested. Jon could taste the start of his statement already, a treacherous door and a maddening landscape behind it.

“You sound like you’re enjoying these as much as I am,” said Jon, settling in at one of the rickety tables.

Nick gave a short laugh as he sat across from him, then another more uncomfortable one as he mulled this over. “It’s weird, it almost feels familiar. You… feel familiar. Is that normal?”

“It’s certainly not good,” said Jon. “I don’t think it’s me so much as the Eye. You’ve probably stumbled across it before. I’m genuinely surprised you haven’t been caught up in one of the Fears by now. Mine in particular would be too easy for you to fall into, I think.”

Jon was struck with the sharp, warm sensation of being realized. He could feel Nick starting to put together that his rumpled blazer and secondhand mug weren’t just an affectation to make his supernatural nature seem human. That, if anything, the opposite was closer to the truth. Nick wanted to ask him how it had happened; whether it had crept up on him slowly, or if it was something he’d done to himself. Jon didn’t quite know how to explain that it had been both.

“So there’s more of these things,” Nick asked instead.

“Each one more terrible than the last,” said Jon. “That place belonged to one of them. I told you, spiders are a problem where I’m from.”

“And they’re all, what, fighting each other? Working together?” Nick pressed.

Jon laughed mirthlessly. “Depends on the person. Some of us are almost palatable. Others will tear your skin off just to say hello.”

Nick went very still for a moment. He seemed to come to some conclusion as to which kind Jon was. Jon was very aware of his eyes shifting across his scars. “Do you need help?” Nick asked gently.

“Probably.” Jon followed the statement with a very tired smile. “I can’t have it too bad if I’ve survived this long.”

“I mean it,” said Nick, “I don’t know if you’re trapped, or being blackmailed, or what, but whatever it is, I’m sure we can help. That’s kind of what we do.”

Jon didn’t need to look up at Morgan and Static Man to know what he was being offered. He wondered how many other people Nick had spirited away like this, with promises of freedom or adventure or just plain companionship. It didn’t take much effort for him to picture a scenario where he would have said yes. It wasn’t even too different from his current one.

“Thank you,” he said. “Really, I- You have no idea how many of my problems that would solve. But I have people I need to get back to. There’s someone I’d very much like to see again.”

Nick nodded. “I understand. Still, we’ve got two more stops- offer’s on the table if you change your mind.”

The Arcade had shifted again by the time they left, and Jon led them back in the direction they came from. To no one’s surprise, the shops had all changed as well, though they maintained the same ratio of pet stores.

“If this place is so intent on bringing you what you want,” said Jon, sloshing his macchiato around the flower mug. “That does raise the question of why you actually need me. I’m sure it would figure out where you need to go eventually.”

“Intent is what I’m worried about,” said Nick. “We haven’t had the best track record with sentient landscapes. And ‘eventually’ could take years. We did our research. Plenty of people come to shop in the Arcade. Not a lot of them get back out.”

“After we heard that this place would have what we needed, the first thing we did was try and figure out why so many people went missing,” Morgan chimed in. “I thought people were dying of starvation, but there’s no shortage of resources. None of the survivors talked about roving monsters, or rules you have to stick to to avoid being punished. By all accounts, it’s just an infinite maze of stores.”

“Maze being the operative word,” Jon realized aloud.

“It’s dead simple, when you think about it,” Morgan continued after a sip of her coffee. “It’ll bring you anything you could ask for in a shopping mall, except an exit.”

Jon stopped to concentrate on the layout in a moment of panic. “But it does have an exit. I know where it is.”

“And that’s why you’re rolling with the cool kids,” said Static Man, shooting Jon a finger-gun with his free, un-frappuccino’d hand. “The shops will come to us. We just need you to get us out of here when it’s time to leave. Plus, we can give you a makeover on the way out, right Nick?”

“That’s between you two,” said Nick. “Assuming we can find a JC Penny that accepts teeth. How close are we to this place?”

Jon turned to face the other side of the Arcade hall. “Here, actually,” he said. Across from them was a small storefront done up in pastel, with a display painted onto the front window that read Advanced Pets. His head buzzed with little details about the interior, a wash of comfortingly mundane facts. "It looks quite safe."

“Sick. Hey, you think there’s a Beginner’s Pets?” Static Man asked no one in particular as they crossed the hall. “Or maybe Simple Pets.”

“Band name,” Nick said immediately.

“Band na- dammit!” Morgan swore, half a second too late. Nick laughed, pulling out a cheap notebook and adding the phrase “Simple Pets” to a column under his name. There were matching columns for both Morgan and Static Man. Static Man’s was as long as the other two combined. Jon was struck with an image of Tim, Martin, and Sasha gathered in the Archive breakroom, joking about some piece of office drama over lunch. The sound of Sasha kicking her legs off the countertop she was perched on. Tim sitting backwards in a chair, tipping forward so it balanced on two legs, then back down to safety. Martin’s hands gesturing wildly, careless and mesmerizing.

“Everything alright?”

Jon blinked the memory away. Morgan and Static Man had already gone inside, and Nick was waiting for him in the doorway.

“It’s fine,” said Jon.

It was as fine as it was ever going to be.

The interior of the shop was an orderly mosaic of mint green and orange, soothing after the Arcade’s dim lighting. It was laid out more like a book store than a pet shop, with little alcoves lining the room and a few islands down the center aisle with clear plastic walls and no lids. The instrumental break of a motown song played distantly over the speakers. Most of the pets were recognizable; Morgan was hunched in front of a tank full of axolotls, watching them follow her finger as she traced it across the glass. The closest center island was a roomy enclosure of rabbits. Jon could make out guinea pigs and leopard geckos in the islands further back. As he drifted towards a stack of cat cages, he picked out a few specimens that were less familiar. The next alcove over had terrariums full of something that looked like a turtle with incredibly furry limbs. A section of the store towards the back was blocked off with thick velvet curtains, and had a standing sign in front that read Quiet area! Please do not disturb the ghosts. The music congealed into Patti LaBelle singing Danny Boy.

“You folks let me know if you want me to introduce you to anyone,” Jon heard from the middle of the store. He leaned around a metal rack of squeaky toys to see a late middle-aged woman wearing a pair of chunky plastic earrings and a romper that looked like it had been made from a bowling alley carpet. She was lounging against the register countertop, staring openly at Static Man. When he looked up at the sound of her voice, she gave him a coy smirk and pretended to be preoccupied with a ferret that was draped over her shoulders. This seemed to catch him off guard, but he quickly recovered, striking what Jon could only assume was supposed to be a casual pose next to an iguana enclosure. Jon shuddered.

“We’re looking to buy a pet rock,” said Nick.

The shopkeeper glanced between the four of them. When she looked at Jon, he noticed that her name was Nellie. “You all gonna share just the one?” she asked, the hint of a smile lingering in her voice.

“We’re not what you’d call a conventional household,” Nick replied.

Nellie bounced up from the countertop with a laugh. "Thank goodness! Those things give me the heebie-jeebies. What kind of rock are you interested in?”

“What kinds do you have?” Nick asked hesitantly. It seemed like the appropriate thing to say. Nellie led the party to an alcove lined with shelves, each one bearing at least a dozen rocks in all different shapes, sizes, treatments, and colorations. Most of them were wonky river rocks in varying shades of black and gray. A few towards the back of the shelves were glowing faintly. Some seemed quite valuable, including part of an amethyst geode and something that Jon identified as an absolutely massive uncut diamond. There was a little standing desk off to one side littered with googly eyes and Sharpie markers.

“Take a look around, they’re not shy,” said Nellie.

Nick looked between her and the rocks, and plucked a specimen from the nearest shelf. It was large and gray, with pockmarks that made it look volcanic. “I guess, this one?” he said.

“Hmmmm,” said Nellie. She scratched under the ferret’s chin and squinted at Nick suspiciously. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Ok,” said Nick, forcing a patient tone, “Which one would you suggest?”

Nellie shrugged. “It’s not my rock. But I do know a bad match when I see one. Pick one that speaks to you. These fellas are looking for a forever home, just like everyone in the store.” At this, she looked pointedly at Static Man, batting her eyelashes. Static Man did something horrifying with the multitudes of teeth that protruded from his face like shrapnel. Nellie smiled back.

“Right. Little help, guys?” Nick asked, turning to the others.

Jon tilted his head slightly at Nellie with a small, concerned frown. “Do you want me to…?”

Nick looked panicked. “Help me pick one out,” he clarified quickly. “Please.” The four of them went to work inspecting the rocks and presenting them to Nellie, progressively less and less sure of what they were looking for as each offering was dismissed. More accurately, three of them went through this process while Static Man flirted with her. Jon eventually found himself turning the same rock over and over in his hands, listening in idly on their conversation.

“You didn’t have anywhere to be today, right?” Morgan commented, reaching across him for a small black rock that was keening pleasantly.

“That’s a good question,” said Jon, half to himself. His watch - which he’d neglected to take off while he was dozing in the breakroom - read 5:17. Still a couple hours before anyone might notice he was gone. “Does time work the same way, here?”

Morgan made an unworried noise. “Who knows. That’s one hazard we don’t usually worry too much about. One of the perks of not having someplace to get back to.”

“Not… Not at all?” said Jon, “You just do this all the time?”

“Pretty much,” said Morgan. “We’re not homeless, we do crash on Nick’s couch whenever we need a day off. But mostly, yeah, we just do stuff like this.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Jon marveled.

“It can be,” said Morgan. “Better than being trapped in one place.”

Jon wasn’t sure what kind of expression his reaction had translated to, but whatever it was drew a long, sympathetic look from Morgan. “Mmmh,” she hummed gently. She set her rock down and leaned on a shelf. “You too?”

Jon paused. He nodded.

“You mentioned an archive,” said Morgan, “Is it just you, back home?”

“No,” said Jon, “No, I’ve got… well, not friends, exactly. I know, that sounds bad, it’s… Well, it kind of is. The Archive, not the people. They’re the only thing worth staying for.”

“Always are,” said Morgan.

“You were all alone, weren’t you?” Jon asked. The parts of his situation that Morgan found familiar were painting a clear, bleak picture of what she’d escaped to be here. The dark places in here eyes were filled with more long, quiet nights than she cared to count.

Morgan studied him with the same serious appraisal she’d been giving the rocks. “Watch out for that. I hope you find your way out. But until you do? Don’t be alone.”

They both turned their attention to the other side of the alcove, where Static Man had dragged Nick in as a reluctant wingman. Nick was desperately trying to focus on the rocks while still making the appropriate comments on whatever Static Man was saying.

“Even if you end up stuck with dorks like these,” Morgan said fondly.

She turned back to the shelves as Static Man continued recounting the time he and Nick had fought a tribe of cyborg motorcycle centaurs.

“And then I was like, ‘Hands off my friend, you gas-guzzling son of a bitch!’” he exclaimed, and grabbed Nick’s shoulder for emphasis.

“That still doesn’t make sense,” Nick complained, holding a rock with a vein of crystal through it up to the light. “They didn’t even use gas, they had biofuel. It’s the whole reason we were there, remember? Those bugs were eating all their crops.”

“It was a drought,” Jon corrected him. Nick and Static Man looked over in surprise. “The bugs were just there looking for water. The sonic generator you used to drive them away shook loose an underground spring that saved the plants. Sort of an adjacent solution, I suppose.”

Jon tensed, waiting for the inevitable backlash. Instead, Nick rounded on Static Man with a triumphant fist upheld. “I knew it!” he crowed, looking between him and Morgan. "And you were worried it would cause structural damage!"

"Uhh because it did?" she said, "That's one step away from a sinkhole, in my limited knowledge of dirt things."

"Hey, Archivist? New rule," Static Man grumbled, "You only get to use your psychic powers to help me win arguments, got it?"

 "I'll take that under advisement," said Jon, offering him an awkward smile. He tapped on the rock he was holding, and held it out to Nellie. “How’s this one?”

“Ohh, look at that,” she cooed. “It likes you!”

Jon stared down at the rock. It was not pretty, an unremarkable brown with a large black spot on one corner. The surface was smooth but not glossy, as if from wear rather than polish. It had an oddly comforting weight to it. Somehow it felt solid and dependable in a way that nothing else in the Arcade had. He could feel his own warmth reflected back towards him from how long he’d been holding it, magnified and radiating up his arm. My Girl by the Temptations had started playing over the store speakers.

“It does,” Jon said incredulously. “I don’t- how? Why?”

“How much is it?” asked Morgan.

“For him?” said Nellie. She studied Jon, eyes flicking between him and the rock. “I’d settle for one of those scars.”

Jon looked up. “Excuse me?”

Nellie traced a little crescent on her cheek where Jon had a scar from Jane Prentiss’ attack on the Institute. The ferret crawled up to nuzzle her fingers as she did so. “They’ve got a real arte povera vibe,” she explained, “I know a fella on the collector’s circuit who’d trade something good for one like that.”

“Riiiight,” said Jon, more a signal of acknowledgement than understanding. “If we’re ignoring the obvious questions as usual, am I allowed to haggle? There’s one on my leg that I’d like to be rid of.”

With an appraising sort of hum, Nellie leaned down and inspected the leg in question from a respectful distance. Jon clutched his rock a little closer.

“What’s wrong with that one?” asked Static Man, “Like, as opposed to the ones all over your face. And your hand. Man, you have a lot of scars, how did I not notice that before?”

“It’s a reminder,” explained Jon. “I suppose they all are, but this one’s different. It... hurts differently.”

“I gotta stop asking you questions, because every time you answer one I have, like, five million more,” said Static Man, a distinct tone of admiration in his voice.

“Nice to see that I’m not the only one,” Jon said dryly.

Nellie straightened to face Jon again. “I’m sorry, but I can’t budge on the price,” she said. “That one’s in deep. Now, the ones up top, you’ve got a few to spare.”

“Worth a shot,” said Jon, shrugging. “I’ll take it.”

He resisted the urge to squirm away as Nellie tugged down the neck of his shirt, revealing a scar just under his collarbone. She scrubbed at the edges of it gently until a sliver curled up into itself, then took the edge between two fingers and pulled. It came away to reveal smooth, unblemished skin underneath, as if it had never been there. Jon rubbed the spot with his free hand. He’d expected it to hurt. It just felt like peeling off an old band-aid.

“Thank you for that,” he said.

“My pleasure, dear,” Nellie said with a smile. She rolled up her sleeve around the ferret and carefully placed the scar on her shoulder, smoothing it down until it stuck in place.

“It looks good on you,” Morgan commented.

“Yeah, you look like a badass,” said Static Man appreciatively.

Nellie laughed. “What sweet young people you are! Are you sure there’s nothing else I can help you with before you go?”

“Actually,” said Nick, “There was one other thing. I was hoping to buy some pet food. We need birdseed and something for rats, mice maybe.”

Nellie gave him a knowing look. “The tailors. I thought it might be that one. You’ll want some fish food as well, everyone forgets to feed the fish. Tell you what, mister magic man. I’ll give it to you for free on the condition that you make sure that rock has a home after you’ve used it.”

“You’re familiar with the ritual, then,” said Nick. “You understand what I have to do to it?”

“It’ll survive,” said Nellie, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s a rock, not a champagne glass. I’ve just seen too many of the poor things thrown in the gutter after some hooligan has their way with them.”

Nick nodded. “I don’t see that being a problem. The Archivist seems pretty attached already.”

“Its name is Shirley,” Jon interjected. He was now clutching his rock in both hands and brushing his thumb absently back and forth over its spot. “And I’ll take good care of it.”

[heyheyitsstillgay]

Inhuman Changes

Phandom Phic Phight Entry #4 striking back with a prompt by @marshmallowmayhem - Danny realises that the more he uses his ghost powers the less human he becomes.

#TeamGhost team leader @ibelieveinahappilyeverafter

Previous Entry ; Also available on FFN

Words: 1,494; Status: Complete

Mystified by the reflection staring back at him, Danny tentatively runs his fingers through the hair behind his ear and does his best not to hyperventilate. He’s doing well actually, surprisingly well. His breaths are slow and somehow also shallow. The ghostly teen tries not to think too hard about what that means.

When did this start anyway? How had he not even noticed until now? The changes must have been oh so small, so gradual. He hadn’t had a second thought about it until now. Looking back, he can start to see them building up, his tongue feels heavy.

His parents were often busy when he was younger and Jazz was kind of an annoying know-it-all, well, that’s still true. Point is, he had always been a quiet child when he wasn’t around his friends. At some point more recently though, he’d started getting even quieter. It was a conscious choice at first, he kept slipping into ghost-speak accidentally and had thought that just not talking all together was probably safer. He started gesturing more to compensate. He doubted anyone at Casper noticed, the teens had no reason to give him a second glance and he wasn’t going to give them one.

His reluctance to use language altered the ways he expressed himself though. One day, Dash knocked Tucker’s PDA out of the boy’s hand, smashing the screen. Ordinarily, Danny would’ve defended his best friend and offered comforting words. He thought he’d simply glared at the blond in response. Sam laughed at him later on, fully convinced that she had heard him hissing at the bully.

He overheard the A-listers talking another time, about how Fenton was creeping them out again. Apparently he’d been stock still and staring at them with “stupidly wide, bright, curious eyes” during class. He’d just quirked a doubtful eyebrow and moved on. His gaze had been unmoving, they’d said, he was probably just daydreaming or had fallen asleep with his eyes open. He didn’t think he had accidentally caused them to have an ominous glow. What was their problem?

One night he’d had a nasty run-in with Nocturne. He wasn’t scared though, not that there’d be anything wrong with it if he was, but he was fine. The ghost boy was half asleep when he got back to Fenton works. Drowsily following the neon lights to home, he’d ended up phasing through Jazz’s window instead. His sister was already sleeping, because, y'know, she has her life together. Her bed was absolutely strewn with pillows, all different sizes and textures. Who even needs that many? At the time though, it looked so cosy. His bed was so far away and would be so cold in comparison. He always had a chill catch up to his human form whenever he used his ice powers.

Jazz was always telling him she was there for him. Surely, she wouldn’t mind if he just- the blankets looked so fuzzy and there was plenty of room for him. Maybe he could guard her? Make sure she didn’t die suddenly in the night?

Ever since he’d taken to fighting ghosts, he never got as much sleep as he’d like. He’d always end up napping at his desk at midday when the sun fluttered through the classroom windows and made the wood so comfortably warm. So, maybe he had curled up into a ball amongst his sister’s pillows one night. She didn’t mind. Told him she’s happy for him to do so in future. She foolishly said he looked cute the next morning, which lead to him denying it had ever happened or would ever happen again. He huffed. He’s not a baby and he’s not cute. Stupid big sister.

The Fentons were always inventing new things. Usually they’d confine it to the lab but whenever that room overflowed with their junk they’d end up moving to the kitchen. It had happened again a week or so ago. Danny went into the kitchen for a snack and saw some giant metallic… thing gently and ornately laid out on the table. The kitchen was deserted of life, still, the ghost boy remained cautious as he padded over to it. He didn’t recognise the invention. Part of the device was hovering just over the edge of the table. It looked shiny and had this incredibly distinctive aura that almost yelled “Do Not Touch”. What else is a halfa to do? It felt like his hand was moving on its own, approaching the other end of the device. Danny wasn’t breathing. Eyes wide, shifting rapidly between the contraption and the door to the lab. His ears rang in the silence, which he ended by letting loose a low growl. A crash sounded throughout the house as the Fenton turned tail and ran from the destruction he had caused. Don’t have to learn what new ghost hunting tech does if gravity smashes it before it can be used on you.

Yesterday was when he first noticed a physical change in himself. His fingernails had seemed longer and sharper. He didn’t think twice about it, though. Everyone’s nails grow, it didn’t even cross his mind that his specifically were more claw like. That is, not until a zombie-like spirit lurched through the floor in the changing room. It somehow surpassed his ghost sense, maybe it was too dead, or so un-dead that it wasn’t dead enough to activate it. Either way he reflexively found himself on Tuckers back, his claw like fingers tore through the human’s gym shirt. The halfa paid it no notice, too busy glaring a hole into the ceiling the spectre had phased through, from his perch behind his friend’s shoulder. Noise bubbled in his throat, daring the spirit to come back and try that again. In the end, he had to have his attention broken and be coaxed down from his spot, to the hilarity of everyone else in the room.

Now here he is. Back at school. Wearing a beanie in April, in hopes of hiding one of the new inhuman differences in his appearance that he found in a mirror that morning. Jaw clenching, he heads to his locker to meet his friends.

“Nice hat.” Sam snorts when she catches sight of him, Tucker turns and holds in a confused giggle at the sight of Danny’s deadpan face. “Cold getting to ya, ghost boy?”

In response Danny just leans against the lockers, crossing his arms and pointedly keeping his head down. Sam and Tucker share a look.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

He raises a fist to his mouth, keeping his fingers tucked in and out of sight.

“I’m really worried guys.” He sighs and continues, “a-about how human I am.” He mumbles into his hand.

Sam scans the area and tentatively takes a step towards him, slowly moving his hat upwards until she can see what he’s covering.

“Oh wow.”

“Can I touch it?” Tucker voices from behind her.

“What? No.” Danny bats Sam’s hand away with the one he was using to hide his mouth.

“Wait. No way.” The goth whispers in awe as she reaches back towards his face. Danny simply leans away from her fingers while Tucker flanks his other side. “That’s not fair! How come you got to grow fangs before I did?”

“Sam.” Danny grinds out, “shut u- Hey! I said you couldn’t touch them.” He slaps his hands over his ears as Tucker rubs his fingers in disbelief.

“Oh my god, they’re real. How did this happen?”

“I don’t know! I just, woke up like this.” He finishes in a hushed voice.

“You just woke up with pointed ears and fangs? Did a vampire bite you in the night?”

“Uh, I sure hope not. I’m dead enough thanks. Are vampires even real?”

Sam shrugs, “Ghosts are. Vlad is.”

Grabbing the edge of his beanie, Danny slowly pulled it over his whole face with a groan. When he speaks it’s muffled again.

“People are gonna start noticing that… I’m becoming less human.”

“Yeah, we thought so too, to be honest.” Tucker quirks a smile and lifts part of his jumper to show off the grazes on his back. “I wouldn’t worry about it though,” the teen continues, “people love cats.”

“That’s not funny.” He deadpans, lifting his beanie to glare at both of his friends for their traitorous laughter.

“D'aww, it’s okay.” Sam draws out the last word, bringing her fingers behind the boys ear to scratch at them.

He pouts at her, looking ready to spend the day sulking. A sound stirs from his chest causing the trio to freeze.

“Did you just purr?” Tucker asks.

“What the- no. That was my core. Oh, sue me. I’m content. Please just shut it.” They were quiet for a moment before he continues, “That doesn’t mean you have to stop…”

Sam grins and resumes petting the other-worldly boy. Leaning into her touch, his eyes flutter shut as he purrs again.