#and clockwork knows that Pariah was the last king so this is your life now little guy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

escelia · 8 months ago

Text

New Sibling Just Dropped

Or Danny gets willingly isekai'd into the DCU and gets a twin out of it.

I know I disappeared from the face of the earth for a bit there, and there's stuff I should probably be updating, but I come baring different stuff this time :D

Just started this for fun, and I have at least one other chapter of it done, but idk how long this bout of inspiration will last, so I'm just rolling with it for now.

@flamingpudding look! i pulled a jason todd and rose from the grave!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny was tired. The kind of tired you felt behind your eyes and in your bones, and weighed heavy with achievement. He was perched on the edge of a building in his ghost form looking over Amity Park with a soft smile as he watched Youngblood run through the park with human children, Cujo playfully on their heels. His galaxy cloak (which had been a coronation gift) billowed around his lap like a gas with stars twinkling inside.

It had been a few years now since he took up the Crown of Fire and became High King of the Infinite Realms, and while he had accomplished many things since then, graduating from high school wasn't something on that list. It sucked that he wouldn't get to walk across the stage with Sam and Tucker, but in the face of all he'd been able to do for both Amity and the Infinite Realms, it was worth it. They coexisted now. There was still trouble every now and then, but Danny had helped the ghosts who insisted on staying in Amity Park find a place in their city where they could thrive.

Youngblood watched over the children of the city, Box Ghost started a box recycling center, Lunch Lady started a program to get food to families that couldn't afford it, and Pointdexter started reporting bullying at the school since he was already there.

On the Realms' side, Danny shut down Walker's prison. Since it was his lair, he couldn't take it away from him completely, but it no longer housed the many ghosts the warden had considered "rule breakers." He'd given Walker a new set of rules to enforce and essentially took him under his wing as a royal soldier, kept under the close watch of Fight Knight, who'd defected from Pariah Dark so fast after his defeat that it was laughable.

He'd done something similar with Skulker, though he was a harder case to crack. Unlike Walker, who was happy as long as he had a set of rules to enforce, Skulker wanted to keep hunting. He'd been recruited forcefully by Walker and Fright Knight after they caught him on his way to fight Danny again.

All in all, everything had begun to run smoothly now. The fatigue weighing on him reminded him that it had been hard to accomplish, and continuing to lead his double life hadn't made it any less exhausting. A cold breath rushed through his chest as he felt a familiar presence slide up next to him.

"You didn't time out," Danny pointed out without looking to face the ghost beside him. Clockwork hummed in acknowledgment.

"Sometimes it's pleasant to watch time flow in person." It was Danny's turn to hum at him.

"How are you feeling?" The Ancient asked thoughtfully. The younger ghost tilted his head pensively.

"It's hard to say. I'm tired, but I'm happy. And also sad..." he paused to gather his thoughts. "I feel like I've done everything I needed to."

But not everything he wanted to do.

"Go on," Clockwork pressed. The teenager did turn his head now to make a face at his mentor. If the guy knew how he felt and what he was going to say, why would he say it out loud? But the other just arched a brow at him and waited.

"Fine," he pouted. "I've spent so much time and energy finding places for everyone here. The GIW are gone, my parents stopped hunting ghosts, Jazz got into the psychology program at Stanford, Sam and Tucker are graduating today... I helped make that happen, I know I did! But they're moving on without me. They're growing up and I don't feel like I am."

'I don't feel like I'm ready.'

Danny stopped to take a breath and wipe away the icy tears gathering in his eyes. He felt stupid for crying over it. He was 17 for Ancients' sake! Jazz would have told him he grew up too fast, but he still felt like a child. He had no idea what he was doing! And yet! And yet... he felt...

"But you also feel ancient, right? Like you've been around too long and seen too much?" Clockwork said as though he were reading from a script. Danny sulked. Stupid time ghost with his dumb Time Stream TV or whatever.

"Yeah..."

"All Ancients feel that way. Though you may be feeling unbalanced in more ways than one because of how young you died and the fact you are half human."

"What do you mean?" Danny turned his whole body to face him now, tucking his knees under his chin and circling his arms around them. His cloak moved with him in inky black wisps and settled around him again like clouds of galaxies.

Clockworks form shifted to that of a child.

"You feel young because you died young. However, it is the nature of humans to grow and change. While you may have died at 14, your childhood died before that. You yearn to grow and learn, while also being an incredibly powerful Ancient."

He supposed that made sense. He recalled all the years cleaning the lab before the portal had even been built, and the fighting and neglect (Jazz's words, not his) that spawned his disdain of Christmas even longer before. He wanted to go back to school. He wanted a reason to love Christmas. He wanted pets and family dinners that didn't come alive. He wanted to grow up properly.

"But you still want to help people," the ghost said as though Danny had been talking out loud or having his mind read.

"I hate it when you do that," Danny complained. Clockwork just smiled smugly.

"I know." He laughed at the glare Danny threw him.

"I have a proposition for you," the older ghost began. Danny perked up in intrigue. "I know of another earth dimension with some problems that need to be addressed. Your role as High King puts you in a position to be helpful."

"Their problem has to do with the Realms?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Ectoplasm from the Realms is pooling into what are referred to on their planet as Lazarus Pits. They are both helpful and harmful as they do not dissipate into the air so they continually collect and concentrate emotion, but they do sometimes revive the dead."

Danny grimaced in disgust at the thought of dunking a person into a stagnant pool of contaminated ectoplasm. "That sounds disgusting."

"Quite," Clockwork agreed.

"So what's your proposition?"

"Well, if it is agreeable to you, I would like to de-age your physical form and place you with a family that's had dealings with the Pits firsthand. I've found them to be quite charming."

"Ah, so you want me to go in undercover?" Danny couldn't help but roll his eyes a little. It wasn't a half bad idea. He could try his hand at childhood again and still get to handle his duties as King Phantom. Leading a double life again would be easy enough, it was just stepping from one role into another.

"Not at all." Clockwork smiled knowingly. Danny was officially suspicious of his ghost guardian. "This planet has had all kinds of dealings with the occult, and even humans with superpowers isn't that unusual. While I would advise against telling anyone you are a king right away, you are in fact just that: a king. You may do what you wish."

For an ancient and wise time ghost, Danny thought Clockwork was really shit at hiding his expressions. Though he tried to keep the grin off his face, Danny could clearly see the twitching of his lips and gleam in his eyes that promised the old man was scheming.

But to get his childhood back. Or, at least a semblance of one... it deserved consideration. Danny looked back out at the cityscape again. Sam and Tucker... they were down there graduating from high school without him. He'd been the one to encourage them to pull away from Team Phantom activities to zero in on their studies, but he didn't regret it. Sam wanted to major in environmental science and Tucker wanted to go to MIT and he just didn't fit into those plans. After Jazz left for Stanford, his parents often forgot he was still there. He'd managed to convince them to study ghosts properly instead of hunting them, and with a little help from the "friendly ghost King Phantom" they were given a place to start. They dove into their research with the same excitement and fervor they'd had all their lives. Which of course meant he went days, sometimes weeks, without seeing them emerge from the lab. It was easy enough to slip past them to the portal while they were distracted.

The point was that he'd started to feel his anchor to this city, to this realm, start to dissipate as the people who kept him there started to break away from him. He still loved them, wanted to protect them, but they were safe and happy now. He felt fulfilled in his task of protecting them, but there was a buzzing beneath his skin to do more.

Danny took a deep and controlled breath. He didn't need it in his ghost form, but it felt good to feel his lungs stretch to fullness.

"When would I start?" He asked finally. The straight face Clockwork had been trying to keep, and he really was so bad at it, finally broke into a wide grin.

"Right now. Everything is already in place and your duties in the Realms will be taken care of in your absence."

Danny smiled softly at his guardian. Clockwork sure had a funny way of showing it, but he cared so deeply for the boy next to him that when Danny responded with a bad pun, he couldn't even be annoyed.

"Well, no time like the present!" He winked.

Clockwork chuckled, and with a flash of light, he sent Danny on his way.

The more time the older ghost spent with his young ward, the more he appreciated him. The Danny he’d come to know was nothing like the Danny’s from other worlds he’d encountered while trying to prevent Dan from existing. His Danny was now truly one of a kind. None of the others, not even the ones that eventually turned into Dan, had been Ancients. There would never be another Danny like him, and every universe was adjusting to include him should he ever decide to visit them. He had a place in any world, should he choose, but Clockwork knew he was needed most in the one he’d sent him to. It would be truly entertaining to watch the young Ancient settle into his role there, and Clockwork was actually finding himself looking forward to it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was dark and quiet a long while before Danny opened his eyes. And when he did open them it got really loud and really bright really fast. It belatedly occurred to him that he should have asked like a billion more questions before agreeing to be iseaki’d into a different dimension to join a family he knew literally nothing about.

There was shouting before someone in what looked like a ninja cult uniform shoved a knife into his hand and pushed him in the path of a person in a different uniform. The man in front of him was dressed in blue and black and wearing a mask that covered his eyes, but Danny could see the surprised shape of his mouth before it morphed into something like anger. And then he was being lunged at.

He shrieked as he dodged out of the way. Not his most graceful save, but whatever. His voice was a bit shrill and his center of gravity felt way off. He must have actually been de-aged! He wondered how old he was now. He still felt light on his feet thanks to his ghost half which felt blessedly intact. But the other guy was fast and he ducked into a roll just in time to dodge whatever weapon he was holding. This guy meant business, but he had no idea why he was trying to kill him.

‘Great, thanks Grandfather Clock for throwing me right back into the good ol’ days,’ he thought sarcastically. Nobody had attacked him for no good reason like that since Walker and Fright caught Skulker mid hunt for the very last time.

What he now saw was a baton swung down from overhead and Danny knew he wouldn't dodge it in time, so he caught it with the flat of the blade that had been shoved into his hands.

“Wait! Why are we fighting?” Danny yelled, panicked as the guy pushed more force into it. The man's face twisted into something like confusion for a moment and he backed off just the tiniest bit before the scuffing of shoes to his right had him looking over just in time to see another guy in a mask, this time in red, rushing at him. He threw his hands up in surrender.

“Wait!” He shrieked before he was absolutely bodied sideways into the ground.

Why was he doing this? He was half ghost, he could have just gone intangible and disappeared. He didn't have to be body slammed into the ground. Wasn't he a child now? Did that guy in red actually just slam a whole child into the ground?

“Red, hold on! This one's different!”

“What do you mean?” The guy Red asked. He was still pinning Danny to the ground.

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Danny asked breathlessly, then whimpered, “Someone please tell me what's going on!”

The one hovering over him must have seen something on his face that convinced him to not try and kill him anymore, because he grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him along.

“We'll take him in for questioning. Don't let Robin see him.”

“Who's Robin?!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a long, arduous, and confusing journey from wherever they were to… well, wherever they were now. They'd blindfolded him for the transport so he still had no idea what was going on. He had learned that the guy with batons was Nightwing, and Red was actually Red Robin. The one they called Robin was a feral looking thing with swords, he was very small and stabby. Then there was Batman, and he totally threw off the whole bird theme but was easily the most intimidating. And that was all he knew so far. He'd been restrained at an interrogation table.

Danny groaned and knocked his forehead onto the table. He really, really wished he'd asked Clockwork more questions. He'd at least been able to catch a glimpse of himself in the glass behind Batman. He looked like he was eleven or twelve again, which was not as young as he'd been expecting, but much more preferable than being a literal toddler. The group of people he’d been brought in by seemed to be heroes. They were all incredibly weary of him, but hadn’t gone out of their way to harm him since his capture. Though it was hard to call it a capture when there wasn’t a chase involved.

“How old are you?” Batman asked suddenly. His voice was low and rough and somehow Danny could tell it didn't sound like that naturally.

“Um, maybe eleven or twelve?” Danny replied carefully, picking up his head from the table and having the decency to look a little embarrassed.

“And what's your name?” He looked like he was expecting something.

“My name is Danny, sir.”

“Hmm…”

It was quiet and awkward for a long moment.

“Why are you different from the other clones?”

“Yeeeaaah, I'm not a clone.” Danny absolutely did not jump when the brute slammed the file folder shut in front of him.

“We'll see what your DNA results have to say about that,” he said confidently before turning to leave, his cape dramatically flaring out behind him.

Sheesh, and he thought he’d had a flair for the dramatics.

‘Okay, time for some assessment,’ Danny thought to himself as he looked around the small closed room. It was soundproofed incredibly well. While he didn’t have super crazy hearing, it was enhanced by his ghost half, and combined with his other sharp senses, it tended to help him gather more information than others could. The most he could hear outside the room was a quiet hum of activity and nothing discernible. Still, he needed to decide how much he would say to these people. How much truth did he want to weave into his tale? These people clearly already had their own assumptions about him in mind, and while there was absolutely nothing wrong with being a clone, he knew he didn’t have what it took to keep up an act like that for long, which would just end up being awkward for everyone.

He also would not be telling them about his status as Ghost King, per Clockwork’s suggestion. His captors seemed like the uptight sort, and revealing that he was a big, scary ghost monarch didn’t seem like it’d go over well. Telling them he was a halfa would probably get them off his back over the clone thing, at least. He went over the list in his head.

He was a halfa from another dimension, so he couldn’t be a clone.

He had no plans of fighting with anyone unless absolutely necessary.

He did not have a way back to his other dimension.

His name was Danny, and he didn’t have a family anymore.

He did not know why he was in the middle of whatever fight he woke up in.

No, he didn’t know those people.

Danny must’ve been lost in thought for quite a while because his thoughts were interrupted by Batman bursting back through the door. The man’s demeanor had changed completely and he whipped off his cowl to reveal disheveled dark hair, blue eyes, and an expression of absolute heartbreak that accompanied his shuddering breaths. With the mask off, he reminded Danny a lot of his father.

Batman searched his face and, much like Red Robin had before, seemed to notice something there.

“She did it twice,” he muttered to himself. “Two of them this whole time and she didn’t tell me about either of them,” he said through gritted teeth. His frown deepened. Danny copied his frown.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He still had no idea what was going on.

#dcxdp #danny phantom #batman #danny fenton #fanfiction #damian wayne #batfam #just having fun with all the tropes #danny and damian are twins #except they're also kinda not #danny just wants to be a kid again #clockwork is scheming again #not even damian is safe from it #danny wanted something to do and clockwork dropped him and and said “go fix this”#also this is like barely edited

2K notes · View notes

astatia-ghast · 1 year ago

Text

The King's Quest

At last! Finally, it has come -- my 2023 Holiday Truce gift for @hailsatanacab!

You're a trooper. I'm sure it drove you crazy to wait all this time. I wanted to give you a preview on Christmas Day to tie you over, but it took too long for me to settle on how I wanted to fill this prompt. I hope you'll forgive me for the wait!

The prompt I chose is this one: "To ascend to the throne, Danny must complete a quest. This is great, because Danny doesn't want the throne! Screw the quest — Danny's hanging out with his friends and going to school like the normal boy he is! …Unfortunately, fate has other ideas. No matter what he does or how badly he tries to do the opposite, Danny just keeps fumbling his way into winning the crown."

It was a great challenge for me because while I have spent plenty of time daydreaming about the ghost king AU, I don't typically read or write fanfiction about it. This prompt helped me exit my comfort zone while still letting me work with the characters and tone I love.

Before I began to work on this, I spent a lot of time lurking on your blog to figure out what kind of fanfiction you like, and I must say, you seem like a pretty cool person. I'm glad I was paired with you!

And of course, a big thanks to @phandomholidaytruce for making this whole thing happen! It was my first time participating, and it was a delightful way to end the year.

Alright, enough thanks! On to the fic!

Read on AO3

---

"I never wanted you to find out this way."

Danny leans frozen over a basin still shimmering with the ripples of a just-disturbed future. His eyes are wide, heart pounding, vision tunneling, knuckles white around the rim.

There's no way he saw what he just saw. There's no way.

Behind him, Clockwork watches in silence. He had left the room for only a moment, and Danny had taken the opportunity to sate a curiosity that he now knows should never have been sated. He had stuck his face in the basin, and he had seen a future — a future of him.

"This is my future?"

"It is one of them."

Danny turns around. His eyes are still wide and his body shaking, but Clockwork's words are like a steadying stone he can latch on to. "So it doesn't have to be this way?"

Clockwork's lips grow thin. He rests his staff by the door he had just entered, slowly and measuredly, as if stalling for time. Even once his hands are free, the silence grows longer still; long enough for him to shift into a toddler and then an elder and then an adult again before any word breaks the stillness of the tower.

At last, he speaks. "The truth is, the clock started ticking the moment you deposed Pariah Dark. It is one future of many, but its passing has already been etched in stone."

As if in emphasis, a clock strikes eleven somewhere deep within the tower.

"You will become King."

Ectoplasmically-white petals falling from the sky. Ghostly crowds cheering. A cape. A crown. A parade. A coronation.

Daniel Jack Fenton, King of the Infinite Realms.

Even now, the tower seems to sing to him — regally, mockingly. He wonders if those ripples in the basin are cascading through the timeline, setting in place the bars that will one day imprison him.

"No. I can't be a king." A bead of sweat trails down his temple, tickling him as it goes. "I can barely deal with my life as it is. And no ghost is going to listen to me — all they want to do is attack me. I want to go to school and play video games and at least try to get into NASA. I don't want to be a king."

Clockwork's lips draw even thinner still. In the silence that follows, his gaze falls to one of his many watches, which he begins to twist idly with one hand.

"I remember many things," he says with a hushed rumble. "Pariah Dark was a great king, until he was not."

His gaze grows unfocused. The hand on his watch goes to his face, where it slowly traces his scar. Danny has never seen him do that before.

"I remember the destruction he wrought. I remember looking him in the eyes as he was shut inside his tomb."

His hand falls to his side as his gaze meets Danny's once more.

"You are more than triple the man he ever was. You would make a great king."

Danny's hands go to his head, where his fingers thread through his hair. He takes a step backward in some subconscious attempt to get away from Clockwork and this — this lie, but he runs into the basin still shimmering behind him. Its pedestal rocks dangerously, and Danny wants to scream enough for his Ghostly Wail to take over and shatter the wretched thing into pieces.

But instead of screaming, a fire bursts into life within him. He meets Clockwork's gaze afresh with blazing eyes. "No. I'm not going to become King. You're going to have to find a new future, because that one is not coming true."

Clockwork's expression turns into something like pity. It's enough to quiet the fire for a beat — just a beat, though. "Danny." He drifts forward until the two of them are within reaching distance. He lifts his hands as if to place them on Danny's shoulders, but then he seems to reconsider it and clasps them in front of himself instead. "The Realms have been heralding your arrival since the dawn of my work. You are going to become King."

Danny says nothing. The fire crackles in protest, but it doesn't know what to burn.

Clockwork sighs. He raises one of those hands he dropped before, and at last, it makes contact with Danny's shoulder. "If it helps, it's not going to happen right away. There is a quest you must complete before you take the throne. You can—"

"A quest?" Danny's eyebrows fly up. He latches onto this thread like a rope draped over a cliffside.

"Yes, a quest. Before any monarch can ascend, they must—"

A bark of laughter escapes Danny's throat, and then a font of mad cackling bubbles up behind it. He cackles like a man unhinged, having found the simple yet ingenious solution to all his woes.

Clockwork's eyebrows knit together. "Danny—"

"Don't you get it?!" he jeers. "If I don't know what the quest is, I can't become King!"

Clockwork grows stern. He says his name again — "Danny" — and this time it's clear he wants him to quit laughing and sit down and listen, but Danny isn't having it. He's already lifting himself up into the air and away.

"Start checking your futures, Clockwork, because you missed one! I'm not becoming King!"

Clockwork reaches out as if to restrain him, but the fire finally explodes. Danny violently pushes him away with ectoplasmically-charged hands, keeping one ectoblast at the ready for good measure.

"Stay. Away." His voice is charged in a way that it has rarely ever been before. An otherworldly chill dampens the room. Clockwork is far too powerful a ghost to be affected by it, but if any human had been in this room, they would be screaming.

Clockwork gets the message. He watches with trepidation as Danny flies away.

---

Danny returns to Amity Park determined to slide right back into his normal life and pretend like that moment in the tower never happened. To forget about what he saw — petals, a cape, a crown — is impossible, but hell if he's not going to try his hardest to stay as far away as possible from anything even remotely king-like.

And so he does. He goes to school, fights ghosts, gets bad grades, listens to his parents' mad-scientist ramblings, plays video games, sleeps over at Sam and Tucker's houses, and generally lives exactly the life he'd rather live.

And he doesn't visit Clockwork in all that time, either. It pains him, as he enjoys Clockwork's company a lot and had even become something of an apprentice to him, but he can't risk subjecting himself to some well-intentioned lecture about the virtues of being King.

…Plus, he did kind of assault him and run away. Clockwork probably isn't very happy with him. But apologies would have to wait — for some future in which he isn't King.

School. Ghost fights. Bad grades. Mad-scientist ramblings. Video games. Sleepovers.

Life goes on.

---

Sometime after Danny defeats Undergrowth, Sam drags him along to the Amity Park Botanic Gardens. Well, "drags" is a strong word — he's grateful for any excuse to hang out with Sam — but still, the thought of visiting a botanic garden and admiring plants in the wake of Undergrowth's reign of terror is insane. He expresses as much, but Sam insists that that's all the more reason to visit, as both of them need to unravel their new Pavlovian fear of perfectly innocent plant life.

Plus, apparently admissions are way down — surprise, surprise — and Sam wants to help them out before the dip in finances forces them to shutter. Fair enough.

She tried to get Tucker to come along too, but there was zero chance of getting him through the doors even before Undergrowth gifted the whole city with a healthy dose of botanophobia. So that fine day finds the two of them alone in the Gardens' newly-opened orchid exhibit, Danny antsily resisting the temptation to reach out and hold her hand.

Under the canopy lush with tropical leaves, it's hard not to feel cocooned — in a way that feels remarkably warm and safe. Everywhere they look, orchids peer back, bright and colorful with every color of the rainbow. There are big orchids and small orchids, potted orchids hanging from the limbs of towering trees, orchids that look like pinecones, orchids that look like neat tufts of fur, orchids with stripes and orchids with whiskers.

To Sam's very great credit, the exhibit is astounding, and even his shriveled, technology-loving heart can't help but marvel and be thankful that she convinced him to come here.

In time, he finds himself growing drowsy. It's like the peace and beauty of the place is infectious, to the point where his heart rate seems to slow. Eventually, he turns to Sam and asks, "Would you like to lay down?"

She agrees, and the two of them pick one of the few spots in the exhibit not overtaken by stone pathways or lush vegetation. They spend a few minutes chatting about something or other, but in time, they lapse into a peaceful silence, and Danny begins to space out.

He stares up at the canopy. The sunlight, so radiant and soft, seems to sparkle as it filters through the roof of the greenhouse and the tropical leaves below. Somewhere, a stream gurgles.

And there is a song. It takes a moment for him to realize that he's hearing it, but once he does, it's unquestionably there. It's distant and peaceful, echoing, like standing outside the door of a lofty cathedral while a choir sings inside. Sluggishly, he looks around, and as his lazy eyes focus on the beautiful strands of a white orchid, he is suddenly positive that the song is coming from them. From the orchids. From all the plants in the greenhouse, and perhaps even beyond. He doesn't know how he knows, but he knows.

He falls into a trance, enjoying the song, until suddenly, there is a sharp poke on his shoulder. He sluggishly turns his head to see Sam, who has clearly been trying to get his attention.

"Earth to ghost boy. Anyone home?"

Danny blinks a few times, but his eyes are reluctant to focus. He feels like he just surfaced from a dream. "Sorry. I was just… It's nice in here."

Sam chuckles. "You're really enjoying yourself, huh? Way more than I thought you would."

Danny chuckles too. "Yeah. You were right. I'm glad you convinced me to come here."

Now that his mind is clearing up, it slowly begins to dawn on him how utterly bizarre the last several minutes were. Plants? Singing to him? Surely he's just imagining things — he wants to believe that's the case — but no. Somehow, he's sure. Those plants were singing to him.

Maybe a touch of Undergrowth's power is still in them, like some sort of ectoplasmic residue? That's the only explanation he can think of, and it makes sense, since these very same plants were undoubtedly enthralled by the ghost just a few weeks ago. But why were they singing?

He decides not to tell Sam. He doesn't know why, but it just feels like something he should keep to himself, and not just because it sounds crazy. So he files it under "ghost thing" and leaves it at that.

It's not until he's watching a video in history class a few days later that he realizes that the song sounded an awful lot like a coronation song.

---

Something similar happens after he defeats Nocturn. Three sleepless nights after he sends the ghost back to the Ghost Zone, he's finally too tired to care whether or not he will show up in his dreams again the moment he closes his eyes.

As he slips into the twilight zone between wakefulness and sleep, ensconced in a darkness broken by one particularly annoying street light, his dreams turn into something… odd.

Before him, he sees seven creatures like Nocturn — tall, dark and starry, like the night sky made manifest. He slips into a ready position, poised to either fight or run, but instead of attacking, they bring their palms together and bow, all seven in unison. And then there is at once a horde of similar creatures behind them, stretching as far as the eye can see, bringing their palms together and bowing in turn.

He wakes in a cold sweat. No. There's no way. There's no way this king thing is still following him. That couldn't be real.

He spends the next day convincing himself it was just a dream, but really, he knows better.

---

The moments keep piling up. When he defeats Vortex, the clouds seem to part for him wherever he goes. When he returns Pandora's box, an ornate jewelry box mysteriously appears on his desk, which, when opened, reveals cavernous, physics-defying depths. Danny grows increasingly concerned that the ghosts have waived his quest and are pledging their fealty to him anyway.

When Clockwork appears in his bedroom one night, nearly a full year since their fight in his tower, Danny is no longer nervous to see him. Actually, he's quite relieved, since at this point, the only thing he's concerned about is getting answers.

"Would you like to have a chat?" Clockwork asks with a smile that almost seems sheepish.

It's a non-question, of course; Danny goes readily, and he's sure that Clockwork knew that he would.

Entering the tower is almost like coming home. A calm quiet; ticking; cavernous rooms cast in shadow — the whole place seems to envelop him in a hug, and briefly, Danny feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes. The past several months have been stressful. He regrets the way he treated Clockwork the last time he was here, and he regrets that he didn't have the maturity to return much earlier.

But Clockwork is ever calm and welcoming, and Danny finds thankfulness shooing away the regret in his heart. What a remarkable person Clockwork is.

The two of them stop in the same room with the basin, whose waters stand completely still. At first, Danny thinks Clockwork is going to encourage him to revisit his future, but instead, he opens a cabinet standing against the opposite wall. As he reaches inside, he says, "I have something for you."

Danny waits, more than a little curious and struggling to resist the urge to see if his coronation is still in the basin. When Clockwork turns around, he's carrying a necklace — not unlike the medallions he uses to take people out of time, but much more ornate. Gently and in silence, he drapes the necklace around Danny's neck. Once it settles, he rests his palms against Danny's chest, in a way that makes Danny think something weighty is about to come.

Their eyes meet. "You recall what I said before, yes? That there is a quest you must complete?"

"Yes."

Clockwork smooths out the wrinkles on Danny's shoulders, and then his hands just stay there. "There is a reason I tried to restrain you. By refusing to learn the quest, you expedited its completion."

Everything in Danny goes cold.

"The quest was to either defeat or receive the approval of all seven of the Ancients: Pariah Dark, Frostbite, Undergrowth, Nocturn, Vortex, Pandora and myself. And you have done so for all of them — including me."

A rushing sound fills Danny's ears.

"You have had my approval since even before Pariah Dark was granted the throne. So with the bestowing of Pandora's gift, you have become King."

The necklace feels heavy around Danny's neck — a necklace he now realizes is a coronation gift.

"I am sorry, Danny. But I stand by what I said before: you will make a great king."

Clockwork pulls him in for a hug, and Danny goes willingly. His wailing fills the tower.

Somewhere deep inside, a clock strikes twelve.

---

Ectoplasmically-white petals falling from the sky. Ghostly crowds cheering. A cape. A crown. A parade. A coronation.

Danny's knuckles go white around his scepter, just as they did around the basin all those months ago.

Daniel Jack Fenton, King of the Infinite Realms.

---

(Yes, I may have warped the timeline of Season 3 just a little bit. Clockwork will be waiting in the lobby to take your complaints! :þ)

#Danny Phantom #Phandom Truce 2023 #The King’s Quest #fanfiction #phanphiction #Danny Fenton #Clockwork #Lost Time #ghost king #Astatia Writing #It feels so good to use the “Astatia Writing” tag again. <3

119 notes · View notes

phantomskeep · 2 years ago

Text

Putting the “Fun” Back in “Funeral”: Chapter Two

AO3 Link | Chapter One --- Chapter Three

Chapter Two: A King, a Clock, a Bird, and a Bat All Walk Into a Bar…

Well after the last echoes of the haunting song had faded from the Zone, Danny could be found in his newly acquired throne room with Clockwork - who was radiating so much pride it almost physically hurt. The older ghost was turned towards Danny, gently bobbing up and down in front of the large chair he insisted Danny sat on. Between finishing the coronation and now, hours had long since passed. This time was spent dancing amongst his people, accepting handshakes left and right, brushing his aura of happiness-I love you all-you are under my protection against the many ghosts around him. While Danny’s inner introvert was cringing at the social interaction, the man could not say he would have traded it for anything in the world. It was downright magical to be surrounded by such pure, unfiltered joy for hours on end. Danny was sure he could have spent the rest of his half-life happily mingling with the many spooks who resided in the Ghost Zone. However, when Pandora’s strong hand rested against his bicep and her soothing voice whispered that Clockwork was waiting for him inside the Keep, Danny reluctantly had to leave.

While the ghost may have been the Master of Time, the young king had learned over the past few years that it did not make him the Master of Patience.

So Danny had hurriedly entered his ugly new haunt and found himself ushered to sit on the throne that was now his. Much like the rest of the castle, Danny considered the throne to be quite an eyesore. It wasn’t gaudy enough to be made of bones, or skulls, or whatever typical “Throne of the Dead King” Danny was expecting it to be. Rather, the dark wooden chair was adorned with an ectoplasm green cushion. Carvings of the royal artifacts were ingrained in the backing of the wooden throne, and the armrests were plain squares. It wasn’t something that was overly horrible to look at, but it simply didn’t suit Danny’s tastes.

While Danny was pondering the new furniture of his humble abode, Clockwork floated in front of the young king. The time-themed ghost cleared his throat to get the other’s attention.

“King Phantom,” he started, ignoring Danny’s protesting noises. “I wanted to officially welcome you into the era of Phantom’s Reign.”

A small smile graced Danny’s lips as he bowed his head to acknowledge his mentor. “Thank you, Clockwork. I know I can count on you to help my era to be one of peace and prosperity.” The young man leaned back on his throne, wanting to splay out like a lazy cat. “Is there something you wanted to talk about? I was actually enjoying socializing, for once.”

Danny’s mentor let out a small chuckle, his forms changing as he spoke. “But of course, my King. I merely wanted to inquire what you would do next?”

“... What do you mean, Clockwork?” Danny’s hesitantly confused voice echoed eerily across the grand room, as he cautiously rose from his slouch.

“Are you finally going to tell your friends and family?”

The King of the Infinite Realms snapped to attention, eyes boring holes into his mentor. Muscles were tensed, faux-breathing completely stilled, as Danny forced out his response. “Tell them what, exactly.”

“That you are not only the King of the Realms, but also a member of it.” Clockwork’s voice took on more of his lecturing-tone as he spoke. “Danny, you have been dead for seven years. Is it not time your parents knew?”

The young man rose from his seat, starting to pace the large room. His star-laden cloak hissed against the dark cobblestone as Danny’s frustrated body warred between ‘fight’ and ‘flight’. It was when he stalled beneath a worn tapestry depicting a battle between Pariah Dark and an unknown ghost that Danny spoke.

“It’s not their burden to know,” he said, trying to will wisdom into his still-young voice. “My parents, if they didn’t try to rip me apart ‘molecule by molecule’, they would be destroyed if they realized their greatest achievement killed their greatest failure.” Danny’s hands shook as he spoke and he tried to steady them by gripping the sill of one of the many windows along the grand hall he was in. The young man cast his eyes upwards, distantly taking in the faux-stars made of stained glass, before resting his heavy gaze on the thousands of souls still celebrating his crowning.

“Everyone else,” he sighed, voice barely a whisper, “they all have their own lives. My friends don’t need my fucked-up half-life ruining theirs.”

Clockwork’s aura of disapproval grew closer to Danny, but he didn’t dare look at his mentor. He’s heard this oncoming lecture so many times the young king was sure he would be able to quote it. Nonetheless, when Clockwork opened an arm out to his apprentice, Danny gratefully leaned into the older ghost’s embrace.

“You know what I am going to tell you,” Clockwork murmured. “So I won’t. But I can tell you, my King, that the option to not explain to your inner circle is a good one. For the timeline, for you, for your reign.”

Danny just about cried when he felt Clockwork’s hand brushing gently against his hair. It had been so long since he last felt safe in his own father’s embrace - his old memories and fears were simply too much for him to ever be comfortable again. It’s why Danny rejected the idea of him telling his parents of his other half so harshly. Even the thought of the people who raised him (even if it really was more Jazz than them) refusing to have a relationship with Danny hurt. Danny loved his family and friends more than anything else. He loved them so much that he was willing to rip himself apart in order to not drown in the pain-sorrow-grief that haunted his every waking moment. The thought of Danny losing them again? Even if it was through them rejecting all of him?

The young king wasn’t sure anything could survive that level of grief.

“What should I do, then?” Danny asked weakly, wanting to bury himself in his pseudo-father’s embrace and hide himself from the world.

An echoing sigh hummed against Danny. A familiar aura of you are loved-nothing will hurt you-I will guide you soothed the trembling anxiety-grief-not again pouring off of Danny’s shaken form. “There are two options that would be best,” Clockwork began. “The first is you travel back to your home dimension and explain everything to the humans you hold so dearly. Or,” the old ghost continued before Danny could voice his protests. “There is another dimension that has been feeding off of the Realms. Artifacts of our powers have fallen through, the dead have risen, and there have been reported leaks of ectoplasm bleeding into their reality. I was going to suggest you send another ghost to clean up these issues, but I also believe you can benefit from a… sabbatical, of sorts, into this dimension.”

This information whirled around Danny’s head. The years of kingly training helped the king to mentally organize everything and sort through it all. It was not a fast process, by any means, but Danny had gotten quicker at picking up the important bits over the years. However, one thing stood out to him the most.

“What about Amity Park and my friends? My family?”

The older ghost squeezed Danny firmly against his side when the halfa tried to pull away from his mentor. “Amity Park will be the same when you return, though maybe a week or two later in the timeline. But if you decide to take up the hunting of artifacts I can alter when you go back into your original dimension with ease.”

“That won’t hurt the timeline?” Danny asked, incredulous. “The Observants were on my ass the last time you altered everything for me!”

Clockwork’s laugh startled Danny enough that he fazed out of the blue ghost’s hug. The young man stared at the now-child in front of him, mouth gaping.

While Clockwork was easily something of a father-figure to Danny, the halfa also had been trying to get the ghost to laugh as much as possible for the past five years. From his best puns, to funny situations, and even on one memorable occasion, a drunken rant about the benefits to petting ducks in the park, Danny had only gotten a fond chuckle out of the Master of Time.

A sarcastic reference to the Observants trying to murder Danny should not have made Clockwork laugh.

Danny eyed the other with obvious suspicion. “What’s funny about that?”

The older’s form aged up as his chuckles died down. “You simply reminded me of when the Observants came to me about this very issue.” Clockwork loosened the grip on his staff and used it to lazily gesture towards Danny’s throne. “They came to me months ago, warning me of how our timeline was going down the most horrible path. Danny Phantom, a half-dead ghost child with too much power taking the throne? It was something out of a nightmare for them.”

When Danny’s eyes flitted nervously downwards, his body unconsciously curling in a defensive motion, Clockwork used his staff to gently lift his king’s head. Pupilless red eyes met burning green, and a comforting expression graced the middle-aged ghost’s face. “My King, they were very wrong. This is the best possible timeline - one with such a powerful king who wishes only for peace? Whose Obsession isn’t one of power, or rage, or a burning greed, but of protection? Danny, this is the best timeline, the best era - and it is because of you. The Observants are correct with many of their findings, but they can make mistakes like any other being. Their power resides in control.” Here Clockwork paused, a mirthful feeling brushing against Danny’s calming one. “This is something I know you are very aware of. They fear the lack of control they will have during this timeline. It was their goal to gain control of the throne through you, but I’ve made sure the Observants failed every time.”

Danny’s eyes widened, a small gasp escaping his lips. Tears welled in his expressive eyes as he tackled his mentor into a monkey-gripped hug. The older ghost chuckled, easily returning the embrace. His form shifted, aging quickly as he ran time-wrinkled hands along the young king’s back.

“I had suggested a boarding school, of sorts.” Clockwork whispered into his apprentice’s hair. “A chance for you to go and stretch your proverbial wings. This other dimension has an old friend of mine who has offered to continue with your teachings, and the Earth there has many different protectors you can learn from. Of course, there are still duties you will need to attend to.” The old ghost broke from Danny’s clinging hug, looking the twenty-one year old king in his eyes. “It will be dangerous. There are many different forces who now have their eyes on you, my King. But know that if you choose to go this route, you will always be able to access the Infinite Realms and the dimensions attached to her.”

Danny discreetly wiped his eyes, nodding in agreement with Clockwork. A burning determination danced in his eyes as Danny’s gaze steadfastly stared into his most trusted advisor’s. “I need to explain things to my family, at least a little bit. Tell them I’m going on a mission for you at the very least - but I’ll be back. I’ll go to this other dimension and do what I can to be a better king for my people.”

The Master of Time nodded his head, his reaching aura’s booming with pride. “My dear child, just saying that makes you a much better ruler than those before you.”

ρ(￣ﾍ￣ﾒ)

Clockwork watched as Danny Phantom flew off into the great green abyss of the Infinite Realms. The old ghost was left alone in the Ghost King’s Keep, watching as Pariah Dark’s influence on the castle slowly faded. Dark reds bled into cooler tones, the brickwork shifting from harsh lines to smoother, more comforting cuts. Time passed as the Master of Time watched. The sounds of celebration had yet to slow down after the many hours ticked away. Clockwork knew that if Danny’s coronation was anything like Pariah Dark’s, the denizens of the Realms would party for weeks on end.

However, instead of joining in the festivities like the others on the Council of Ancients, the time ghost had another important meeting to attend. Clockwork allowed the quick passage of time to overcome his form, aging him down like an ancient phoenix recently reborn from its own ashes. His young body turned to face the newest ghost king’s throne as a maelstrom of blue energy rapidly criss-crossed around his form. Wild winds whipped Clockwork’s pale purple cloak as a dark clock’s hand appeared behind him, sweeping in a large clockwise motion to reveal a swirling blue and teal portal. The sound of an old grandfather clock being struck echoed hauntingly across the empty room of Phantom’s Keep as the hands reached the metaphorical twelfth numeral. When the clock-hands began their descent backwards in time, the Master of Time was swept under them, disappearing into the portal of his own creation. The hands again struck the midnight position with the last thrum of a dull, heavy, monotonous clang - once again leaving the now-empty room with the wistful cry of an old clock.

On a different world - one full of heroes, aliens, and otherworldly forces fighting vicious battles for justice -, a smog-filled city held within the dark heart of an old ghost was just starting to awaken. When Clockwork’s portal faded from view, time snapped back into place. Loud honking filled his ears as the Master of Time floated above a striking clock tower, his back turned to the ever-moving bay that lapped at the shores of such an inspiring city. A low voice caught Clockwork’s attention, but he did not turn to face the ghost.

“Perfect timing as always, Clockwork.” The voice was lofty, easily gliding over syllables with an ease born of hundreds of years.

The purple-cloaked ghost tilted his head in a small greeting, his words spilling past smiling lips. “As always, Lady Gotham, it is my pleasure to be welcomed into your haunt.”

Lady Gotham’s sentient spirit was a dark amalgamation of vapors pouring off a vaguely-tangible, constantly shifting body made of pure black. The spirit’s form twisted herself to be seen on the edges of Clockwork’s vision. The Master of Time allowed himself to miss the olden days for a brief moment, back when Gotham’s form was more solid. Those days were long gone, however, and Clockwork moved himself past the thoughts of an old mind.

“My friend, you know you are always welcomed into my city,” Gotham spoke, though no mouth formed. Her eyes, red and pupiless like his own, stretched across where her face currently was. “It is not like I am able to visit your own lair, after all.”

Clockwork’s head shifted to the side, and he thought carefully before he spoke. “With King Phantom officially on the throne, Pariah Dark’s banishments are no longer being upheld. You are more than welcome into the Realms, my Lady.”

A low snarl echoed across the clock tower the two ecto-entities graced. In the sun’s first rays of light Clockwork was subjected to see his old friend’s form writhe in her fury.

“Never,” she growled, “not until all of his influence is gone.”

Clockwork nodded in agreement. “I will let you know when that is.” He promised, pausing again. “The coronation was a sight to see,” the old ghost broached the topic carefully. “I had not seen the people so happy since…”

Clockwork let his voice trail off, now looking at Gotham’s form.

“… I felt it,” she spoke. “And so did one of my own.” Her eyes cast over the brightening city, to the northeast where even now Clockwork could barely feel the smallest of souls touched by the Infinite Realms resting. “It was wonderful.”

“That it was.”

The city spirit floated contently for a brief period before breaking the comfortable silence between the two old ghosts. “I take it our young king has agreed to your offer?”

The Master of Time smiled at the thought of his young ward. “But of course. He does seem to love procrastinating on some of the oddest things.”

Gotham’s laugh echoed across the pink-blue skies rolling over the normally gray city. “Well, knowing the last royal I spent my time around, it may just be a trait of the Realms’ Rulers.” She paused, taking a moment to let grief wash her beautiful city in a brief moment of hiding the rising sun behind a low-hanging cloud. “But that is all the more reason to send him my way.”

“Of course,” Clockwork agreed. “Hopefully young Danny can learn many new skills while he stays in your care, my friend. I worry about his ties to his human half… He did not even tell his living friends and family about the coronation.”

Lady Gotham shook her form, wisps of rolling fog and thunder floating off her form. “That simply will not do. He will learn well, under my teachings. This dimension is not an easy one to survive in - but I promise you, Master of Time, that he will thrive here.”

The older ghost smiled at his friend, speaking with a confidence only the seeing-eye of the Ghost Realm could muster. “I know he will.” He cast his red gaze out over the city Gotham had come to call home. “It had changed since I was last here,” he murmured. Clockwork could recall when he first entered this dimension - though by the time he arrived, decades had already passed for his friend. Gotham had been a small city then, easily growing under the influence of the town’s ghostly namesake. Since then, it seemed to have bloomed under Lady Gotham’s steady care, turning into a gothic city worthy of its name and its protector.

“That it has.” Gotham easily agreed, red eyes blinking. She slowly turned to face Clockwork, speaking in a careful tone. “Our newest king…” She began, hesitant. “Is he anything like her?”

Clockwork nodded, a sad look upon his ancient face. “In the best ways, my Lady.” He placed a comforting arm on her ever-changing form. “Will you be okay with this?”

A dark, foggy head nodded. “But of course.” A sheepish feeling brushed the edges of Clockwork’s consciousness. “I have had my people preparing for his stay, after all. I am very eager to meet the Realm’s Chosen - even more so after such a wonderful coronation.”

“Ah, yes,” Clockwork began, eyes drifting to where he could feel the smallest spark of a young ghost residing just within reach of Gotham’s grasp. “Is your ward doing well, after such a shock?”

Gotham’s tingling laugh echoed across the various buildings. Her laugh sounded like a train’s track nearing its final destination after a long journey. Relief, excitement, and a vague sense of world-weary exhaustion all rolled into an amalgamation of who she had chosen to become after so many decades away from the Realms. “My little knight is just fine,” she eased away from her laughter, a particular fondness overtaking her being. “He has dealt with so much more than a night of unexpected peace. I dare say it will be good for him.”

An ancient feeling of relief brushed against Gotham’s abashed form.

“I am glad to hear that.” Clockwork met Gotham’s eyes with a cunning smile. “The timestream has many plans for your knight, my Lady. He and our King will become quite the force to be reckoned with.”

“I have a feeling,” Gotham started, protectiveness riling her up. “That they will have a need to become such a power, what with everything you’ve been hinting at for nearly half a decade.”

Reassurance collided against Gotham like a tidal wave, making her form waver for just a split second. A particularly bad car accident occurred on the west side of the island in retaliation amidst Gotham’s wavering focus.

She turned with a snarl, looking to physically tell Clockwork off for his little games. “Do not do that again, Clockwork.” Gotham threatened, body becoming spiked in her anger much like a startled cat. “I am not as strong as I once was. It would do you well to remember that.”

“My apologies, Lady Gotham,” Clockwork started. He brushed the smallest hint of please forgive me-I am sorry against her bristling fury. “I forgot. It will not happen again.”

“It would do you well not to.”

Clockwork paused, glancing at one of the many clocks adorning his forearms. “I merely meant to let you know nothing unsavory will happen to your knight, nor the Crowned Head. Nothing that is not meant to be.” He looked at Lady Gotham’s glowering form. “I must be getting back to the Realms. Our king is almost ready to begin his time here, and I must guide him for a little bit longer before he comes into your capable care.”

Gotham snorted, an amused noise that helped to ease the tension between the two ancient powers. “But of course. Go, Master of Time. See to it that I am able to meet my new ward soon.”

“As you wish, my Lady.” Clockwork said, bending the upper half of his body in a motion of respect towards the younger ghost. With a dramatic wash of teal, Gotham was left alone.

It was there, on the roof of part of her knight’s many lairs that were scattered throughout her city, that Gotham let herself feel hope. For the first time since she had been banished from the Infinite Realms, Lady Gotham would finally be able to fulfill her final promise to her beloved Queen.

＼（Ｔ∇Ｔ）／

Jason’s day was no longer going pretty okay. His head throbbed between the foreign feelings spreading throughout his broad chest, only to be soothed by the cool air circulating around the teal-eyed man. His hands gripped soft sheets, breathing deliberately even. The echoing noises around Jason helped his groggy mind understand that he was not alone in the room. Slowly, he lifted his heavy eyelids and cast his gaze throughout the medical room he found himself in. It was when Jason’s eyes landed on the hunched over form of one Dick Grayson - still in his Nightwing uniform, barring his domino mask - that the undead young man relaxed.

From where Jason laid, he could see that Dick was not fully asleep. Dick’s breathing was nowhere near shallow enough for the older man to be off in dreamland. However, Jason heavily suspected his brother was dozing and would wake with the most uncomfortable crick in his neck.

It was then that Jason took stock of his memories, and himself, a bit more thoroughly. A fuzzy feeling lingered on the edges of his vision, and Jason was sure that if he tried to move any of his limbs their response would be slow. His memories were overridden by this same inconvenience - meaning that until anything was confirmed by his overly-paranoid family, Jason needed to assume he was drugged. Judging by Dick’s dirtied uniform, Jason could then conclude he was drugged while on a mission of some sort.

But the self-proclaimed zombie, for the life of him, could not remember anything past reading the the thirteenth canto of Dante’s Inferno. Jason could vaguely recall being pulled from Dante and Virgil’s grand adventure for something that was important - at least for the standards of the various bats and birds encroaching his precious time.

However, Jason’s thought process is interrupted by an undignified snort coming from the corner where Dick had previously been slumped over. The younger of the two raised an eyebrow in a practiced motion, eyeing the unmasked Nightwing as he startled himself awake. But, despite his less-than-graceful awakening, Dick Grayson was still a Bat. There were no flailing limbs, or graceless falling out of comfortable chairs. Instead, Dick’s head simply snapped up and his eyes immediately locked with Jason’s own.

“You’re awake!” The original Robin exclaimed, hurriedly standing and moving towards Jason’s bedside. “How are you feeling, Jay?”

Jason’s only response was to slowly hike his eyebrow higher. To himself, he would admit that he was a bit scared of what embarrassing confessions would slip past his drug-induced loose lips. Out loud, however, he would forever deny any such claims.

Dick paused, taking in his wayward brother’s appearance and sassy eyebrow. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair.” Bracing one of his muscular hips on Jason’s bed, the older man leaned down into the crime lord’s space. “You doing okay, though?”

Thinking heavily about his words, Jason carefully replied. “Everthin’ feels weir’.” The man grimaced at himself, working his jaw against the sudden stiffness he felt from speaking. “Th’ fuck happene’?”

A worried frown graced Dick’s usually smiling face, arms moving to cross at his chest. Jason’s brain struggled to try and read the body language presented to him, but it was a difficult task when his two working braincells decided to give their undivided attention to his slurring speech.

“We’re not too sure, Little Wing,” frustration painted Dick’s voice. “We were doing that drug bust when you suddenly went down. It was like you were drunk, out of the blue.”

“Did’ja check m’ cam footage?”

“That’s just it!” Dick exclaimed, uncrossing his arms to gesture with his hands. “There was nothing!”

Before Jason could continue to clumsily question Dick, the thick wooden door to the medical room opened. Tim’s head popped into Jason’s view, a determined frown on his face.

“Jason’s awake?” He asked, his sharp gaze met Jason’s own hazy one, responding to himself before the other occupants of the room could reply. “Okay, great. Blood panel was just finished, I’m gonna go grab the others to update them.”

And just like that, Tim’s form disappeared from view. An exasperated silence filled the air between Jason and Dick, both men locking eyes with similar looks on their faces.

“He’s on his third day without sleep,” Dick said as explanation.

Jason rolled his eyes, a small smirk overtaking his expression. “I couldn’ tell.” Sitting up was a Herculean task, but one Jason accomplished before Dick could stop him. Jason’s legs were very much deadweight, so he didn’t even attempt to try and stand. However, while Jason had gotten much more comfortable being around his family without blowing up on them (sometimes literally), the thought of lying flat on his back while they crowded him made his skin crawl. Unlike previous encounters with such a situation, though, Jason noticed a distinct lack of hazy green rage clouding his mind. Instead, all he could feel was an unearthly touch of content sitting heavily on his broad chest. Despite that, his head still felt heavier than it should, causing his vision to sway dangerously as Jason steadied himself.

Dick, the absolute mother hen, squawked in protest when his little brother started shifting himself around the bed. He anxiously hovered his hands around Jason, not getting close enough to spook his trigger-happy sibling, but still within the vicinity to help.

“You do know there’s a button to push the bed up, Jay.” Dick says in a strangled voice.

“An’ I have abs tha’ do the same exac’ th’ng.” Jason huffed, working said muscles to try and stay upright without leaning on anything. His attempts were proven futile, however, when Dick simply pressed one of the buttons on Bruce’s unnecessarily high-tech beds. “Fuckin’ fancy-ass rich bastar’s.”

A strangled chuckle left Dick as he heavily sat down near Jason’s feet, black and blue fingers lightly putting pressure around his ankle. “Amen to that.”

Jason couldn’t help but grin at his brother, still out of it enough to not be fully in control of his movements. It was like he kept swaying in and out of command of his own body. While he was actively using one brain cell to internally rage at the coddling Jason was currently receiving, his body just kept on floating up into the clouds without his say. To say the black-haired man did not like the state he was in would be an understatement.

This is why he avoided pain medicine, damn it.

Neither of the older men were able to continue their conversation, as they were interrupted with Tim opening the door again. However, this time he fully walked into the room. Behind him, a small army of Birds and Bats hovered, but only the big Bat himself followed his middle son into the room.

Bruce, for all Jason was still on unstable ground with the man, was visibly stressed and tired. Dark bags rested under his sharp blue eyes, contrasting the man’s slowly forming wrinkles. None of this stopped him from confidently striding forward from behind Tim, only hesitating a little before standing on Jason’s left side - naturally falling into place between the door and his children.

It was Tim who had most of Jason’s attention, the younger man scrolling on the tablet that was often attached to his hands when not near a computer. He had said something earlier about blood panels - Jason took a quick glance at the crook of his arm, only being able to look at the forming bruise for a second before having to shift his gaze away - and the second eldest of way too many siblings was very interested in that information.

“Jason,” Bruce’s soothing voice rolled over the mentioned man in a way that had Jason fighting himself to not relax. He would not react in any way besides anger, no siree. Jason was still pissed off at Bruce and getting drugged on the field is not going to be the cause of them fixing their many problems. He had a plan and he was going to stick to it, damnit. “How are you feeling?”

Rolling his extra-heavy head onto his left shoulder, Jason gave his not-father the sassiest look he had. “L’ke I’v b’n drugge’ l’ke a b’tch,” purposefully slurring his words, Jason got the satisfaction of watching Bruce’s eyebrows pinch together and his frown deepen. A small swell of satisfaction nestled itself next to the growing ball of comfort deep within Jason.

A squeeze to his ankle was a silent warning from Dick to play nice, and for that he leveled a glare onto his older brother.

Tim passing his tablet to Bruce was the only indication any of them got before he steamrolled into an explanation. “So, we did a couple of blood tests. Nothing worrying came up on the toxicology report, so we can rule out poison, drugs, as well as anything from Ivy. However,” the most recent ex-Robin continued to talk with an increased volume when it looked like Dick was going to interrupt Tim’s TedTalk, “another blood panel showed the reason why Jason’s loopy.” Here, the little shit let a wide grin overtake his previously neutral expression. Jason tensed up more, preparing himself for the worst. “You’re basically high on your body’s own serotonin and dopamines.”

A silence permeated the room as all occupants stared at Tim in various forms of disbelief.

“What you’re saying,” Dick hesitantly spoke up, his grip becoming just a little tighter. “Is that Jason wasn’t drugged?”

Tim huffed, putting his hands up. “I don’t believe so, no. From what the reports showed Jason just got a sudden rush of happy hormones - enough to knock anyone down. His body just suddenly decided to make up for the past couple of years.” Tim’s smirk grew when he said this, and Jason realized with the agony of a man about to face his own death that he was never going to live this down.

“F’ck,” Jason mumbled. “Wh’n will i’ wear off?”

“Probably in a couple of hours, but we need to get you prepared for a crash.”

“What do you mean?” Bruce spoke now, eyes finally leaving the tablet screen to look at the computer-genius.

Tim rolled his eyes, his smug face finally going back into the same “report mode” anyone who worked with Bruce eventually developed. “He’s basically high right now, yeah? Jason had a foreign amount of hormones rush into his system. His body is producing all of them without being used to it - meaning nutrients are being eaten up and not getting replaced fast enough. There’s like an eighty-seven percent chance Jason’s gonna drop and continue to try to sleep it off.” A small baby scowl graced Tim’s face, “It’s on the report.”

Bruce raised one of his hands and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Right, right - can you go get Alfred and ask him to bring any needed equipment up to Jason’s room?”

“Wai’-” Jason protested, trying to jerk his body up. “‘M no’ goin’ up in’a tha manor.” He snarled a bit when Dick’s hands came up to placetate him, reaching for his familiar rage only to come up empty. “Take m’ t’ my apartmen’!”

“Absolutely not.” Bruce’s voice cut through any protests Jason voiced. “We still don’t know for sure if this wasn’t an attempt to drug the Red Hood. Until we know for sure why your body decided to produce these hormones you are staying in the manor.”

“No.” The word practically dripped malice, the teasing atmosphere Dick tried to cultivate snapping like an old rope under too much tension.

“You will be staying in the manor so we can monitor your condition.” Bruce said stubbornly, moving closer to Jason. “That is an order. One that will be followed.”

“Dick c’n monitor me ‘n my apartmen’ jus’ fine.” Jason protested, working extra carefully to keep his words from slurring. The fuzzy feeling was fading, but not nearly fast enough in the man’s personal tastes. Whatever happened, though - whether he really was drugged or if this was just an unexpected hormone uptick like Tim thought - he was not staying in the Wayne Manor.

“Jason-”

Said man harshly cut off Bruce, an ugly snarl on his face. “No. I am no’ stayin’ here. E’pecially after las’ time.”

“Bruce,” Dick cut in now, “I’ll keep an eye on Jason at his place. All he’s gonna be doing is sleeping.”

Bruce let out a low rumble of frustration. “We don’t know if this was intentional, or what caused this. Jason needs to be monitored.”

“An’ he will be. Wi’h Dickface.” Jason said, angry with Bruce talking about him like he wasn’t sitting right there.

“It’ll be fine.” Dick assured, hand never leaving Jason’s ankle. “I’ll take anything he might need back with us, I’ll keep an eye on him, and we won’t have any more incidents.”

“Besides,” Tim cut in, tired of not getting to say his piece. “None of the bodycam footage showed Jason getting hit by anything. We couldn’t find any puncture wounds, and his helmet filters out anything airborne and not approved.”

“Lis’en ta your lil’ birdie.” Jason said, aiming an unsteady glare at Bruce. The fight was slowly draining out of him, warm feelings rushing in to take the place of familiar anger. Jason was tired. He just wanted to curl up on his bed in his apartment, not anywhere near the manor.

Bruce glared at each of his children, causing Jason to gear up for another argument. However, before any altercation could occur, a familiar alarm rang throughout the Batcave. The noise startled the resting bats if the beating wings and panicked calls could be attested.

In a flash, Batman was out the door of Jason’s hospital room with Red Robin on his heels. Nightwing moved to follow, before being stopped by Jason growling out a demand. “Help me ou’ ‘here, Dick.”

“What? No, you need to stay in bed-”

“Either you help me, or I do i’ on my own.” The Red Hood was already starting to manually swing his legs over the bed, desperately trying to get his world to stop spinning.

Dick made some protesting noises, rapidly looking between the still-open door and Jason. He appeared to have made up his mind when the black-haired man made a frustrated grunt akin to Bruce’s own before hurrying to Jason’s side. With practiced ease, he hefted some of Jason’s own weight as he assisted his little brother into the cave proper.

The two swiftly joined the rest of their family by the Batcomputer. Red flashing lights filled the many screens in front of them, a bright “Urgent!” symbol accompanying it, casting the various Birds and Bats in a haunting glow. Red Hood and Nightwing fell in line between Orphan and Spoiler, hovering like the rest of them as Bruce rapidly read the report being printed off. Jason managed to get a glimpse of the Justice League Dark insignia before Red Robin blocked his view, the younger working to shut off the blaring alarm.

When the annoying noise was finally quieted and the Batprinter stopped printing, Spoiler eventually broke the tense silence that filled the Batcave.

“What’s it say, Bruce?” She asked, hip cocked to the side and head tilted.

A grunt left the older man as he passed the still-warm report to the teenager. Batman turned and sat in the Batcomputer’s chair, rapidly pulling up various reports and logs, face carefully neutral.

With an annoyed grunt, Spoiler rapidly read the report before finally giving the waiting vigilantes her conclusion of the report. “Basically Justice League Dark is reporting a rapid uptick of spectral activity across. Be prepared to see ghosts, ghouls, revenants, demons - anything related to death magic.” She critically eyed the report before snapping her head up to meet Jason’s unmasked eyes.

“Wha’?” He snapped, shuffling to try to not lean as much on his smaller brother.

“Dude, what if that’s the reason you passed out?” She asked, excitedly explaining her theory. “You died, you came back and no one knows how. You call yourself a zombie - what if the death magic uptick caused you to pass out?”

Red Robin hummed, stepping closer to Spoiler in order to snatch the report out of his ex’s hand. “It’s possible, but we would need a magic user to come here and run some tests on Hood to be able to confirm. We don’t have a way to test for magic that specifically.”

Nightwing huffed, shifting his carried weight a little bit. “We can deal with all that later - I’m getting Hood back to his place so I can help him prepare for his crash later.”

Bruce’s head snapped back to glare at Dick. “No.”

“Yes.” Jason growled. “I’m leavin’. Suck i’ up, ol’ man.” He then bodily moved Dick towards the locker room, using his older brother as a human crutch. “‘M changin’ an’ I’m leavin’. An’ I’m kidnappin’ Dickface.”

By the time Jason and Dick had gotten their civilian selves into one of Bruce’s fancy cars, it seemed that their mutual guardian had given up on trying to keep Jason in the manor. The car keys and tupperware of Alfred-approved meals said man had given them on their way out of the cave said that much.

Either way, as Jason’s aching head rested against soothing glass, he let the gentle rumbling of the car and Dick’s chattering lull him into a peaceful doze - all helped by the content feeling growing in his chest at the thought of his older brother helping keep him safe.

［(－－)］zzz

Thank you so much for reading, and bit thanks to my wonderful beta Aerois! I couldn’t have done this without them!!! Chapter three will be out in a couple of weeks :)

Taglist: (If you want to be added or taken off just let me know!) @vixen-uchiha @apointlessbox @mentalcarebear @asphyxia778 @horribly-lost-and-gay @may-rbi @blacksea21090 @kyrianclawraith @fisticuffsatapplebees @stargazing-bookwyrm @ fisticuffsatapplebees

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dcxdp fic #dpxdc fic #Putting the Fun Back in Funeral #Dead on Main #the spirit of gotham is a lesbian #ao3 #pariah dark is a seahorse dad #these tags will make sense soon :)#i promise

82 notes · View notes

redrobin-detective · 4 years ago

Text

because I could not stop for death

because I could not stop for death / he kindly stopped for me / the carriage held but just ourselves / and immortality ~ Emily Dickinson

Danny Fenton was dying, properly this time.

Somehow, in the back of his head and in his worst nightmares, he knew it would end this way: bleeding on the floor of his parents’ lab where it had all began. He was so hot he felt like his skin was on fire, blood and ectoplasm were dripping all over him and his lungs and heart were working overtime to try in vain to keep him alive a moment longer. He’d imagined at the time that there would be more screaming but death, in the end, was turning out to be a quiet little affair. A lonely table set for one.

“Danny, Danny come on, you-you gotta slow down your breathing, just relax, for me, please,” Sam moaned, more than making up for his lack of noise. She was shaking and touching him all over, his chest, his face, his hair. Normally she jumped right into action but she had to know, deep down, that there was nothing she could do. All that was left was to watch her panic and cry, it wasn’t his favorite image.

“Vlad!” He heard Tucker scream cry into the phone, “please it’s Tucker, Danny’s dying I think. The Fentons had some new invention, something about his core, please we don’t know what to do!”

Ugh Vlad, he was probably going to be so happy Danny was on his way out. He wasn’t looking much forward to his last images being his archenemy gloating. Tucker hung up and reached down to grasp Danny’s hand so hard it hurt. “Don’t worry dude, Vlad’s coming. He knows so much about you half ghosts that you’ll be fixed up on no time.” Right, Danny was already dead. If calling Vlad, feeling like he did something, helped Tucker move on then he’d deal with it.

Danny tilted his head to the side where Sam’s fingernails were carding through his hair. It was getting harder to see with the blood pouring out of his eyes but he looked at her, and tried to memorize her face. He’d never been able to tell her how much he loved her, that any day spent with her was a blessing. Tucker too, his best bro and a part of his soul. His best friends in the whole wide world, through thick and thin. God, he was going to miss them.

“Glurk,” he said, trying to convey those feeling but the fluids in his mouth and airway made it impossible. “Blerh.”

“Shh shh shh,” Sam soothed, “it’s okay, don’t try to talk.”

“Daniel!” He heard Vlad’s voice shriek as he materialized in front of the portal. Sam and Tucker were violently pushed out the way. Danny wanted to be angry at his loved ones being taken away in his final moments but anger was for the living, he barely had the energy to breathe. This death was too long and too short all at once. He made eye contact with Vlad who all at once lost the frantic edge to his tone and and instead knelt on the floor. “Oh my dear boy. What did they do to you?”

“What is going on?” Sam demanded, shoving her way back in. Danny was glad, he could see again like this. “Why aren’t you doing something!”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Vlad said in a flat, monotone, he picked up one of Danny’s hands and patted it gently. “His core is dying, it’s like a ghost’s heart. It contains their very essence, it is from which everything they are comes from. If Jack and Maddie somehow disrupted it then there’s nothing anyone can do to save him.”

“But he’s human too,” Tucker defended, grabbing Danny’s other hand. His human warm skin burned but the contact felt so good, he twitched his fingers closer to his friend’s. “He-he doesn’t need a core, he’s already got a heart. So, so he doesn’t have powers, we can do normal again.”

“You-” Vlad hissed before taking a calming breath. “The accident that made Daniel like this irreparably altered him. His core was as much a part of keeping him alive as his other organs, without it, his body is shutting down.” Vlad turned down to look Danny in the eye and saw true, genuine grief in those hateful red eyes.

“I cannot imagine the agony you are going through, I’m so sorry. I’d say it will be over soon but,” a hitch that sounded almost like a sob if it was coming from anyone other than Vlad. “But you’ve hovered on the edge of death for years, son, and you’ve always been such a fighter. You have minutes at most but those minutes are an eternity when you’re suffering.”

Sam and Tucker’s sobbing blended together in the background, Vlad was saying something with a miserable, stunned expression. The swirling of the portal in the background seemed louder than anything, louder than his heart beat pounding and pounding as it ran it’s last race.

“Daniel, Danny,” he focused his eyes back on Vlad who had a stubborn, unhappy set to his brow. “Do you want me to make the pain stop? An ectoblast to your chest will end your life instantly.”

“Don’t you dare touch him,” Sam shrieked, coming back into view and looking like she was trying to fight Vlad off. “You do anything to him and I’ll kill you!” Tucker just sat and stared at him, like he too was trying memorize Danny’s face.

“It’s a mercy, Samantha or do you want his last moments on earth to be drowning on the blood in his lungs.”

“Sam, he has a point. I don’t- I don’t think we can fix this.”

“No! No we always fix things, I’ll do it myself if I have to!”

Danny’s vision was starting to go, more black than anything else. He closed his eyes and readied himself for the inevitable.

“Time Out,” Danny opened his eyes and found he was no longer in pain. He was standing up and apart from where he’d previously been lying. Sam had her hands in Vlad’s face and the older hybrid was snarling something at her. Tucker was midmotion trying to stand up, presumably to get Sam but the three of them were frozen in the moment. Danny turned and found Clockwork floating, looking very out of place in his parents lab. “Good evening, Danny.”

“You that short on cash that you work part time as a grim reaper?” Danny quipped out of habit. He looked down at his body and grimaced a bit, that wasn’t a pretty sight. No doubt traumatizing for Tucker and Sam. God how were they going to explain this to his parents? “Gonna ferry me across the River Styx? I don’t have two pennies but I think I have a bloodied $10 on me.”

“You’re core is dying and you have 17 seconds left in this world before all your organs give out and finish the process you began when you turned on your parent’s ghost portal,” Clockwork explained as he changed into child form.

“O-okay,” Danny said shakily, trying to be brave even when he was so, so scared. He was going out whether he wanted it or not but he refused to leave crying. “Nice of you to come say goodbye then but, uh but unless you have something to say then you should let me go back. No one knows better than me that you can’t outrun death. Thanks but I’m uh I’m ready.”

Clockwork stared at him for a bit, not sure how long, time was weird like this but he changed forms a few times. “You’re quite the remarkable young man, Danny Fenton.��

“Uh thanks,” Danny added, once more looking at his body which had, according to Clockwork, a 17 second expiration date. “What’s going to happen? Am I going to become a ghost? Does heaven or hell exist for someone like me?”

“I don’t get to decide what happens, I merely see options,” Clockwork stated easily, taking his time. “If you die naturally you’ll become ghost, a mere shadow of who you are now and one who would fade fairly quickly. You don’t have strong enough anger or regrets to tie you in the real world for long.” Not great but okay he supposed, hell for his friends and family though. “You could let Plasmius deliver his mercy kill, destroying what’s left of your ghost core and ensuring you do not come back.” Better, probably won’t help the Fruitloop’s instability but he can’t save everyone.

“That one comes with it’s own caveat but I’ll get to that in a moment,” Clockwork explained. “There is a third option where you get up off the floor and walk away.” Danny blinked then looked back at his body which certainly wasn’t walking anywhere but into a plush casket. Clockwork opened his hands and the Ghost King’s Crown materialized in his hands. “If you accept your claim to the King’s Cown, it will revitalize your core and your life would be saved.”

Danny blinked.

“By sealing Pariah Dark, you won by proxy and established a legitimate claim to the throne. The Zone has been without a king for millennia, most have forgotten the old rules. Those who remembered were not too keen on a half-ghost child assuming leadership and kept you in the dark. If Plasmius ends your life then your claim transfers over to him, which he is aware of. It had been his plan all along to trick you into defeating Pariah so he could steal the Crown from you at a later date, a much easier opponent.”

Danny’s mind was overloaded with information, he didn’t know what to focus on first. He stared at his 17 seconds from death face and tried to process it all. Crown? Claim? Vlad?

“Of course,” Clockwork tutted, “he didn’t plan on your dying and in such a gruesome fashion. If he kills you and takes your claim, he would spend his remaining years ruling the Ghost Zone in a just, controlled fashion for your memory. He destroys all the stable portals and keeps the ghost and human worlds separate.” Clockwork became and old man and titled his head, “it’s not a bad timeline, all things considered.”

“And if I take it?” Danny asked quietly.

“You’re compassionate, brave and motivated, you have all the makings of a revolutionary king,” Clockwork smiled. “The Zone would experience and unprecedented era of peace, there would be positive interactions between human and ghosts for the first time since life and death split into two. Your name would spoken with reverence for the rest of time.”

“But I don’t want to be king,” Danny frowned.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Clockwork stated. “Which is why I am giving you the choice. If you pass peacefully there will be no one to claim the Crown and life will continue on, ghost attacks and all. If Plasmius kills you, he becomes an effective but unmemorable king. If you take the Crown, you can get the chance to tell Sam and Tucker how much you love them.”

Danny rubbed at his face, he didn’t want to die but he’d be sealing away his entire future with a move like this. He didn’t even know if the Crown would let him go with death, maybe he’d die and be stuck as the Ghost King until his core finally gave out lord in who knows how long. Eternity was an awful long time to carry such a responsibility. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, too afraid of the answer.

“Is there ever a timeline I became an astronaut?” He asked instead. Clockwork hummed, seemingly unsurprised by Danny’s non-sequitur.

“Yes, in one of the few universes where you never walked into the portal. You never go into space what with human politics putting a halt on the programs but you work for NASA. You leave Amity Park at 17 and don’t come back save for your parents’ dual funeral.” He paused and Danny felt read down to his very bones, “from the moment you became half ghost you were always heading for this moment. The circumstances varied but it always came down to you and the Crown. Time is straining to continue, to see how this drama plays out. Will you accept it and all the joy and grief that comes with it?”

Danny looked over at Vlad, still mid-sneer but there was a scared desperation in his face. He and Vlad sniped at each other all the time but Danny didn’t really hate him and he didn’t think Vlad did either. Leaving him alone, plus making him be king was a heavy burden to put on his enemy.

Sam and Tuck probably wouldn’t recover from this, he’d put them through so much already but he just knew that they’d never be the same. Could he do that to them? Take the easy way out and leave them to suffer? Mom and Dad didn’t deserve to come home to a dead son, the truth would come out and they’d never forgive themselves. Jazz certainly wouldn’t, she was 2 states over at University but he could already hear her angry, grief-stricken screams.

Death, death was quiet. It was quiet and merciful and sad, but it was also easy. And Danny Fenton had never once taken the easy route. He reached out and took and the crown before shakily placing it on his head. He gasped, throwing his head back as his core swelled, taking up residence once more right next to his heart. Clockwork smiled, looking like the cat who ate the canary.

“The Crown of Fire, pardon me the Crown changes with each core, the Crown of Ice is now yours as is the Zone. Your reign begins now but so too does the rest of your life. People are waiting for you. Time in.” Danny slammed back into awareness on the floor of his parents’ lab, the floor he’d almost died on twice.

He sat up as cold radiated off his body, causing frost to crawl down his arms and along the floor. Sam, Tucker and Vlad, who’d been frozen up until now, jumped back to life. There was a new, familiar weight on his head that he didn’t dare acknowledge.

He squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent goodbye to a quiet, normal life. It wouldn’t be all bad, he could be happy like this but the Crown still felt like a iron manacle around his neck. But he got used to the ghost powers, he could get used to this too. Maybe one day he won’t look at the stars and say ‘what if?’

“Danny!” Sam shouted, throwing herself into his arms soon followed by Tucker. Their warm weight, their relieved sobs, their shaky breaths in his air, now this was something worth living for. He squeezed them tightly.

“But how dude, you were at death’s door!” Tucker asked, still not letting go.

“You accepted the Crown,” Vlad said evenly, “I wasn’t aware you even knew about your claim. Who told you?”

“You don’t know everything, Vlad,” Danny sighed, sitting himself upright. Ugh his shirt was covered in blood and ectoplasm. He needed to trash these clothes before his parents freaked. And find a way to hide the floating ice crown on his head.

“Even an old man can be surprised every now and again,” Vlad said wearily. He stood up to his full height before startling Danny by dipping down to one knee. “Then allow me to be the first to welcome my new king and wish him well.”

“I thought you wanted this,” Danny questioned.

“I do, I did,” Vlad said, unusually off balance. “To be quite honest, I’m not sure how to feel about it but, right now, I’m just immeasurably happy you’re alive, little badger. Now I best be off, enjoy your kingdom, my liege, I’ll be sure to come bother you some time soon.” Vlad disappeared in a swirl of pink leaving just him, Sam and Tucker still clinging to him.

Danny may have a kingdom, a job he didn’t want and his whole life decided in a spur of the moment choice, but he also had something very important. He squeezed his friends tightly.

“I love you guys, thank you for being my friends even though I have the worst ideas for activities. Dying? On a Sunday night? How lame is that?” Sam laughed, a bit hysterical but it was real and it made Danny feel weightless.

“Don’t do that again, buddy,” Tucker breathed into his shoulder. “So you gonna explain what just happened and why you’re apparently the Ghost King or something?”

“Yeah, yeah I will but let’s get changed first. Mom and Dad will be home soon and I think I’m going to need to have a conversation with them about my new job.”

#danny phantom #i was watching forever phantom and said 'i should kill danny' and then i fucking didn't #im obsessed with ghost king danny as end game #Im not sure this is the route I would want to go but I want him to end up woth tje crown #its bitter sweet bc its a *lifelong (possibly afterlife) commitment that he didnt get a choice in #he will be happy and he will be a good king but it wasnt his choice and he'll always regret it a little #i love clockwork but he's a bit shady and will always work in favor of the timeline #anyway happy fucking sunday bitches #have some homemade angst #also i typed this directly in tumblr and almost hit the power screen on my computer instead of backspace #god was trying to stop me from publishing but i overcame #Only did one quick edit Im too tired to care anymore #lmk if you want it on ao3

595 notes · View notes

five-rivers · 4 years ago

Text

Pennywort and Swallowtails

For @phantomphangphucker :)

Prompt: Flynn, due to being Phantom’s aka the Ghost King’s family and part of the Zone’s society, receives a Prince title and is now getting crowned.

Flynn couldn’t put his finger on exactly why, but the Ghost Zone seemed different lately. There was something in the atmosphere, almost. It felt… lighter, maybe?

He didn’t like it.

After all these years in the Ghost Zone, he’d come to regard any change from the norm with suspicion. The tendency had saved his life multiple times. Usually, such changes were caused by a nearby and powerful ghost. Or, on rare and terrifying occasions, a not so nearby and obscenely powerful ghost.

For example, that Pariah Dark guy he’d heard about from some of the ghosts he traded with. Flynn sure was glad someone else had taken care of him. Not that Flynn was much good in a fight against any ghost more powerful than that annoying one in overalls that showed up whenever Flynn so much as thought of making anything even vaguely box-shaped.

Which wasn’t that often. Flynn had never really nailed the whole carpentry thing. Ha. He’d never been super great at the whole square thing either. Because he wasn’t one. Skipped school and everything. The whole high school experience. Ha.

Sometimes he really cracked himself up, but only in the most depressing of ways.

He sighed, heavily. Maybe he should think about spending more time in his hideaway cave, under his cottage (aka his shack, it was a shack, who was he kidding). Stock up on supplies. Get ready to weather a storm. Literal or metaphorical.

But hiding out in the cave was so boring. There wasn’t anything to do down there. Except try to design better grass shoes and to patch his increasingly ragged clothing with limited amounts of thread. He preferred being outside greatly. Even if it was just on his little floating island, messing around in his little garden, growing potatoes and blood blossoms, digging for those crystals ghosts seemed to fear and desire in equal measure.

Flynn was peripherally aware that he was supplying the ghosts he traded with the equivalent of ghost uranium (one of the few human-world things he’d picked up was a middle school science textbook), but…

Yeah. Guy had to eat, and the Ghost Zone didn’t exactly have cops running all over the place, or the United Nations, or… yeah. Honestly, the Ghost Zone didn’t have much of anything, at least not in these parts. It was pretty empty around here.

Just like Flynn’s heart.

Ha.

Yeah. That was a good one.

Eh. Life wasn’t so bad. He was sort-of-kind-of friends with half a dozen undead monsters of questionable morality, had his own house, most of his teeth, and copious free time. Plus, it had been a while since the ‘rocks from nowhere’ decided to trash his roof. Which was bad for the sport he had invented (Chucking Rocks into the Misty Void), but good for roof integrity. And not having a concussion. Or losing any more teeth.

But, back to his original topic.

Flynn glared absently at the Zone at large. Okay, yeah, something was going on. Was it Flynn’s problem? Maybe. Was it directly Flynn’s problem? No. The day was otherwise clear and ‘normal’ (the term being used loosely in the Ghost Zone), so he might as well go about his day—

The sky tore open in front of him.

Flynn recognized that. Before he knew what he was doing, he threw himself away from the portal. The last time he’d stepped through one of those—

The thought crossed his mind that this portal might lead back to Earth, back home, back to Mom. But he knew from his ghostly friends how unlikely it was that the portal would put him anywhere near his home physically, not to mention temporally. It might not even lead back to Earth for that matter.

He took cover behind a boulder, cursing his blasé dismissal of potential danger. Who knew what could come out of a portal? At least according to the ghosts he talked to. Hopefully, nothing came out that he couldn’t beat into submission with his ectoranium staff.

This was going to suck so much.

The portal disgorged three floating eyeball ghosts in voluminous robes.

(One of the other books Flynn had gotten his hands on was a dictionary. Which he had read. Twice. Living on a tiny floating island was boring when it wasn’t terrifying.)

Ah, heck. He could take one ghost. Three? Yeah. Not a chance.

Maybe they’d leave? They couldn’t know for sure he was here. With how unpredictable portals were, and all.

“Flynn Walker,” intoned the central eyeball ghost with a great deal of gravitas.

Flynn’s body did something between a cringe and a blanch.

He was never trusting Globithar the Lapidarist’s tall tales ever again. He wasn’t going to give him any more discounts for them, either. No way to control a portal his scarred left butt cheek.

“Flynn Walker,” repeated the eyeball ghost, now with a touch of annoyance.

“In accordance with the laws of the Infinite Realms,” said the leftmost ghost, in a higher-pitched voice, “we call you to take up your position in the Court of the King of All Ghosts as a member of his family.”

Ah, that ectocontamination Aunt Maddie had sometimes talked about had finally caught up with him, and he was hallucinating something fierce. Either that, or these ghosts thought unbelievable jokes were good bait. They weren’t. Flynn would know. He’d made many unbelievable jokes. They’d never attracted anything but groans.

Ha.

“This is ridiculous,” hissed the third ghost. “He isn’t even a real ghost.”

“He’s more ghostly than Phantom’s sister,” said the second.

“We don’t have any choice about her, though. Can’t we simply… not tell Phantom about this Flynn? Especially if this cousin of his is so craven as to hide at a moment like this.”

Rude, but accurate.

“He’ll find out,” said the first eyeball, tiredly. “He always finds out. Damn Clockwork.”

This was officially too weird for Flynn. Why were they cursing out clocks?

“Because they’re petty and don’t have anything better to do.”

Flynn may or may not have shrieked like a little girl at the voice behind him. The uncertainty was mostly because Flynn hadn’t seen or heard a little girl since he was in the vicinity of his cousin, Jazz, which was years ago. At least a decade.

But he did scream. Loudly. Which he really should know better than to do, living in the Ghost Zone and all. He brought his staff up defensively, too, though, so his self-preservation skills hadn’t completely shorted out.

“Clockwork!” chorused the eyeball ghosts.

“Yes, yes,” said the ghost who’d snuck up on Flynn, flicking imaginary dust off his robe as he smoothly, and dizzyingly, shifted between ages. “I’m sure you’re all very shocked that I’m here, after you just finished complaining about how much I know.” He examined his fingernails. “Now, Mr. Walker—”

“Walker?” shrieked one of the eyeballs.

“Yes, he is related to our illustrious sheriff. As I was saying, I am here to bring you to your cousins, who have risen quite a bit in this world.”

“What.”

“It is, indeed, rather surprising,” said Clockwork. “To those who cannot see the twists and turns of fate. Or those who are willfully blind to those twists and turns.” He eyed the eyeballs.

“What,” repeated Flynn, more forcefully.

“Clockwork,” growled the lead eyeball.

“Allow me to explain,” said Clockwork. “Do you recall your youngest cousin, Daniel?”

“Uh,” said Flynn. He adjusted his grip on his staff. “Vaguely?”

“He was crowned King of All Ghosts a few weeks ago. As a member of his family and an active participant in ghost society, you are automatically a member of the court. Assuming you wish to be, of course.”

“You- You’re saying I have family here.”

“Indeed.”

“Like, Aunt Maddie?”

Something odd passed over Clockwork’s face. “No. Your cousins. Daniel, specifically.”

“Wait, wait, he was a baby. Wouldn’t he only be, like, ten or something?”

“Fifteen,” corrected Clockwork.

“How did he die?”

“You will have to ask him that,” said Clockwork. He raised an eyebrow. “If you would like, you can sleep on this and I will return tomorrow.”

Flynn bit his lip. Hard. Okay. He wasn’t dreaming. And- And this ghost didn’t seem to be lying. What would the point of that even be, anyway? Flynn was nothing. He didn’t have anything they could possibly gain by lying like this.

“I’ll go with you,” said Flynn.

“Excellent,” said Clockwork, clapping his hands. “Then let us away to the castle.”

Well. That was certainly a castle. Or a palace? Flynn wasn’t sure of the difference. The ghosts hadn’t lied about that, at least.

It was a big step up from Flynn’s house. Which, honestly, more deserved the title of hovel. Or perhaps shack.

Or even hole, when compared to all this. Dear god, this place was fancy.

Flynn hunched his shoulders, feeling out of place even as Clockwork led him deeper into the massive edifice.

Come on, Flynn, he thought furiously at himself. Some of these people aren’t even wearing skin. You are not underdressed.

Clockwork brought him to a normally sized (which was, incidentally, not a given in this place, which contained both huge and tiny doors) door with understated but elegant carvings. “Here are your rooms,” said the ghost. “You will find a selection of clothing in your size in the wardrobe, and the bathroom is fully stocked and human safe.”

“Human safe?”

“Human safe.”

That was ominous.

“There is a bell in the room that will summon a servant should you need one. I will collect you for dinner in three hours. Long enough for you to relax, I should hope.”

Or long enough for him to worry himself into pieces and chew on their curtains.

… There would be curtains, right? This place had to be fancy enough to rate curtains.

He opened the door.

Lots of curtains. Lovely.

No, really. It had been so, so long since he’d seen curtains. He might be crying.

Oh, gosh, that bed looked so nice and soft. He wanted to—

Wait, no, he was filthy. Filthy. Covered in years’ worth of grime. He hadn’t had a proper bath since he’d still been living with his mom.

Pathetic, right?

There was a human-safe bathroom in here somewhere. Beyond the snark, he was looking forward to having a human-safe bath. He was craving a human-safe bath. With clean water and soap.

Could the bathroom also have toothbrushes? Toothpaste? Unrestrained luxury.

The bathroom door was in the same style as the outer door, but the handle was different, lighter. The inside was tiled and surprisingly modern.

There was a sink.

He played with the sink faucet for several long minutes before remembering that he’d come in to take a bath.

He spent several minutes playing with the bathtub faucet.

Then he got into the bathtub and experienced a half hour of combined panic (he didn’t really know how baths worked anymore, and the sensations were weird) and nirvana (the sensations were also good).

He had to keep cycling the water. Because he made it so, so dirty. He sank into the water, up to his chin.

When he got out of the water, he decided his hair was a lost cause. Because it was always a lost cause. Only, it was even more of a lost cause now, because it was also wet and had been stripped of its usual protective layer of oils.

There was a variety of toothbrushes and toothpastes available. He tested them out and discovered that he would probably need the services of a dentist. A good one. Were there ghost dentists? There had to be ghost dentists. They had a lot of teeth. A lot of teeth. Sharp, scary, teeth.

Ugh. His baby cousin was a ghost. He’d probably have teeth like a shark. When he’d last seen him, he’d hardly even had any teeth at all. Because. Baby. Little, tiny, baby.

Who Flynn barely knew.

Why did he even want Flynn? Or was it just some weird ghost tradition thing?

Ghosts were weird. Anything could be possible.

He flopped face-first onto the bed. His bed? His temporary and maybe permanent bed. If he was allowed to stay here.

Oh, gosh. Clockwork and the eyeballs seemed to know how to make portals. Could they make a portal back to the human world? To Earth?

To Flynn’s proper time?

To Mom?

He missed Mom so much, even after all this time.

(Dad? Not so much. He hardly remembered the man.)

He wouldn’t know until he asked, he supposed. But asking maybe-royalty would be scary. Talking to all these powerful ghosts was scary enough by itself.

Ehhhh, he thought he’d gotten rid of his more cowardly side by now. He was living in the scariest place out of the world.

Ha.

Yeah.

He crawled out of the bed, dragging his nice, clean self to the wardrobe. Oh, boy. Many clothes. He hadn’t even seen so many clothes since the last time he’d been in department store. Incredible.

They were so fancy, too. He didn’t know how to choose.

He didn’t even know how to wear half of these things. At least half of them.

He began to tease lengths of fabric from the wardrobe and lay them on his bed. Some of them looked cool. And also the kind of thing that he’d destroy just by touching it.

Except he had already touched them, and they hadn’t been destroyed yet. Yet.

Oh, cool, there was underwear. Wow. It had been a while.

Okay. The bed was incredibly nice, but somehow too nice. Like, no nap nice.

He wanted to take a nap.

But no nap was occurring.

The bed was too soft. Ugh. This was like the thing in that one war novel he’d read when he was probably way too young to read it.

He groaned. He hadn’t thought that was real. He’d thought it was an exaggeration, or just drama. Or something.

He crawled off onto the floor and the wonderfully plush carpet.

Maybe he could sleep here.

He woke up to a faint knocking sound and rolled sideways under cover. What cover? Oh. Bed. That was the bed. He was in the room. In the castle. The ghost king’s castle.

His baby cousin’s castle.

He was going to cry. This was so weird.

Embarrassed, he rolled back out from under the bed and threw on the first clothes that came to hand. Which. Might not have been the best of ideas. But, hey, he was dressed now.

He stumbled over to the door and spent several long, embarrassing seconds sleepily remembering how to open doors with this type of handle. Eventually, though, he managed it.

Clockwork was standing there. One of his eyebrows went up. “Interesting choice.”

Flynn looked down. Orange and green went fine together. What was he talking about?

Forget it, he wasn’t about to develop a sense of social shame after living in a hut for a decade or so.

“Come, now. Your cousins are expecting you.”

Flynn briefly considered ducking out, phasing through the floor and out of the castle using a tangibility trick he’d picked up a couple of years back. At least, that would spare him from this ‘diner’ he was rapidly approaching.

He decided not to do that. Running away wasn’t his style.

(Who was he kidding? That was definitely his style. He would have run away so, so much if he had anywhere to run to.)

(It wasn’t like he could exactly fight ghosts on even footing. Each and every one of them had Martian Manhunter’s powerset.)

“Don’t be afraid, Flynn,” said Clockwork, looking back over his shoulder.

“Do you, like, read minds?”

Clockwork chuckled. “Only the future.” He swung the large, gilded door open.

Inside, there was a long table, set with silvery plates. There were a small group of children beyond it. One of them waved at him. Was that Danny?

Flynn took a deep breath and walked forward, back to his family.

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2021 #flynn walker #clockwork

215 notes · View notes

bubblegumbeech · 4 years ago

Text

King on High and How to Fall

Phic Phight Prompt fill for @heroine0ftime

As a ghost gets more powerful, so does the strength of their obsession.

“You’re making a mistake Pariah,” Clockwork warned once they were alone.

The two of them often retired together to the chamber at the top of the far tower, away from the main estate of the keep. It was more comfortable, personal. And it allowed them to talk candidly away from the eyes and ears of those who would judge their propriety otherwise. And those who need not know more than they were told.

Pariah rolled his eyes, “as you have told me countless times, every time we start a new conquest.”

Then, he caught Clockwork gently by his elbows, stopping him before he could storm further into the room. Clockwork deflated at the touch, it was a comfort and often helped ground him in the reality of the present, kept him there instead of floating away into the future, into what could have been and what yet might be.

He looked up to catch his king’s eyes, as tall and imposing as he was, Clockwork did not feel frightened of his king when his gaze fell upon him, not the way that he would have before, when Pariah’s cunning and dedication were enough alone to have the whole of the realms fearful. Now, it was a gaze darkened with emotion and lost just enough to irrationality that Clockwork could see what had never existed before.

Threads, rivers, paths in every direction that led to Pariah’s End, and even more so that led to his failure. It was disheartening for Clockwork to see one as mighty as Pariah, fall in so many ways, in so many futures. There were still more, of course, where Pariah succeeded. Where he would unite the entirety of the realms underneath his rule and instill order upon that which was made from chaos, order but never peace, not anymore. Those futures had vanished when he accepted the ring.

Before, Pariah had been terrifying in a way few could understand or even articulate. If you found yourself in his sights, either in his way or or as something he desired, there would be no escape. He sought completion by his very core, and was caught duty bound by rites, failure had never been so much as an acquaintance in Pariah’s life. And it was a stranger still, one he would soon meet if Clockwork could not dissuade him from this path.

Knuckles brushed gently against Clockwork's cheek, dragging him back to the present, to Pariah’s arms and warmth of his keep. Pariah was smiling again, likely amused at having caught Clockwork distracted. The affection in his eyes was too much, more than it had ever been before, and Clockwork knew, in the same way he knew the futures and the past and every branching path that could connect them, that it was only as real as the powers bestowed by his ring and crown.

Clockwork caught his hand, “Pariah, please. You don’t need the power, use the strengths you have now if you must-”

“I must,” Pariah interrupted, dropping his hand and releasing Clockwork from his hold, “you know I must. It was a task entrusted to me.”

His obsession would not let him walk away, there was no stopping now in the middle of a task unfinished. It was not something he could do, it went against the fibers of his own creation and his reason to be. Clockwork knew this. It was why he was here, trying to twist the path and change the course, rather than asking him to stop completely.

There was little hope, all of the futures that had once been bright and shining were now faded into shadow, twisting further and further away from his grasp. Much like Pariah himself.

“Reject the ring, it seeks to change you. To mold you into a tool for others,” he implored. He could not make it a demand, Pariah’s power was far too much to challenge casually and especially not in his own lair. This was but a last desperate attempt at appeal. Pariah shook his head.

He had known Pariah wouldn’t listen. He wasn’t hearing the words Clockwork said, he was listening only to the pieces he could digest, what he could easily accept into his own plans and move forward with. It was frustrating, and almost uncharacteristic of him. The crown was already corrupting him and Clockwork wondered if Pariah could still see him at all, or if he was simply another part of the king’s conquest.

“You are one to talk, a tool for others,” Pariah spoke softly, his voice accusing. Did he know? Was it possible? “I’ve seen how you bend your back and twist your powers to the wills of the observants. They are lesser, incompetent. They seek to use you just as much as they may seek to use me.”

Clockwork scowled, “so you trust what they give you? You speak ill of them, your voice practically drips in malice whenever you so much speak the name of their order, but their gifts are beyond your scrutiny?” He did not mention his own reasons, it was not something Pariah needed to know. It was something that would only further hasten his fall should he hear of it and Clockwork was barely holding the future together as it was.

Pariah frowned and reached again for Clockwork’s face, but he floated away, out of the King’s reach. Pariah stepped closer still, “I know what power they hold and their reasons for gifting them. I don’t care to fall for their schemes.”

“That’s your pride speaking Pariah,” Clockwork scoffed. He was powerful, so powerful, why did he think he needed more than what he had? Did he not realize what made him so feared was not the power behind his strikes, but the cold certainty of his success? Was that not why he had been chosen?

Why he was King?

“I know you don’t agree, that you would rather the Infinite Realms fall entirely back into Chaos as they were at your creation. Is that desire enough you must fight with me over every extension of my rule, every conquest? You know I will not stop, so you seek delay?” Pariah said, his voice quiet.

Pariah’s emotions were always deceptive, the softer he spoke, the more strongly he felt. And he was angry now, frustrated with Clockwork just as Clockwork was with him. There was little they could do when their obsessions clashed like this. Often, it was Clockwork who had to bend, to try and find a way around, a string to follow into a brighter future despite the decisions made here and now.

Clockwork bit his lip, holding back words he knew better than to say, “I seek a future where you stay, where you do not fade and are not Ended. That is what I seek in the futures spread before me, you are the one cutting strings until there are fewer and fewer options left.”

He grabbed Pariah’s hand, pulling it to the ticking clock of his chest and holding it there, desperate for him to feel Clockwork’s truth, his certainty, “you will fall along this path Pariah.”

There was a moment where neither did anything, the two of them soaking in the presence of the other, before Pariah smiled softly and pulled Clockwork fully into his arms. He was warm, the fire of his core blazing and passionate and Clockwork allowed himself the comfort, allowed himself to relax into his King’s arms while he still could.

“How can I fall,” Pariah said softly into Clockwork’s ear, “when I have you?”

A shiver passed through Clockwork and he pulled Pariah even closer, tucking his face into the larger ghost’s shoulder and trying not to let it show, not to let anything give him away. It was too much, it hurt. His core was pulling in two different directions and there was nothing he could do but hold tight until he was forced to let go.

And he would be.

It was only a matter of time.

Eventually, Clockwork pulled away. Pariah seemed unwilling to let him go, but made no move to stop him. “Go Pariah, create your kingdom… I will be here, as always. Waiting for you.”

“Bitterly, I imagine,” Pariah said with humor. Then he delicately brushed a strand of Clockwork's hair from his face where it had fallen from his braid and moved his hand under Clockwork’s chin, lifting it so that they were forced to meet eyes.

When he leaned in for the kiss, it was gentle, and Clockwork savored it as much as he could. Unlike Pariah, he knew it would be the last time they shared something nearly so sweet, it would have to be. The futures as they stretched before him now would not allow for another. Not if Pariah was so determined to continue along this path and Clockwork could do nothing to stop him.

Pariah pulled away and Clockwork couldn’t stop himself from reaching up and cupping his hand against a bearded cheek. Pariah’s own hand moved to join it, trapping it there as he leaned into whatever comfort Pariah took from such a small gesture. He’d always been so physical, perhaps it was in part because of his obsession, perhaps it was simply something uniquely Pariah. Either way, it ached to take advantage, and Clockwork had to pull away before he lost all of the resolve he’d built and failed his own obsession entirely.

Once, Clockwork had wondered for a fleeting moment, what might happen should he fade. Would time cease with him, or would another spirit take his place, watching over the streams of endless possibility? If so, would they see it as Clockwork did? Would they have found another way? One that Clockwork himself was blinded to?

Did it matter?

“I will see you upon my return,” Pariah said as he walked away, towards the door that led down through the tower and eventually away from the keep entirely. He was leaving and Clockwork had not been able to stop him, nothing could stop him. That at least, was consistent.

Clockwork swallowed a lump in his throat, careful to keep his voice steady and low, “It shall be a success my King, you will return in glory as always.”

He watched as Pariah nodded, accepting the future Clockwork had seen, and left. Clockwork stayed for a moment longer, took the time to wait for Pariah to leave his keep entirely and start his newest campaign, that of the Far Frozen. He waited until the ambient ectoplasm of the room cooled- no longer as intimately warmed by Pariah’s core, and then he waited a bit longer to steel his nerves.

Using his staff, he carved a portal into the fabric of the realms, twisting and pinching time around it and appearing in his own lair. The clock tower’s echoed around him in a cold comfort, lonely compared to the feeling of standing inside of Pariah’s keep, but a comfort nonetheless as he waited for the portal to close behind him before calling out.

“He has left on his conquest, he does not suspect anything.”

Seemingly from nowhere, six other ghosts appeared, each wearing a heavy cloak of their own and shadowing their faces, each as ancient and timeless as Clockwork himself, each born of chaos as he was, and each seeking chaos once more.

“Then it is time.”

“You betrayed me,” Pariah growled, pulling Clockwork close in a mockery of the affection they had shared upon his departure. It should have been impossible, Pariah should not have been able to discover their plans, the secrets Clockwork had tried so hard to keep from him. And yet somehow he had appeared, wreathed in flame and fury and had cornered Clockwork in the tower, had grabbed him before he could stop time and make his escape.

Clockwork struggled against it, but Pariah’s grip, as always, was that of steel. Pariah pressed him forcefully into the wall so that every carved stone dug into Clockwork’s back, and Pariah’s arms were a cage around him with no escape. Danger blazed behind his eyes.

Swallowing his fear, Clockwork sought for what he could say, what futures there were that he might use to protect himself from the King’s anger. But Pariah shook him forcefully, breaking any possible concentration and pressed a warm hand against the pulse of Clockwork’s core. He stilled, much like an animal caught by the neck, and his struggle ceased.

There was no possibility, Clockwork knew rationally, of Pariah Ending him. There was no future he had seen where such actions could ever come to pass. But it was an instinctual fear that held him frozen now, and one Pariah knew to use to his own advantage. He leaned in close, his voice practically a whisper.

“Do not speak,” he said, and Clockwork obeyed. Doing otherwise would only worsen whatever punishment Pariah saw fit to bestow. And there was no hope now, that Clockwork could escape before he did so.

The hand on his chest moved slowly upwards, and rested instead at the join of his neck and shoulder. It traced, deceptively soft, over where a human’s arteries would be, etching out a path up until fingers curled underneath his chin and a thumb caressed the delicate skin under his left eye, “if I take your eye, will it keep your gaze from turning to another?”

Don’t speak, Clockwork reminded himself. He bit back a retort about choice and how sight in itself was less than necessary if Clockwork truly wanted to be with another. Neither did he ask for it to be spared, Pariah wouldn’t listen and Clockwork was unwilling to break his own pride in order to stoke the King’s ego.

Unfortunately, Pariah knew him well and likely followed the direction of his thoughts since his grip tightened in reprimand, “If I took your sight would you still see your precious futures, or would you be struggling, blind like the rest of us to the possibilities laid before you? Would you be stuck in the present, here with me, reliant and dependent and unable to leave my side?”

It was a threat. And unfortunately for Clockwork, it was one Pariah had every intention to make good on if he didn’t do something, say something, to dissuade him. To change the course they were on now. So Clockwork lifted his own hand, catching Pariah’s where it laid upon his cheek, and smiled-showing his fangs, “Do you fear my gaze Pariah?”

The fury caught like a flame, Pariah's emotions stronger and less in his control the more power he siphoned from his Kingly adornments. It burned around them. Pariah ripped his hand away, using the sharp of his claw to dig into the flesh and Clockwork froze time before he could be caught fully again. It was difficult, keeping hold in the lair of another powerful ghost, but it was a familiar lair and he held it still.

His eye stung, the cut was deep and he would likely be unable to see through it until it healed, if it ever healed fully. There was so much power and intention behind Pariah’s attack, it would be a wonder if it did not scar, a sharp, twisted reminder of what must be done, and what Clockwork himself must sacrifice. He grimaced and wiped some of the ectoplasm away as it dripped easily down the side of his face and puddled unattractively upon the stone floor beneath him.

Pariah had not explained his anger, and Clockwork took his chance to comb through recent pasts, untangling them as much as he could to read where he and the other Ancients might have been discovered, or if it had been some other perceived betrayal that had moved his King to such fury. Yet somehow, when he looked, there was nothing but twisted knots and empty shadows where answers should have been.

Were the observants making their move so soon? Clockwork knew they sought the subjugation of the realms in the name of balance and order, it had been why a king was selected in the first place, as a mimicry of mortal governments and society. Did they foresee Pariah’s fall and work now to avoid it, to keep a tyrant on the throne so that they may avoid once more dirtying their own hands?

But then why give him the ring? The crown? Was it truly as Pariah had said, an attempt to increase his power and hasten his conquest? Were they so foolish to think that would ever be allowed by those that came before, or did they like Icarus seek to fly higher than what was afforded them?

There were far too many questions and Clockwork had never been a mind reader- that had always been closer to Nocturn’s particular taste, and even he could not reach into the minds of those that watched as protected as they were with their charms and spells and numbers. Clockwork shook his head, banishing his visions and focusing instead on the present reality.

It didn’t matter anymore, he needed to flee. He was compromised and the King’s regard was no longer the protection it once might have been.

He tried to pull away, but Pariah’s hold on his right arm did not break and Clockwork, in his surprise, released his grip on time for just a moment. It was a moment long enough though. And Pariah once more pulled him fully into his grasp, the entirety of his lair shook around them in his anger.

“Did you just try to escape?” he asked, and Clockwork couldn’t answer. Could barely think, caught as he was in the blazing heat of Pariah’s emotions.

Pariah held him still and moved a hand to grip at the back of Clockwork’s neck to shake him, “did you think I would let you leave .”

Clockwork grimaced, “I had hoped not to give you much choice.”

“Are you truly that scared to lose your precious sight?” Pariah asked, his voice calculating.

There was nothing he could do, Pariah’s hold was unyielding and every future he could see, as twisted and unique as they were, led down the same path with the same conclusions. The only hope he had was to appeal to Pariah’s obsession, and avoid the cold certainty of his logic.

“Would you take from me the only thing that makes me useful to your cause?” he said carefully. It was a gamble of tone and intention to see how Pariah would react, if it might move even incrementally into Clockwork’s favor.

Heat pulsed around them once more as Pariah's emotions escaped him in waves and drenched the ambient ectoplasm, almost drowning Clockwork himself in their intensity. “What use is a seer I cannot trust?” he growled, the question stung at Clockwork’s core despite its accuracy. “Why should I not simply bind you here to this chamber and keep you beholden to me? Make it so that you cannot twist the universe to your whims and flee so easily from my grasp?”

“You would hunt me down if I fled,” Clockwork said with certainty. There were no futures where Clockwork escaped Pariah by running away.

Pariah hummed in agreement, then he used his thumb to wipe away some of the ectoplasm still bleeding from Clockwork's wound. It was a delicate threat, as far as threats go and Clockwork almost leaned into the touch. Pariah purred at his act of submission and the anger slowly started to leach from the air around them, morphing and twisting into something else, something complicated and confusing and no less volatile, “perhaps I should bind your tongue instead then.”

“You can try.”

Clockwork awoke slowly, Pariah’s arms caged around him. He should have known that escape would not be easy, and that Pariah would be unwilling to let him leave. The mark Pariah had carved into the side of his face still stung and Clockwork poked at it gently, feeling the give of the skin to see how far along his healing was. He could, theoretically, speed up time and have it heal faster, but it would be the same either way to Clockwork, and he didn't feel the need to bother.

It was frustrating to be caught so soon. But it was not beyond their plans. And though the path he had chosen was narrow, it had a light at the end, brighter than any of the lit paths that had once stretched so plentifully before him. There was hope, and possibilities for the future.

Pariah would no longer be King and the realms would heal.

They just needed time.

He looked over at the sleeping king- his grip lax in his sleep, and bared his fangs. Well, no one said Time wasn’t petty. And Pariah didn’t need his eye any more than Clockwork did.

“I miss trusting you.”

Clockwork inclined his head, hiding a smirk as Pariah walked into the tower chamber he had sealed Clockwork in. It was certainly nicer than the chains he had threatened, but it was still a cage and Clockwork itched at the restraints. His core was near numb in its constant ache as he was kept from manipulating and keeping the timestreams. He could not know how stable they fared without him, could only hope that the limited power he had now would be enough. The fact that he could not see their collapse was the only thing keeping him sane, “you can always decide to start trusting me again.”

Pariah scoffed, “you’ve tricked me once and now think me a fool?”

He didn’t, but he would not admit that to Pariah. He had ego enough as it stood and there were few things Clockwork could do to stave off boredom these days, messing with Pariah was one of few things that brought him joy.

Pariah wore an eyepatch now, the mess Clockwork had made of his eye covered and hidden away. Just as well, he did not think he could hold back his smirk if it were on full display.

“I see only one future now,” he said, changing the topic.

There was a rustle of fabric and Clockwork turned to see Pariah shed his cape and make himself comfortable; as if he were coming home to a lover and not to a traitor caught and imprisoned in a tower. It irked Clockwork, that Pariah seemed determined to deny him the status of an enemy, and instead treated him as if he merely strayed temporarily from his true course. To him this was all an inconvenience, a small blight where Clockwork had wandered away from where he truly belonged, by Pariah’s side, and Pariah sought to correct him.

“So you’ve told me,” Pariah answered easily, kicking off his boots and sitting at the edge of the bed, “But I can hardly trust that. It seems convenient for you, that the only future left is one where I fall and the Realms fall with me. It sounds quite a bit more like a future you’ve designed to try and convince me to cease my conquest, rather than an accurate and likely reality.”

That would be because it was.

As it stood, the majority of the futures he saw had Pariah either succeed or fail, and rarely did they showcase the Realms themselves falling into turmoil or instability. What they showed instead, should Pariah succeed, was much worse. Order, control, restrictions placed upon that which was infinite and could not be contained and the eventual rise of the Observants as they do more than their name implied. Should Pariah fall, the realms would be fine.

It was only Clockwork that wished for some other way.

“Your obsession has taken control of you.”

“My obsession is what I am, it is the reason for my existence. Even you would not be so callous as to deny a ghost his existence,” Pariah countered. He had grabbed a book and was reading it, stretched out and comfortable on the bed while Clockwork watched from the window.

He had taken away any other furniture from the room, if Clockwork grew tired and wished to rest it would have to be in the bed where he had carved out Pariah’s eye. It was a subtle type of cruelty, but it taught its lesson as Pariah relaxed and Clockwork kept his distance.

“You were lost the moment you took up this task,” Clockwork mourned, “you should have rejected it like every other who was asked before you.”

Pariah closed his book, “it was my duty-”

“You had no obligation to them !” Clockwork yelled, losing his temper in his grief.

“I could not ignore it. Something needed to be done, and there was something I could do. Would you doom those beneath you to chaos and ruin?” Pariah snapped back and Clockwork flinched.

It was true, that the anarchy of the realms had been dangerous for those that were newly formed and those that were naturally weaker. But they had discovered how to survive in their own ways eventually, forming cultures and communities, and learning to exist and coexist with each other in unique and creative ways. It had seemed bleak then, had led to a decision against the wishes of Clockwork and the others considered Ancient.

They had chosen a king, and Pariah seemed the obvious fit. His obsession would not allow him to shirk his duties or to leave a task unfinished. It had been a mistake of course, the realms were not meant to be so easily controlled, and Pariah could not stop.

An immovable object meets an unstoppable force.

“If you thought rationally of these duties, you would better understand. You could-”

“I could do many things,” Pariah offered, “but I have grown impatient, and I have been betrayed by whom I trusted most, and I will finish this if I have to raze it beneath me. Did your futures show you that, when you decided to turn against me?”

Clockwork stepped closer, “I seek a future where you stay, where you do not fade and where you are not Ended. I have never lied about that.”

Pariah scoffed, “but you would see me fall nonetheless.”

“I would trip you on the way down.”

Pariah did not respond to Clockwork’s obvious bait, just shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers as if he were dealing with an unruly child and not the embodiment of time itself, made form. He stood up from the bed and walked over to Clockwork, gently placing his hand over the clock in his chest that hid his core.

It was a delicate touch, and Clockwork was reminded, intimately of the night Pariah had left for his conquest of the Far Frozen, when he had begged Pariah to see sense one last time before deciding finally that it was too late and making plans to end his reign.

“Does it hurt?” Pariah asked, his voice a soft murmur, “I can find a way to bind you more intimately, to steal away your power and leave you adrift instead, your obsession barely a thought underneath the simpler desire to exist.”

It was a threat, Clockwork knew that, but with the way it was spoken- just barely loud enough to hear with Pariah's lips pressing softly against Clockwork's temple- it sounded much closer to a promise and Clockwork fought the urge to shiver in fear. It would only entice Pariah further.

He lifted his arms, placing his hands on Pariah’s bare chest in an attempt to push him away, but it did little to stop him from simply pulling Clockwork closer, his hand moving from Clockwork’s chest to settling at the small of his back. It was vexing indeed, that every move Clockwork made to separate them brought him closer instead.

“What use would I be then?” he scowled, blushing from Pariah’s proximity and the heat emanating from his core.

Pariah just hummed, amused and unhurried, “well, you would still be nice to look at.”

He backed away before Clockwork could sink his teeth into him, having learned his lesson when he woke up short an eye. Clockwork growled and Pariah chuckled, his eyes bright with mirth and affection. The intensity of the emotions made Clockwork blanch, just how much further would they fall?

“Clockwork,” said a familiar voice, made strange only by the fact that it wasn’t Pariah’s, “so this is where he’s been keeping you?”

Clockwork practically wilted in relief, “Nocturn, you put yourself at risk coming to see me.”

The other Ancient rolled his eyes and stepped forward, his gaze tracking around the room and cataloguing every spell and rune Pariah had built into the walls to keep it as his prison. “A risk I felt necessary, we need you or our plan will hardly amount to much.”

“You’ve completed the tasks then?” he asked, hopeful.

Nocturn nodded, “as much as they can be, we crafted the sarcophagus, and Sojourn holds the key. The rest are ready and in place, we just need the crown and the ring.”

So it was finally time then. Clockwork sighed, “I don’t suppose you can help me out?”

A smile stretched wide across Nocturn’s face, “why do you think they sent me? ”

He had not left Pariah’s keep, there was no need to. Instead, Clockwork waited in the throne room for the King to return from his most recent battle. It had been a long one, and Pariah was likely hoping to be able to come back to his keep and rest.

Fortunately, that is exactly what Clockwork was planning on giving him.

“Are you so desperate to be punished?” Pariah asked once he saw Clockwork there, sitting on his throne. He wasn’t bothering to sit properly either, his legs crossed underneath him, smirk firmly planted on his lips.

“I don’t know what you mean my king, I have not left your keep, as commanded.”

Pariah growled, stalking forward, “how did you escape the tower-”

Clockwork froze time then, pulling tight on a power long held out of reach and relished the burn of it as it flowed through him. It would not hold long, but it didn't need to. He quickly flew over to Pariah, coaxing the ring from his partially opened hand and then reaching up for his crown.

But as his hand touched the cold black metal Clockwork felt his powers jolt, as if electrified, and time started around him once more. Pariah grabbed him by the wrist, extended as it was over his head, and threw him into the ground, releasing him only long enough to pin him underneath his knee, his hand glowing and aimed directly at Clockwork’s core.

“Did you think I would fall for the same trick twice?” Pariah mocked, “did you think the only chains I bound your powers in were those of that room? That I could not foresee your escape?”

“I had been optimistic,” Clockwork said, glaring up at the crown. It was close, so very close.

It would have to be enough.

Pariah crushed his wrist tighter in his grasp, “give me back the ring.”

Buying time, Clockwork shook his head, “you know I won’t do that, Pariah.”

“So you wish to increase your punishment, so bored in your tower that you long for pain instead? Perhaps I should take a finger this time.”

“That would be unnecessary, your highness,” said a voice from behind him and Clockwork twisted, manipulating his body so that Pariah knelt on stone instead. It wasn’t enough to escape, Pariah grabbed him once more and dragged him into his arms. Before Clockwork could manipulate his form again an ectoblast glowed in Pariah's palm and burned a handprint into the curve of Clockwork’s neck.

Quickly, he threw the ring towards Nocturn, who caught it easily and made a show of studying it.

“You dare enter my keep uninvited?” Pariah growled, his hold on Clockwork both a threat and a promise to deal with him later, once this new threat was handled. The ground shook around them, skeletons and countless more or less rotted corpses dragging themselves up from the depths of the earth beneath them.

But Nocturn simply looked around at the shambling forms collecting around him, he made no moves to defend himself, “Do you not seek dominion over all ghosts? Surely this keep is open then, to your citizenry.”

In the moment Pariah commanded an attack, a blast of energy shot him from behind, knocking his crown crooked and loosening his grip on Clockwork. He took the chance he was given, twisting time just enough to escape fully, and threw himself out of reach entirely.

Pariah’s eyes blazed .

“Clockwork -” his growl was interrupted though, when the rest of the Ancients entered the room and began to attack.

Sojourn grabbed him by the arm, “we should get you out of here.” Clockwork shook his head, unwilling to leave before he saw this through in its entirety.

Nocturn seemed to be of the same mind, “No, he should stay, Pariah’s rage will be his fatal flaw, and I doubt there is little else that will make him nearly as angry as Clockwork’s betrayal.”

“It is the second time,” he admitted and Nocturn cackled before melting a handful of the mindless monsters into stardust. Clockwork himself felt weak, so long with his powers suppressed and his obsession kept just out of reach. But it was almost intoxicating, pinching and curling time in looping spirals around the endless mob of death and watching them age into dust or simply cease to be depending on the direction he pulled.

His core pulsed in satisfaction, the actions he was taking now, they would lead to a better future, a more stable path, and it was important they succeed. A roar of rage cut through Clockwork’s thoughts and his core pulsed for a different reason entirely, recognizing Pariah’s anguish as he lost the fight, alone, betrayed.

Their eyes met, and Clockwork froze, caught in his gaze. But before anything more could happen, Pariah’s eye slipped closed and he collapsed into slumber. Nocturn and Misery stood over him, they had taken the chance at Pariah’s distraction to enact the next stage of their plan. Clockwork swallowed down the guilt that had lodged in his throat and drifted slowly over to them.

“The sarcophagus?” Misery asked, and Nocturn allowed his illusion to drop fully, revealing the final part of the plan. The Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep. Even Pariah, stubborn and bullheaded as he was, would not be able to escape this alone.

Misery lifted the sleeping King with her strings, placing him inside, gently for Clockwork’s sake. Sojourn had the key. And as long as no one was foolish enough to try and steal it to wake a half-crazed tyrant, then everything would go exactly as they had been planning for so long. It was hardly perfect, as far as outcomes went, and there were so many ways that it would have and should have gone wrong, but it was the only thing Clockwork could stomach and the others had not fought nearly as much as he’d expected at his insistence. Perhaps they too, did not desire the End of an old friend on their hands?

Nocturn bent to grab the crown from Pariah’s head but Clockwork held him back, his gaze flicking quickly through futures and possibilities before finding a strand, silver and strong with an appeal he had not thought to seek before, “leave the crown, he cannot use it in his sleep after all.”

“Are you sure?” Misery asked, her veil shifting as she tilted her head in her confusion, “what if he should be awoken?”

“What if he wasn’t, but the crown fell instead into the hands of another? Will we start a collection of Kings?” Clockwork countered, closing the lid of the sarcophagus and looking around for Sojourn. He was still fighting, having quite a fun time with the others as Pariah’s keep continued to struggle against them. It wrenched at his core, the thought of them attacking Pariah so intimately, but he had cast his fate against Clockwork’s warnings and this was his due.

Nocturn chuckled, “no, I suppose not. I think we’d all prefer just the one.”

“Yes,” Clockwork agreed, looking far into the future, “Everything is the way it’s supposed to be.”

Misery rolled her eyes, “Do you think Sojourn remembers that we need the key to lock it?” she said, her eyes tracking the other ghost as he fought.

“... I’ll go get him.”

“Clockwork, are you one of the Ancients?” Danny asked one day as a distraction from his homework. It had been a stressful day for him, and Clockwork was perhaps too forgiving when it came to trying to keep him on track.

He turned away from his screens to answer, “I have been called as such.”

Danny stuck out his tongue, and Clockwork tried to smother the affection building in his core before it overflowed, “Jeesh, ‘I have been called as such’. Does the word yes give you hives or something?”

“Yes.”

Danny threw a cushion at him.

“Why do you ask?” Clockwork didn’t bother to dodge, instead choosing to rewind the cushion’s time until it was back in its proper place and Danny was left pouting at his failed attack.

He shrugged, “dunno, just… was kinda curious about Pariah I guess? What his whole-” Danny made a vague gesture with his hand, “deal was, you know?”

Clockwork nodded, then he pulled up an image of Pariah’s Keep in his largest mirror for Danny to see. There was nothing particularly exciting, just a coffin that held a sleeping king, his castle long abandoned and left to ruin.

“He was chosen because it was thought his strength and his obsession would be the best fit for the job. And perhaps, in a way that was true, he was certainly among the strongest of ghosts, and more importantly, was the most feared of them all.”

The image changed to an older one, of Pariah and his council speaking, Clockwork standing at his shoulder. Danny looked surprised to see him, but Clockwork waited until Danny’s next question to explain further.

“What was his obsession? I mean, I was never really king but even I could tell that job would suck . Was he just obsessed with power or something similar like, I don’t know, conquest?”

There were some that accused him of such, near the end, “his obsession was not dissimilar to your own, in a way. And it was formed I imagine, for similar reasons.”

“Clockwork, that doesn’t answer my question.”

He chuckled, “I apologize, old habits die hard after all.”

“Clockwork!” Danny pouted, and he had to hide his laugh in his hood or risk the child’s further ire.

“His obsession was with Duty. It was not something that could be left undone, nor unfinished. If he needed, he would do the task himself and see it through to its completion.”

Danny’s nose wrinkled in confusion, “that doesn’t sound so bad? I mean, especially not for a king?”

“True,” Clockwork admitted, “his downfall came about when he was tasked with uniting the Realms.”

“The Infinite Realms?” Clockwork nodded, “he knows those are infinite right? That’s like, the whole point!”

Clockwork agreed, “an impossible task, and a powerful obsession. Which one breaks first?”

There was a moment of pause, Danny looking at the screen, at the bits of Pariah’s time as king that played on like a silent movie. He frowned, “couldn’t he just… have done it differently?”

“How so?”

“Just-, I don’t know! Differently!” Danny said, agitated. Clockwork hummed thoughtfully, perhaps this would be a good chance for a lesson?

He tilted his head, curious. The futures around Danny were often varied and fractured, every decision made at the drop of a hat and each and every one exceedingly important. There was no real way to know which direction they would be going in if Clockwork did what he was thinking of doing.

But Danny had subverted expectations before, and Clockwork was nothing, if not born of Chaos.

“Daniel, could you do me an errand?” he asked.

Danny agreed easily, and Clockwork set him the task of collecting a certain key. It was a learning opportunity, if anything. Danny would have to realize he was no different from any other ghost and just like them was beholden to his own obsession. He would likely realize along the way exactly what it was like to struggle against it.

After all, what was Pariah now, but a ghost that needed help?

#Danny Phantom #Pariah Dark #Clockwork #Pariah/Clockwork #Dark Ages #Bee's writing #eye mutilation tw #Phic Phight #phic phight 21

80 notes · View notes

geekgirles · 3 years ago

Text

Your Heart

Chapter 7 -- Black Hearts

Word Count: 15131

READ ON AO3

For many, the Ghost Zone landscape would be chilling, at best, and nightmare-inducing, at worst. Unlike Earth and its well-defined limits, both natural and manmade, the Infinite Realms consisted of an infinite abyss of floating ectoplasmーif you travelled, you knew where your journey would start, but not where it ended. Most people didn’t even know when it ended, either.

Only a few experienced visitors were knowledgeable enough to recognise each and every one of its landmarks to guide them. Fortunately for Danny, he was one such experienced visitor. As well as an inhabitant.

Maybe he didn’t know the Ghost Zone like the palm of his invisible hand, like Sojourn had in his day, but seven years of travelling back and forth between dimensions had certainly outlined a pretty accurate map of the dimension in his mind’s eye. That, and the fact that the Far Frozen trusted him with the Infi-Map now and then also helped.

But even he had to admit, crossing over to the other side during his first few months as halfa had been terrifying. His past self would never have been able to believe he’d one day be flying around what was on the other side of his parents’ portal like he walked down the halls of Casper High every day of the week for four years.

Indeed. Getting to see the Ghost Zone for the first time had been even more mind-boggling than getting used to suddenly being able to walk through the walls, disappear, and fly. Compared to Amity Park, his kingdomーhe didn’t think he’d ever get used to calling it thatーwas a haunted house, sponsored by Bill Gates and provided with cutting edge animatronic and holographic technology, and open all year long.

Well, it would have been sponsored by Bill Gates if it weren’t for Vlad overshadowing him and selling the company to himself years ago.

Considering he’d rather die (twice) than buy anything belonging to VladCo, Danny found himself being very glad the Ghost Zone was no haunted house, after all.

Now, however, he’d learned to appreciate the Infinite Realms for what they were; unpredictably beautiful. The once creepy light coming from the floating ectoplasm now reminded him of the groovy vibes one got from a lava lamp. Both substances were, in fact, pretty similar! Since ghosts created their own lairs, he didn’t have to worry over solving any sort of problem related to lack of affordable housing; unlike what he’d have to do had he been, say, mayor of Amity Park? President of the United States? And the repair damages were minimum! Ghosts didn’t usually throw rocks at their own roofs, so battles inside the Ghost Zone were rare.

Of course, that last one thing was a bit of a double-edged sword. Because it meant that while he didn’t have to worry about the possible destruction of the Ghost Zone, it also meant his subjects usually blew off steam in Amity Park...which then came to bite him in the ass in the form of a very angry mob of ghost-hating citizens.

The joys of living in two parallel dimensions at the same time…

Shaking those thoughts away, Danny refocused his attention on the current task at hand; patrolling the Zone in case anybody chose to ignore his orders and go against the witches during their next visit.

He’d be lying if he said nobody had warned him of the reaction his plan would most likely get from his subjects, both Frostbite and Clockwork let him know several times, long before he even sent the letter to Lady Arcana. Well, in all fairness, Frostbite had warned him; Clockwork just kept smirking at him with those all-knowing, secretive, red eyes of his. The only real warning he’d got from him was when he asked for his opinion on what’d happen and the Ghost of Time limited himself to raising his eyebrow at him with a, “What do you think?”

When he wanted to be, Clockwork was an invaluable ally and a great mentor. But that was only when he wanted to be, mind you. The rest of the time his smug crypticness was enough to make Danny want to throw himself off of a cliff.

But they’d both been right when they told him his subjects would not react kindly to the presence of witches in their realm. Who would’ve known phantom tomatoes acted just like the Fenton Foamer? If it didn’t put him in immediate danger, he would bring some home for his parents.

In the end, the only way to convince them to let the witches in was to ensure a powerful ghost would keep an eye on them at all times. Skulker would escort them to his lair, and from then on he’d be watching them himself.

Even if the spirits had eventually given in to his request, Danny knew better. He’d be a fool to think his advice would be heeded by every single inhabitant of the Ghost Zone. He had far too many enemies for that.

While most of his adversaries had turned into more of friendly rivals than outright enemies over the years, being capable of having civilised conversations with him whenever they weren’t trying to waste him or enslave Amity Park, there were many others who refused to bow down before a halfa. Ever since Pariah Dark was defeated the first time, ghosts had got used to living in anarchy, being able to do whatever they wanted as long as they were smart enough to not invade a more powerful ghost’s turf. So following some random half-ghost’s orders after centuries of chaos and freedom was out of the question for them.

On the one hand, many of Danny’s detractors were actually as delusional as the Box Ghost. More often than not, he’d be battling rogue spirits with barely formed physical bodies who were in way over their heads. Normally a few ecto-rays, some quick banter, and a little bit of Fenton Thermos was enough to take care of them.

But, on the other hand, the few more powerful ghosts who weren’t members of his usual rogue gallery truly sought to dethrone him. If they eliminated him in the process, even better!

Obviously, the most notorious member of this group was none other than Plasmius. The older halfa had orchestrated Pariah’s return with the intention of defeating him and becoming the next Ghost King himself, after all. And for what? To have his teenage, much less experienced archnemesis steal the crown right under his nose.

Danny had to admit, if it weren’t for the high price to pay that came with the honour wearing the Ring of Wrath and the Crown of Fire (an ‘honour’ he didn’t even want to have in the first place), he would’ve enjoyed screwing over with the fruitloop like that.

Ever since he became Ghost King, Vlad’s plans had been few and in between. Maybe a few attempts at making his life a living Hell, some shudder-worthy upgrades on his Maddie Programーhe swore, if he had to listen to a hologram of his mother call that demented creep ‘lambchop’ one more time, first, he was going to barf, second, he’d see red, or in his case, greenー, perhaps a few ill-conceived attempts at getting him to join him…

Despite Vlad’s inactivity, however, Danny knew better than to think he was just getting sloppy. Knowing Plasmius and his love for playing chessmaster, he was patiently biding his time. Sooner or later, he’d hear from him, and it wouldn’t be good.

Still, even if he was his greatest enemy in terms of personal interactions, Vlad wasn’t his most menacing foe in terms of sheer danger.

Spectra and Bertrand also wanted him gone, due to seeing his intervention as interference with their misery-sucking plans. Indeed, since he became Ghost King Danny was extra careful with who left the Ghost Zone and who was absolutely forbidden from even looking at a portal twice.

For example, knowing Kitty, she’d just want to go out on a date with Johnny, and, on paper, there was nothing wrong with that. Trouble came when Johnny ogled and hit on other girls with his girlfriendーrightーbesideーhim! Honestly, if he were Kitty, he’d pummel Johnny, too. Especially because his actions more often than not resulted in a jealous ghost girl causing mayhem.

The most useful life lesson he’d learned while going through puberty was also one of the firsts: girls were scary. And that seemed to apply to all girls regardless of their species; humans, ghosts, witches, gorillas…

Spectra was no exception. Due to her need for misery to keep herself young and powerful, the shadowy ghost needed to learn how to get under her victims’ skin to exploit their weakness to the point of making them miserable enough to harvest. And, Danny knew from experience, that was far more frightening than any other ghostly power Spectra could ever possess.

She saw beyond people’s masks, no matter how carefully crafted they were, and got inside your head. Not only did she know your biggest fears and insecurities, but how to exploit them and make them all come true. She forced you to live your worst nightmares over and over, almost as if she were Nocturne's far more malevolent accomplice, reaping your fears like a farmer would reap wheat.

Spectra threw those insecurities in your face, reminding you that you weren’t good enough, explaining to you why you weren’t good enough, and assuring you would never be good enough; all in that sadistic, cheery tone of voice of hers. Just thinking about it was enough to send chills down his spine.

But what was truly the most daunting thing about Spectra was that, for years, she’d been feeding off of some poor kid’s low self-esteem and personal issues under the pretext of being a psychologist. Her office back in Casper High before he found out the truth and defeated her was full of pictures of her and sickly-looking kids; her previous victims. Dozens of kids who were completely at her mercy because she’d spent years roaming freely around Earth, blending in, long before he was even born, let alone had the accident. Dozens of kids who’d surely been as deeply traumatised as he’d been. Or, even worse, dozens of kids Spectra managed to push over the edge, under the guise of helping them.

That psychotic old hag and her lap dog had a special place in his black list just for their mere potential of becoming a threat, let alone when they truly were threatening. As a result, one of the things he wasted no time in as soon as he became Ghost King was to ensure they wouldn’t be going back to Earth in a very long time.

Needless to say, his interference with their ‘feasts’ was enough to have them declare war on him. Well, let them come. He’d be waiting for them.

Another ghost who tended to give him quite a headache whenever he felt like taking his turn at challenging him was the Fright Knight. Back in their first encounter, his first Halloween after gaining his powers, Danny believed he was a formidable foe. Incredibly powerful and hellbent on turning the world into his nightmarish kingdom, the Fright Knight used to be one of his most dangerous adversaries.

Key word being ‘used to.’ Well, that was two words, but whatever.

In their next encounter, which, coincidentally, also happened to be when Pariah Dark was released (thanks again, Vlad), the almighty, terrifying, ‘flaming sheets of doom’ Fright Knight had been relegated to errand boy.

As Danny would soon come to realise, the Ancient Spirit of Halloween was proud, but tremendously cowardly.

If he believed himself superior to his opponent, he would show no mercy. But the moment he was one-upped by someone else in terms of power, he’d cower and bow down in submission. Which made their personal relationship with each other all the more interesting.

In terms of power, Danny knew, maybe a little too smugly, that he had the upper hand. Whereas in their first battle he managed to defeat the Fright Knight just barely, years of ghost-fighting, of developing new powers, and of being in possession of the ring and crown (which he still refused to use unless it was absolutely necessary), had shaped him into a formidable fighter.

And the Fright Knight knew that, which was why he often avoided conflict with him.

In terms of respect, however, due to Danny being extremely young compared to other powerful ghosts, the way he ascended the throne and, to add insult to injury, the fact he was half-human, the medieval-like spirit refused to accept him as his ruler. Hence, his rare attempts at taking him down.

All in all, even if the Fright Knight quite wasn’t the same threat he once was, Danny knew he still should watch out for him. Because for all his self-importance, the Halloween Spirit really was undergod material, and that meant whoever employed him would be much worse than him…

Like Vlad.

Other than Plasmius, Spectra, Bertrand, and the Fright Knight, the other ghosts who challenged his rule were the god-like ones; Undergrowth, Nocturne, Vortex… But they usually kept true to their goals of world domination so it wasn’t much of an issue, in a way.

While he hadn’t had an encounter with any of his old nemesis for a while, it was all a matter of time before they chose to use his tentative alliance with the witches against him. Which brought him to his current patrol. As he oversaw the vast infinity of the Ghost Zone, steering away from Ghost Writer’s manorーanother lovely fella who didn’t quite like him, even if he surely wouldn’t try to usurp the throneー, Danny used his vantage point to make sure no suspicious activity was going on.

Just as he was about to call it a night, his eyes caught sight of three familiar silhouettes standing on top of a drifting chunk of rock not far away from him. Furrowing his eyes in suspicion, he sped up to catch up with them. In a matter of seconds, he’d flown across the distance separating him from his target until he was floating above the unimpressed expressions belonging to Ember McLain, Johnny 13, and Kitty.

The three of them seemed to be loitering around on top of the aforementioned drifting chunk of rock, looking bored and completely uninterested in anything around them. They almost looked like a bunch of teenagers just hanging out. Kitty was seated, cross-legged, on top of the bike seat, her elbows propped on her knees and her hands cupping her face. Beside her, Johnny was leaning against his bike, arms crossed. A few feet away from them, sitting on a rock with one leg crossed on her other knee, Ember was mindlessly tuning her guitar. That wasn’t suspicious at all...

Over the years, some of his most recurring opponents decided to upgrade their look, like Technusーthe guy was more fashion-oriented than Paulina Sanchez from high schoolー, while others remained mostly the same but with a few added upgrades to their modus operandi, such as Skulker.

Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, depending on how you looked at it, the hunter’s girlfriendーhe had to physically stop his gag reflex from acting up whenever he so much as thought of those two as a coupleーchose to remain true to her signature look. The same flaming, blue ponytail; the same tight, asymmetrical, black outfit; the same haunting green eyes and exaggerated make-up that contrasted greatly with her deathly pale skin…

All in all, Ember was pretty much the same. Still loud, still vying for attention, still obsessed with leading teenage rebellion through music...And she still had the same awful taste in boyfriends. Although, he supposed, in a way Skulker wasn’t as bad a catch as her best friend’s beau.

Kitty did change her outfit, albeit slightly. Though she still favored her signature combination of black and red with just a touch of green, she’d abandoned her classical red miniskirt and fishnet stockings for a pair of skin-tight, red leather jeans. Instead of her mid calf boots, she currently wore a pair of black, ankle boots. She still wore a black tank top, too, only this time it was much looserーjust like she also had the same green pendant. As for her unruly, green hair...she chose to wear it up in two twin buns, fittingly shaped after cat ears, each on either side of her head; with two loose strands framing her face. A pair of fingerless, black biker gloves completed the ensemble.

Everything about her screamed ‘biker chick’, the only thing missing was her own bike.

Maybe, tired of Johnny blowing her off, she’d decided to show him she was as much of a biker as he was, if not more. Or, maybe, she opted to dress that way precisely to remind her boyfriend and everybody else just who was Johnny’s girlfriend.

Honestly, the girl was sweet (sometimes), but she was a mystery. For all the complaining she did about Johnny, that certainly didn’t stop her from getting a 13 ーhis unlucky numberーtattooed on her right arm. Danny just wondered if Johnny had a kitten or anything even remotely resembling one tattooed anywhere on his own body.

...on second thought, he’d rather not think about it.

Johnny himself had changed a little, too, although nowhere near as much or as drastically as his girlfriend. To be honest, he looked exactly the same as always, except for his blond hair now being long enough to be tied in a low ponytailーKitty was right; it was greasyーand foregoing his trademark jacket, opting for just wearing his white undershirt and fingerless gloves, instead. But now that Danny thought about it, didn’t he use to wear a long-sleeved t-shirt, too? Whatever, back in the day it was hard to tell with his jacket anyway. Other than that, he was the same Johnny 13 who once tried to trick Jazz into becoming a vessel for his girlfriend.

Suspicion spiking up, Danny floated over towards them, still keeping a respectful distance in case Ember felt like playing a killer riff for his ears only. “What’re you three up to?” He didn’t feel like beating around the bush.

Their heads shooting up at the sound of his voice, the three ghosts looked surprised for less than a second, before adopting the same bored masks again. Though, to be honest, only the girls appeared bored with his presence, Johnny, on the other hand, looked annoyed, his eyes narrowing in distaste on him.

“What do you want, kid?” He spat.

Danny had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes. Again with the ‘kid’ treatment. It was always the ‘kid’ treatment. Never mind that he’d been a legal adult for three years now. “I asked you first, Johnny. But since you’re asking so kindly,” he deadpanned, voice dripping with sarcasm. He really didn’t have patience for this anymore, “I’ll repeat myself; what are you three up to?” He repeated, this time sounding more serious.

The biker ghost answered by letting out a puff of air, vexed. “What, now we can’t even chill in our own home? Are you going to give us a ticket for loitering or something?” He challenged, slowly making his way over to the halfa, trying to appear intimidating.

He walked calmly, almost calculatingly so, with his face morphed into a wicked grin, one that promised trouble. Once he was close enough to look Phantom in the eye, the two entered a silent staring contest, the tension between them flickering up. Even if the Ghost Kid looked much calmer than Johnny felt, he wouldn’t back down. “Your precious thermos won’t be of any help now.”

Side-glancing their testosterone levels rising from where she was, Kitty let out a huff. Hopping from the biker seat, she squeezed herself in between the two and separated them, both of her hands planted firmly on their chest. “Will you quit it, you two? Nobody’s buying this faux animosity you have going on.”

Knowing they’d been busted, the two jokingly moaned in disappointment, before sharing knowing glances and breaking down laughing. And all the biker girl could do in response was roll her eyes and shake her head, letting her face fall in her hand in exasperation while her boyfriend grabbed Danny by his shoulders and pulled him down, ruffling his snow-white hair with his knuckles. Really, the only difference between grown ass men and children was the size.

“Careful, dipstick. That techno geek of yours is going to get jealous if you keep flirting with others behind his back.” Ember said, watching everything from her rock with a smirk on her face.

“FYI, Tucker and I have an open relationship.” The half-ghost wasn’t above blowing a raspberry at her, making her roll her eyes in irritation. He also couldn’t prevent the snickers from escaping his throat at the sight of Kitty painfully elbowing Johnny on the side when he suggested if they could have an open relationship, too.

“With the way you’re constantly hitting on other girls, one’d think we’re already in one.” She pointed out hotly, her fist on her hips. “Besides, we both know you wouldn’t be able to stomach seeing me with other guys.”

“I can attest to that.” Danny added, remembering not-so-fondly the days he wistfully thought he was dating Paulina when, in truth, he was in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel. Johnny just rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, trying to play innocent.

“But now seriously, what are you guys doing?”

“You know, it really is offensive that you see us doing absolutely nothing and your first instinct is to think there’s something going on.” The biker crossed his arms over his chest, displeased.

“Oh, ignore him.” Kitty told him, putting her hand over the halfa’s shoulder. Even if it’d all been a scheme to make Johnny jealous, Kitty had sort of developed a soft spot for him. As long as he didn’t get in her way, she was one of the less antagonistic ghosts. Danny, in return, often let her and Johnny ‘sightsee’ around Amity Park, as long as they kept themselves out of trouble. “Though we really are doing nothing. Is there a reason why you’d think otherwise, Danny?”

Before the green-eyed boy could come up with a good excuse, Ember’s mocking voice beat him to it. “Oh, please, Kitkat! You should know better than that; he’s obviously got his whities in a twist because of those three harpies that so generously grace us with their presence.” She said in a fake, sugary-sweet voice. Sliding her guitar over her shoulders, the popstar got up from her seat and walked over to the other three. “By the way, shouldn’t they be gone soon? ‘Cause I’d really rather they don’t become regular visitors.”

At the mention of the witches, the easy-going atmosphere immediately tensed up. Just like Ember, Johnny and Kitty were now looking at him, expectantly. It was obvious no ghost appreciated their presence in their dimension. Coughing uncomfortable, Danny rubbed the back of his neck. How did he put this in a way they’d understand? And, most importantly, that wouldn’t encourage them to kill him? “Let’s just say...there’s no expiration date for this.”

“What?!” Growling, Ember’s ponytail flared up, a clear indicator that she wasn’t taking the news well. “What the Hell does that mean, dipstick?”

“Yeah, man! Don’t you know what those rune-reading bitches did the last time we let them near us? What do you mean you don’t know when this’ll be over?!” Johnny demanded, summoning a spectral chain out of thin air. Beside him, Kitty had a hand over her lips. But rather than looking surprised, it was evident she planned to blow his Majesty one of her famous, other-worldly kisses.

Distancing himself from them by rising up once more, his palms up in surrender, Danny tried placating them. That was the problem of having friendly rivals: everything was cool between you until you said something that irked them, then they’d try to destroy without much reservation. “Guys, trust me. I don’t like this any more than you do. But it’s our only choice! Do you seriously want to let the Ghost Zone collapse?!”

That made them settle down. But their glowing, menacing eyes urged him to go on, demanding answers. Sighing, he tried to gather his thoughts. How could he explain to them what he barely understood himself? On their next meeting he was going to demand some answers out of Lady Arcana; no way would he let her hog all the information while he remained in the dark. “Apparently, the witches are a little...rusty, you could say. They’re not as in sync with the portals as they used to be, so the Witch Queen needs to put in the effort to find a solution. That’s why it’s taken us longer than expected to put an end to this”

“And how do you know she’s not lying through her teeth?” Ember questioned in distrust. “That’s what they’re good at; if they need anything out of you, they’ll earn your trust. But the moment they’re done using you, they have no qualms as to what’ll happen to you next.”

“Ember’s got a point.” Kitty agreed. “How do we know they’re not just using us to get something out of us only to ditch us the moment they got whatever that is?” Then, she gasped as a horrible realisation dawned on her. “Even worse...How do we know they aren’t the ones responsible for everything?”

As the three ghosts began chattering and theorising amongst themselves, Danny tried to get their attention back on him. “Guys...Guys, listen...Guys, come on…” Seeing as they wouldn’t be paying attention to him any time soon, he lost his patience. “Would you just listen to me?!”

Satisfied that his abrupt outburst had shut them up, he smirked, before growing wary again. “I understand your concerns, because, honestly, they're mine, too. I know we can’t let our guards down around them; they’re not like the rest of humans. They aren’t a group of ghost hunters with advanced tech, or even more halfas who decided to turn their backs on the Ghost Zone and create their own society. They’re humans that were born with powers; they’re freaks of nature!

“But they’re also our safest bet right now. The Guys in White are too busy looking for ways to haunt me down or for stores that sell all-white clothes to even know how the ghost portals work. Not to mention, they’re too stupid to realise that destroying our world destroys Earth, too.” He rolled his eyes at that. The only thing worse than a pain in the butt was a useless pain in the butt. “Vlad would demand I pass the throne to him in exchange for his help, and we all know how that’d turn out.” He felt a small sort of satisfaction at their cringing faces. “And no ghost understands the mysterious nature behind the ghost portals. The only beings who’ve ever been able to surpass the lass separating both worlds are the witches; I’m sorry guys, but they’re really our only hope.”

“How do we know we can trust them?” Johnny insisted, not one to back down.

“We don’t.” was Danny’s reply, and he felt more defeated than in any previous fight.

The three ghosts exchanged glances, a silent conversation going on between them. Out of the three of them, Ember was the most antagonistic; if she really wanted to, she wouldn’t hesitate to attack him. The lovebirds were a different thing entirely. Most of the time Kitty was content just hanging out, and Johnny’s main goal was to please her, for things got ugly whenever his girlfriend wasn’t pleased… Having said that, just like they could act as just another couple of teenagers or young adults (he never really asked for their ages…), they could turn on him in the blink of an eye.

Dreading their reactions, Danny kept himself aloft. Close enough so they wouldn’t suspect, but far enough so he’d have enough of a head start to get the Hell out of there.

Finally, the three turned their heads to look at him. The fiery spirit was the one to speak. “And what do you plan to do about it?”

Her question sent the snow-white haired boy reeling. What did he plan to do about it? In all honesty, it was a good question. Even if he hadn’t seen Lady Arcana and her kind in actionーbeyond a floating book being shoved in his face, that isー, judging from what had been recorded in the Far Frozen’s archives and Sojourn’s journal, they were to be feared. Danny knew how to deal with rogue spirits and even ghost hunters, since his powers usually provided him with the upper hand, but actual reality warpers whose powers he knew next to nothing about? He wasn’t so sure how he’d fare in a fight against them.

Still, he was nothing if he wasn’t resourceful, and holding their meetings in the Ghost Zone gave him a certain advantage over a group of foreigners. He’d find a way. He had to. “Everything in my power.” He answered truthfully.

“I see.” Even though Ember didn’t look particularly impressed with his answer, she let it go. Walking over to her previous seat, her friends following her example, she called out to Danny over her shoulder, fluttering her eyelashes innocently. “So, anything to report, dipstick? How’s the missus back home?”

“Har har… Very funny, Ember.” The Ghost King replied sardonically. “You know I’m single.”

“Then you’d better watch out for all your rabid fangirls waiting for their chance to claim you as theirs, baby!” The popstar cackled maliciously. “Seriously, they’re like savage beasts! Lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right time to pounce.” She sighed as her laughter died down, pretending to wipe a tear off the corner of her eye. “Sucks to be you.”

“At least Dash Baxter is not part of my fanclub, unlike some other ghost I know...” He retorted, smugly. His smirk widened at the sight of Ember physically shuddering in disgust.

“That was low.” She accused, and all she got in response was a noncommittal shrug.

Eying their conversation with increasing interest, Johnny couldn’t help but add his two cents. “Cut her some slack, man. At least Ember isn’t responsible for the dude’s gay awakening.”

Grinning madly, Ember high-fived him while Kitty rolled her eyes at their antics in amusement, obviously used to them by now. And Danny….Danny didn’t know why he even talked to those guys. Flinching at the implications behind the biker’s jab, he opted to not dignify that with an answer.

“Can we change the topic to...I don’t know...literally anything else?” He begged. He’d have to bleach his brain to get the image of Dash making a Danny Phantom shrine, not unlike Paulina’s, out of his head.

Covering her mouth to quiet her chuckles down, Kitty took pity on him. “Guess who’s going to improv classes in her free time?”

Oh, Kitty. Sweet, compassionate, clingy, jealous Kitty. That was why she was his favourite...after Cujo. And Wulf...and after Dora...she was far behind Frostbite, too, that was for sure... Basically, his favourite after any other ghost he officially was on better terms with. But, hey, the intention’s what counts. “You want to be an actress?”

“It’s a nice hobby.” She shrugged before pointing her thumb at her boyfriend, looking unimpressed. “I’ve tried getting Johnny to come with me, but he just won’t budge.”

Danny pretended he didn’t notice the way Johnny, oh so subtly, inched a little further away from her. “Sorry, Babe. You know I love you, but that’s your passion, not mine.”

“And riding bikes is your passion, but at least I’m still there to support you!”

Uh, oh. The classic bike over girlfriend argument...The ghost biker had better come up with a good enough retort or Danny would be stuck trying to do damage control when they took the fight outside. And by ‘outside’ he meant Amity Park. Landing beside him, Danny elbowed the teenager lightly on the ribs.

At first Johnny just glared at him, but when the halfa returned his glare with a pointed look of his own, he caught his drill. “Don’t be like that, babe! You know I could never replace you. Thing’s just wouldn’t be the same without you.”

There was a twisted irony in the fact that the very same ghost who once tried to replace his girlfriend’s physical form with Jazz’s was the one saying he ‘could never replace her.’

Bored with his answer, probably from hearing it a million times already, the green-haired ghost just turned away from him with a huff. “And yet, that doesn’t stop you from trying. Why don’t you ask Shadow for support? I’m sure he’ll rock the miniskirt…”

Noticing Johnny getting frustrated beside him, if the way he curled his hands into fists was any indication, Danny immediately sent a panicked look at Ember, silently asking her for help. The popstar, in turn, just made herself comfortable. She stretched before leaning back on her rock, her arms behind her head. She was clearly enjoying the show a little too much to want it to stop.

Growing frustrated himself, Danny chose to take matters into his own hands. “I think what Johnny means is that, while you’re a great help and things wouldn’t be the same without you,” he sent a meaningful look the biker’s way, daring him to try and contradict him, “he fears hindering you instead.”

That caught her attention. “Really?”

A quick jab on his side from the halfa was enough to get Johnny talking. “Yeah, totally. I...I already got in between your dream once, Kitten. I’d hate to prevent you from fulfilling it ever again.” He admitted, and the somber way he said those words made Danny realise there was much more behind those improv classes than what meets the eye. Even if it was doubtful he’d ever get a clear confirmation as to what exactly that was, he had a pretty good guess.

“Oh, Johnny!” Tearing up, a hand on her chest, Kitty threw himself at her boyfriend’s arms. “I love you. And I don’t blame you for anything, you know that, right?”

He sent her a small smile. “Just because you don’t blame me doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven myself, Kitten.”

The red-eyed girl felt like tearing up all over again, but for completely different reasons. Deep down, she knew it’d be a long time before she convinced Johnny he wasn’t responsible for what happened, if ever. But for now, she was happy just touching his forehead with hers, showing him she’d always be there.

Coming to stand besides Ember, a content smile on his face, Danny just watched the couple. The popstar, on the contrary, didn’t look as pleased. “You just had to help them reconcile, didn’t you? You couldn’t let me have my fun.”

“Isn’t she your best friend?” He raised an eyebrow, looking down at her. “Don’t you care enough about her to want her to be happy?”

“I care more about her than you’ll ever know, dipstick.” Her voice was laced with venom, as if warning him to not overstep his boundaries, and...something else Danny couldn’t quite decipher.

The few times he’d seen the two girls interact, like when they haunted Amity Park just for kicks rather than some evil agenda, Danny would get the distinct feeling that there was some sort of thing going on between them. And, he had to admit, with the way their boyfriends regularly got on their nerves, Danny wouldn’t be surprised if the two decided to be each other’s Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy and eloped.

But then...there were moments like this. Moments where Kitty would look truly happy in Johnny’s arms, almost as if they never fought. And Johnny? Johnny looked at her like she was the most wonderful thing that's ever happened in his after-life. And she probably was.

Whatever happened to them, it was obvious it interlinked their obsessions with each other. And given ghosts’ complicated natures, it was unlikely they’d ever leave each other’s side. Which meant whatever feelings Ember harbored, they most likely would never be reciprocated. He wondered if Skulker knew…

After what felt like an eternity to their viewers and a few measly seconds to the couple, Ember chose to continue the conversation where they’d left it, in hopes of finally breaking the ‘cute couple’ apart. “So, how’re your classes going, Kitty?”

She also chose to ignore the dipstick’s disapproving look.

“Wha…Oh! My classes. Yeah...” She remembered; her question bringing her back from Wonderland. She cleared her throat in an attempt to clear her head and her stomach from the little butterflies only Johnny could cause her. “Most of the time it’s cool, but sometimes it’s just…” She made a face, as if that explained everything.

Danny tilted his head to the side. “How come?”

“She says the teacher’s instructions are wild.” Johnny supplied, coming to wrap his arm around her waist.

“The other day, for example,” she started, leaning closer to her boyfriend in a manner that looked almost unconscious, “he told me, ‘try to act like you care, only to don’t care at all,’” she mimicked, lowering her usual pitch to a much deeper voice, “and I was like, ‘okay...?’”

While her two friends exchanged agreements on how weird the directions were, Danny’s eyes lit up. “Oh, so like in high school!”

The three of them just stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “What?”

“You know, high school. The epitome of acting like you care when you really don’t care.”

Now, instead of looking at him like he’d grown a second headーsomething he’d actually done when trying to learn to duplicate himself, as a matter of factーthey were simultaneously staring at him and exchanging nervous glances among them. The same way a group of friends would do during an intervention. It was Johnny who broke the ice. “Yeah…” He said slowly. “I don’t think that applies.”

“‘Course it does!” Danny insisted, throwing a hand in the air as if that would validate his point, the other resting on his hip. “Think about it, in high school you’re expected to care about your marks, your extracurricular activities, hanging out with the right group...But deep down you don’t give a fuck about school and all you wanna do is stay at home playing video games, chatting with your friends, eating junk food…”

There was a beat of silence. But whereas the ghost couple wondered just how traumatic his high school experience had been, the popstar looked contemplative, a finger on her chin. “...he has a point.” She said, and now Kitty and Johnny were looking at her like she needed medical help. “Take it from me, the personification of teenage rebellion. My powers would be useless if teens actually cared about their education.”

“Hm, I guess that makes sense?” Kitty conceded. “Alright, so I gotta act like a kid in high school. Got it. Thanks, Danny!” She smiled brightly at him.

“Don’t mention it.” He waved it off.

“Speaking of high school…” Ember trailed off, and the almost predatory look on her face was enough to make Danny want to flee right there and then. “Has the great Ghost King found himself a queen yet? I know you said earlier that you’re single but, c’mon. That can’t be right. ‘Cause I’m pretty sure your last girlfriend’s that Red Huntress chick you used to date in sophomore year.”

“Dude, you haven’t had a girlfriend since high school?!” Johnny looked both personally affronted and astonished at the revelation. “Are you gay?”

Luckily for him, Danny wouldn’t have to blast him with an ecto-ray; Kitty already took care of it. “Johnny! Have you learned nothing from Mean Girls? You can’t just ask people if they’re gay!”

“Pretty sure the actual line was ‘you can’t just ask people why they’re white.’” Ember pointed out.

“Oh, that’s right. Anyway, doesn’t matter. It was uncalled for.” Then she lay her concerned, red eyes on the halfa and he couldn’t help but gulp loudly. He knew that look. He dreaded that look. It was the concerned-older-sister-looking-out-for-her-baby-brother look. Jazz had put a patent on it long ago. “Is something wrong, though? Several years without a girlfriend is a little bit unusualー”

“And worrying.” Johnny added.

“ーfor a young man. Do you want to talk about it? Or, even better, how about I organise you a blind date, hm? I’m sure we’ll find you a nice girl in no time!”

Could there be anything worse than ghosts concerning themselves over his love life? “I fail to see how that’s any of your business.” He said flatly.

Ember just looked at him like he was crazy. “Um, hello? For better or worse you are our king, dipstick. How do you plan on continuing the bloodline without even a girlfriend?”

“I could just have Vlad make me some clones…” He mumbled to himself. It was meant as a joke, but the mere thought of letting that fruitloop anywhere near his DNA was enough to send chills running down his spine.

Not hearing the halfa’s poor attempt to joke, Johnny snorted in response to Ember’s answer. Shaking his head as he walked over to Danny, his thumbs hitched at the hem of his pants, the biker draped an arm over the halfa’s shoulders in an almost brotherly fashion. “Cut it out, Ember.” He chided with no real malice, before focusing on Danny. “Don’t listen to her, dude. She’s only asking ‘cause she thinks getting laid will help you blow off some steam, enough so you get off our backs for a while.”

“Johnny!” Kitty scolded him, feeling sorry for Danny.

“What? You know I’m right.”

“Actually, he is.” The popstar admitted. “Saw right through me.”

His face flushing green, Danny pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. This could not be happening. First, they try to butt in on his love life, and now they comment of his sex life?! Somebody put him out of his misery…

“Again, I fail to see how that’s any of your business.” He groaned in dismay. He could only thank his lucky stars Sam wasn’t there to witness such humiliation. Wait a minute...Sam? Where did that come from?

As he battled with his thoughts, he’d have preferred it if his enhanced senses hadn’t caught Ember leaning close to whisper to Kitty in her ear, “Dipstick’s got no action in weeks, I tell you.”

That was it. “Okay!” He exclaimed, a little too loudly, as he clasped his hands together with a forced, cheerful grin on his face. “As lovely as catching up with you guys has beenーit was great, reallyー, I really ought to keep on patrolling. Ugh, the busy life of the ruler of the Ghost Zone. See ya!” He waved them goodbye as he took off in the direction he came from, drifting away from them.

Before he was out of earshot, though, Ember shouted after him. “While you’re at it try to find yourself a girlfriend!” Then, she mimicked putting something on her ring finger before singing at the top of her lungs. “If you like it, put a ring on it!”

As they cackled at his expense, Danny stopped mid-air. Like he’d ever let her have the last laugh… He cupped a hand around his mouth, calling out to her, “I’m surprised you’re not egomaniac enough to only reference your own songs!”

In an instant, all traces of amusement on the popstar’s face were gone, replaced by irritation. “Fuck you!” She flipped the bird at him, while her two companions now laughed their asses off at her expense.

Meeting her rude gesture with a mock salute and a cheeky grin, Danny turned around, flying away at top speed. Now that he wasn’t surrounded by a group of dimwits, he was alone with his thoughts.

More specifically, he was alone with the thought of Sam.

He really didn’t understand how her memory had popped up out of nowhere, let alone why it’d popped up right when they were discussing his love life, or lack thereof. Not that long ago, the face that would’ve made an entrance would’ve been Valerie’s. Not because he still had feelings for her, although he’d admit getting over her took him a while, but because she’d been the only girl he’d ever had a long-term relationship with.

Okay, maybe saying ‘long-term’ was exaggerating a bit. They began a tentative relationship that lasted all throughout the astounding amount of three different dates, several shared lunch periods, and two weeks.

But seeing as any subsequent attempt at dating someone new either ended in one-night stands, if he was lucky, or in half-finished dates after which the girls would tell him not to bother trying to call them, and that wasn’t even the worst outcome possibleーsometimes he’d been forced to stand them up altogether because of a sudden ghost attackー; he could safely affirm his time with Valerie was his longest dating experience.

And it didn’t even count as dating because she broke things off before they agreed on going steady. Oh, joy…

So, really, even if his feelings for Valerie had long faded, there was still that feeling of familiarity bringing him comfort.

But that still didn’t explain why he’d think of Sam of all people! Sure, they got along fine and they’d seen each other a few times already (last time at the restaurant they didn’t even need Tucker), but there was no sense of familiarity! They were friendly acquaintances, and no more.

So Sam was funny, and smart, and probably the sassiest girl he’d ever met. Sure, her wits and snark were enough to put some of his most punny opponents to shame, and he had a feeling she wouldn’t run out of puns to make during a fightーsomething even he struggled withー, not like she was the kind to make puns, anyway. And that fire that would light up in her eyes whenever she spoke about doing what’s right, and animal rightsーbecause, really, could anyone react more adorably to a Purple Back Gorilla?ー, and the occult... Or the way she stood her ground because she knew who she was and she was so confident in the person she’d grown up to be!

...So what if he needed someone like that in his life back in high school? He couldn’t change the past!

Sam was probably one of the most amazing people he’d ever met, but that didn’t mean anything. Guys could admire girls without having feelings for them or wanting to get inside their pants, now, couldn’t they? If Sam were there, in fact, she’d point out they actually should be able to admire girls with no ulterior motive.

Danny did a double-take, changing course when he was a minute shy of crashing against someone’s door. Sighing in relief as he wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead, he felt like smacking himself. Again with Sam! There was nothing going on between him and Sam!

Just because he thought she was cool it didn’t mean he was crushing on her or looking for ways to get into her bed. Speaking of...he also had the distinctive feeling she would pummel him to the ground if he so much as thought about it. He liked the feeling of breathing without wincing because one of his ribs was piercing his lung, thank you very much.

Besides, no matter how awesome Sam was, she just wasn’t his type. A guilty part of Danny had to admit, aside from his amazon chasing tendencies (thanks again, Dad), he had a soft spot for preppy girls. His first ever crush was Paulina Sanchez, Casper High’s queen bee and cheerleading captain from freshman to senior year. Even Valerie, despite losing her wealth over the Cujo accident, stayed true to her style from back when she was still popular, just...without the brand clothes.

Sam was not preppy.

He guessed that was a factor in how shocking it’d been to find out she, as a matter of fact, came from a rich family. With all the dough Jazz had later told him her family had, Sam could afford to use new shoes every single day and then throw them all into the trash when she came back home.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she preferred to buy her clothes from second-hand stores and add her personal touch later on, knowing the money would go to different humane organisations, or to buy them from independent stores.

“Those are a bit expensive.” she explained the last time he and Tucker met up with her at the You Mocha Me Crazy. “But the clothes are high quality and tailor-made, so it’s worth it.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the memory. That was Sam; always grounded and level-headed, with the greater good in mind.

On second thought, it was unfair of him to judge Sam just because she wasn’t preppy. Sure, she wasn’t his type, but she was still beautiful. How could she not be? With her sleek, black hair that looked so smooth it could put velvet to shame. Or those hazel eyes of hers that were a crystal clear reflection of her soul, full of emotion and mystery. Or her soft, plumb lips, always accentuated by her unusual purple lipstick, drawing your attention to them, almost begging you to kiss them…

The image sent him reeling, almost shooting through the eerie, ectoplasmic abyss of the Ghost Zone before he forced himself to come to a sudden halt. He could hear his heart frantically pounding in his ears.

WHOAH!

Where did that come from?!

Danny took a moment to steady his breath, using his hands to scrub his face. What was he thinking? Just like he had to tell Jazz over a hundred times in the drive back home from the restaurant, Sam was just a girl he knew. A pretty awesome girl, but just a girl.

Even if she were more than that, which she wasn’t, his life was too hectic to involve anyone else. Especially not someone who could be used as leverage against him. There would never be anything more between them. The sooner everyone accepted his life was too complicated to have a normal relationship, the better.

As Danny finally flew back to his lair, he did his best to ignore the way his heart was still fluttering in his chest.

............

They were back to square one.

Just like the last time, Danny had guided Lady Arcana and her entourage deep inside his lair until they reached the Council Room doors. Her Majesty’s two witches kept guard at both sides of the door alongside two of his own guards, while the two royals went inside to discuss. They were still far away but in front of each other, the same old large wooden table separating them. And Lady Arcana looked like she wanted to dissect him with her own hands while he was finding the sweet release of permanent death all the more appealing.

Why was it that progress never lasted with this woman?

Sitting down as regally as possible on her chair, Lady Arcana once again materialised a book seemingly out of nowhere. Only, this time, Danny noticed it was even more beautifully crafted than the last one. “I managed to bring this grimoire with me.” That must’ve been the first time she initiated a conversation. “Hopefully, it’ll have the answers we’re looking for.” Without warning, her violet eyes narrowed to slits, looking at him with as much venom as she could muster. “This is your only warning, if anything happens to this book while it’s in your territory, prepare to face the consequences.”

He’d heard of treating books with respect (mostly from Jazz), but this was ridiculous! “Wow, it must be a really important book. What is it, signed by the author?”

Sam fumed at his pathetic excuse of a joke. Great, like she didn’t hear enough terrible one-liners from hanging out with Tucker. Difference being, she actually liked hanging out with Tucker. “As a matter of fact, it is.”

That took him aback. “Wait, it’s got its author’s autograph? Really?”

She stopped leafing through the grimoire’s pages for a moment to meet his incredulous look. “Of course not! I mean it’s really important!” Bringing the book close to her face, she sneered. “What, is the crown so heavy it turns your brain to mush?”

“Oh, it’s heavier than you could possibly imagine…” Danny muttered through gritted teeth, mostly to himself. As if the Witch Queen didn’t know that already. The dark energy radiating from both the crown and the ring was pure torture, and enduring it a job made for Hercules himself. He was about to retort with a comeback of his own, when his eyes focused on the book’s cover, more specifically, on the golden letters making up its title:

Lady Arcana’s Grimoire

A spike of suspicion bubbling within him, the halfa wasted no time in pointing out his discovery, daring her to contradict him. “If you’re so smart to have a spellbook under your name, then how come you claim you don’t know how to solve the portal problem?”

If she thought she could just trick him like that, she got another thing coming. So what if she was the leader of a group of conniving spellcasters? He’d been fighting toe to toe with Vlad, the biggest, most manipulative bastard he’d ever met, since he was fourteen. Exposing her evil plans would be child’s play.

Slowly putting the book down, Sam looked at Phantom with what she was sure was the most dumbfounded expression she’d ever had. What was he talking about? “Excuse me?”

The green-eyed ghost edged around the table, getting close to her at a tauntingly slow pace. Maddening slow. When he was finally by her side, he got so close she couldn’t help but flinch back. “Oh, you know. Just wondering if perhaps you’re not taking me for a fool and pretending to help just so you and your witches can buy your time and attack us.” He got in her face, his neon green gaze so intense it almost burned. “Hm, Lady Arcana?”

For a minute, Sam just stood there, without moving an inch from her seat. Not understanding his sudden animosity. She’d be lying if she said there wasn’t tension in the air whenever the two met up, but most of the time Phantom acted cheeky around her, taunting her with his cocky attitude, as if gauging her reaction and trying to figure out when he’d get a reaction out of her. At most, he’d seem annoyed or resigned when working with her.

But this?

This cold treatment that translated itself into a literal drop in temperature in the room around her? His cool, accusing voice that made shivers run down her spine and the fire of aggravation light up in her heart? The way he looked at her like she was naked in front of him, and not in a lustful way, but in a way that made her feel like he could see right through her?

This was new, and she couldn’t say she liked it.

A dark scowl making its way to her face, the young sorceress spat. “What are you getting at?”

Danny was looking at her through half-lidded eyes, his smile more dangerous than the countless beasts lurking on the Ghost Zone’s most remote corners. “I’d suggest you undo whatever it is that your kind did to the portals, because let me tell you, I will not go easy on you just because you’re a girl.” He growled in a menacingly low tone.

Sam could only gasp in astonishment. But the feeling didn’t last long, soon being replaced with outrage. How dare he? Who did he think he was to accuse her and her people of putting their own lives in danger?! And all for what? To get back at a group of bodiless puppets? He had a lot of nerve.

“Listen up here, you jackー!”

“Uh, uh, uh!” Phantom cut her off with a sing-song voice, a scolding finger raised up and wagging right in front of her face. “A queen shouldn’t cuss like that, your Majesty. It’s not beckoning.”

The purple-eyed witch clutched the table with her hands so tightly, she could hear it splinting under her digits. But she didn’t care. He was taunting her, waiting for her to make the first move so he wouldn’t be accused of attempting against the life of the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park. After all, the punishment was different if an attack was in self-defence, wasn’t it?

She was about to make a mistake when his cocky voice distracted her. “I’m waiting, Lady Arcana.”

Again with the sarcastic tone. Why did her name have to do with any of this?! First he said whatever nonsense of having her own book, which was absolutely ridiculous because she was an avid reader, not a writer. Then he got impossibly close and had the nerve to mock her title, right before accusing her of causing the rifts, and now…

Now it hit her.

To Danny’s immense surprise, instead of retaliating, Lady Arcana limited herself to picking her precious book back up, her irate expression morphing itself into bored disbelief. “When you said I have my own book, did you mean this?”

“Considering it’s the only one with your name on it, then yes. That’s the one.” He deadpanned. What was she up to?

His eyebrows shot up to the ceiling when she sighed, looking beyond done with the entire situation. “If you must know, I’m not the Lady Arcana who wrote this book. She died centuries before I was even born. This grimoire,” she did the unthinkable and handed it to him, “is sort of her research journal. Everything she learned about magic during her time, it’s there. And since our respective species didn’t part ways until long after her death, it should have the answer to the portals as well.”

Listening to her explanation, he glanced down at the book in his hands. Gingerly skimming the pages, for he knew the witch would do well in her previous promise, Danny eyed its contents. Aside from the numerous runes he couldn’t understand and the mysterious drawings he didn’t know how to interpret, it was obvious that in spite of the book’s pristine condition, it had seen better days. The pages were yellowish and rough to the touch, their edges worn-out. And even if one could still make out the symbols, the ink was very washed-out.

In short, there was no way this book belonged to the woman in front of him.

Averting his eyes, he handed it back to get before floating over his own seat and flopping down on it. Ashamed by his actions, though not entirely convinced of the witches' innocence, he slumped down in his chair, refusing to meet her scrutinising, violet eyes.

Unfortunately for him, Sam was not having it. “Will you now stop talking about things you know nothing about?”

“I would if you at least let me know something!” He sulked, and Sam couldn’t believe to save her life that a ghost could actually act so childishly.

“Do you have the slightest idea of how frustrating it is to be at a disadvantage?” he went on. “You know what ghosts are capable of, you see them all the time on the news!” Okay, that was a wild guess, but it helped his case. “But I know next to nothing about you, and you refuse to even the ground. So excuse me for thinking you might be responsible for our current crisis because I see your name on a book that’s supposed to put an end to said crisis!”

When a few minutes went by and Lady Arcana still said nothing, he got worried. Either he’d crossed a line and ruined any chance of working together with her in the future, or he’d crossed a line and she was silently cursing him. A morbid part of him wondered if being turned into a frog would be easier than being half-ghost. Both predicaments had something in common; he could end up at someone’s dissection table.

Then, the most unexpected thing happened. “You’re right.”

Danny was so astounded he shot forward from his chair, eyes wide. “Come again?”

The halfa resented the way she rolled her eyes at him. It was a legitimate question! “I said, ‘you’re right.’” She said, leaning forward and trying to meet his eye. She was finding it increasingly more difficult, and Sam had to wonder if it was due to his previous outburst or her own shame. “We’re both sticking our necks here, working with each other. My people might be secretive, but the least I could do is even the ground, as you say.”

Even if, ideally, Phantom was the last person Sam wanted to be honest with, having to lie to so many people in her life was taking its toll on her. And she figured, as much as she hated it, he had a point. It was hard trusting someone when they always kept you in the dark. Her own experiences with Wilhelmina proved that.

But she had to make some things clear, first. “Before I tell you anything, however,” a small, amused smile appeared on her face when she saw him deflate, “I gotta lay out a few ground rules.”

Phantom sighed. “Fine. State your terms.”

“You can ask me whatever you want, and I will tell you as much as I can, but there are things I simply cannot divulge. You must respect that. Got it?”

Knowing that deal could easily become a double-edged sword, against his better judgement, Danny nodded. “Got it.”

“Very well.” She leaned back on her chair, her back straight and fingers firmly clasped together on top of the table. “What do you want to know?”

The halfa didn’t even have to think of his question; it’d been plaguing his mind since he first met her. “How does your magic work?”

Well, that much she could answer. The young queen couldn’t help but see the irony in the way she was about to willingly disclose the very same information she’d viciously guarded from Danny to the Ghost King. “What you call ‘magic’ is the art of learning to control and manipulate one’s anima at will.”

“Anima?” Phantom tilted his head to the side. Sam couldn’t help but think he looked like a ghost puppy.

She nodded as she raised one hand to her eye-level, palm up. With a snap of her fingers, the same sparkly, purple mist he remembered from the floating book accident surrounded her hand. He could only look on, stunned. “Our essence.” Lady Arcana explained, mindlessly playing with the mystical energy, watching as it slipped through her fingers like water. “Believe it or not, everyone has an anima, not just witches. The only difference is that we know how to tap into and summon it.”

“So is it like my ecto-energy?”

“In a way. There is a difference, though.”

“Which is?” He urged her, but she just shook her head.

Danny was beginning to think that was one of the things she’d refuse to share with him when she clarified. “As with the portals, that knowledge was forgotten long ago. We don’t know what makes our essences different; we just know they are.”

“And what about the spells?” Ever since Sam cryptically told him about them, Danny’d been racking his mind for answers, trying to put two and two together. But he always came out empty-handed. He just hoped Lady Arcana had the answers.

She sighed, and once again the halfa feared he wouldn’t get his answer after all, but once more she surprised him. “They’re intrinsically linked to our culture.” He couldn’t help but flinch when she sent him a meaningful look. “They’re also the reason why I call myself Lady Arcana...when that’s not my name.” She admitted quietly.

Understanding the best he could do was give her time, Danny leaned forward, resting his chin on his intertwined hands that were propped on the table in front of him. He waited with bated breath for her to speak. “To do magic, you have to know the secrets of the universe.”

“The secrets of the universe?” He repeated, eyes wide.

She nodded, pointing at her hand, the one radiating energy. “There is a secret language; the one the universe was created and communicates with. To do magic you need two things: to be in sync with your anima, and to know that secret language so you can get the results you want. Every spell we make we cast it by calling the secret name of whatever we set our minds to. Because of this system, in our culture names give you power. That’s why I go by Lady Arcana, because if anyone were to know my real name, it’d give them power over me.”

Danny had to force his mouth shut at her words. So witches were in tune with the universe on a whole different level than most people. A part of him couldn’t help but point out the similarities between the two, for if people were to find out his secret, he’d be completely at their mercy. Vlad had certainly used his secret against him in the past, the only way it didn’t do more damage than necessary was because he also knew his and could counter attack.

A part of him wished he could ask her the true questions plaguing his mind. Mostly, why? Why did her people sell ghosts out like that? Why did they choose ruining a centuries-long alliance was worth it? Why did they refuse to acknowledge the damage they’d done?!

Just why?

But the sharper part of him, the one who usually took charge of things when coming up with puns or ghost-fighting, knew that question would most likely go unanswered. And at worst it’d bring back the tension their, surprisingly, civil conversation had dissipated. So instead he chose to be the polite young man his parents raised.

“Thank you for coming clean to me, my lady. I…I understand it must’ve been difficult.” He tried to channel his best intentions through his grateful grin.

For a minute Sam just stared at the ghost in front of her, speechless. She had to admit, Phantom had proved he could be mature, albeit usually after enough jabs and pointless arguing, so it shouldn’t have come out as such a surprise that now he seemed genuinely grateful for her honesty. And yet, the sincerity in his glowing, green eyes, and the kindness radiating from his smile were enough to make her heart flutter, touched. The way he looked at her made him seem almost completely harmless, friendly, and caring.

It made him seem like Danny.

The past few days, after unexpectedly running into him in Verde Que te Quiero Verde, her mind always went back to him. A nice, warm feeling would bubble deep within her whenever she thought of his unruly, black hair, or his deep, baby blue eyes, or just his general kindness and alertness to the way other people feel… Sam would feel her face heat up whenever she remembered she still had his hoodie; or when she’d admit to herself that she didn’t know if she could ever give it back.

As nice as the feeling was, it certainly didn’t help when it clouded her judgement when she was carrying out her duties. Such as that very moment.

What was she thinking, comparing Danny Phantom to Danny Fenton?! They couldn’t be more different! Danny’s voice was rich and soothing, while Phantom’s had a certain echo that reminded everyone of his current state of being. Danny had absolutely no interest in following in his parents’ footsteps; he dreamed of being an astronaut and the Fentons had often neglected him and his sister in favour of ghost-hunting. Phantom was both a ghost hunter himself and the very ghost Danny’s parents were after!

And most importantly, Sam could actually put up with Danny’s presence, whereas she’d more than once wondered if spirits could be strangled.

While she appreciated the Ghost King’s bout of friendliness, she’d have to remind herself that he and Danny were two entirely different people. But for now, it wouldn’t hurt to show some gratitude in return. “Thank you for listening and respecting my request, Phantom.” She smiled back.

The king shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. “It’s the least I could do. Hey, if you have any questions of your own, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll see what I can do.”

Sam was about to thank him for his offer but decline anyway when she changed her mind, an idea materialising in her head. Using her two hands for support to get up from her chair, she walked around the wooden table between them and towards her host. She didn’t stop until she was almost within touching distance.

Propping herself up against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest, in the most relaxed position Danny had seen her, she spoke. “If I ask a favour of you, will you grant it?”

“Depending on what you ask.” He replied truthfully.

She guessed that was fair enough. Unfolding her arms, she used one hand to point at him. “Please, refrain yourself from wearing...” she trailed off, vaguely gesturing to the Ring of Wrath and the Crown of Fire, “that during our meetings.”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. The only reason he wore the dreaded things in the first place was to keep her and her guards in line. If it meant not being vulnerable around them, he was willing to endure their torment. “You see, I wear these to show my very special guests just how seriously I take their visit,” Danny started, his voice dripping in sarcasm, before turning more serious with a menacing glare, his eyes glowing bright. “How do I know you won’t double-cross me the moment I take them off?”

Sam didn’t like the way this conversation suddenly turned from civil, to accusing. Again. “How do I know you won’t use them to double-cross me?”

“I believe I asked you first.”

Growing irritated, Sam clutched at her skin. “Simple; I’m not the one wearing that.”

There was a reason purple-eyed witches such as herself or Grandma Ida were so respected in their society; only they could resist the darkness their people so feared. And the dark forces radiating from the Ghost King’s crown and ring? They were vile. The age of eternal blackness, pain, and suffering they promised were enough to make her hairs stand on end. Therefore, seeing Phantom wield them so nonchalantly was a clear indicator that he was not to be trifled with.

Not uttering a word, Phantom got up from his chair and made his way to her. Sam had to fight the urge to flinch away from him in fright when he stood, imposing, in front of her. “Funny.” He said with a hint of sick amusement in his voice. “It was a gift from your kind.”

Sam could only gasp at his words, a hand to her chest and her feet unconsciously taking a few steps back. However, before she could fully register his words and react accordingly, the ground at her feet started moving, unprompted. Her body involuntarily swaying from the sudden tremors, she tried to keep her balance by hopelessly flailing her arms, in search of support.

But her efforts proved themselves fruitless when another, stronger, jolt tossed her down to the ground with a low thud. The only reason she even registered she’d fallen was the sudden change in perspective; Phantom, who, seemingly on instinct, had risen up in the air the moment the room shook, went from being in front of her to horizontal.

“What’s going on?” She choked out, too disoriented to even stand.

Noticing the turmoil in her voice, their previous conversation forgotten in favour of the current events, Danny was by her side in an instant, gently helping her up. This could only mean one thing. “Uh, no…”

“‘Uh, no?’” Lady Arcana asked, holding onto his arm for dear life. “‘Uh, no’ what?”

Before Danny could so much as offer an answer a distinct cry in a language he didn’t understand could be heard from the other side of the door. In the blink of an eye, a gust of bright yellow wind came crashing through the door, reducing it to smithereens. What was truly unbelievable, however, was the way the wind seemed to have solidified with the intention of bursting the doors open.

Fast as lightning, Lady Arcana’s trusty companions rushed into the room, looking for their queen. The teenagerーSusan, Danny believedーwasted no time checking over her leader. “Your Majesty, are you okay?!” As she asked, her bespectacled partner slid beside their queen, offering her to lean into her for support. “We were guarding the doors when suddenly the lair started trembling!”

“I’m fine, Susan. Stand down.” She reassured her. “Are you guys alright?”

“Affirmative, your Majesty.” The strawberry blonde one answered, adjusting her glasses with her free hand, the other still holding Lady Arcana by her waist. “But I believe we should leave immediately, whatever it is that’s going on, it’s not safe!”

“What is going on, anyway?” Susan hissed, clearly suspecting of the ghosts’ ulterior motives.

To Sam’s surprise, Phantom actually looked sheepish. He was fidgeting with his gloved fingers with an awkward smile on his face. “This may or may not be my fault…”

The dark-haired queen was in no mood for half-assed answers like that. “Explain.” She gritted out.

“I seem to have forgotten to take care of the latest black hole forming before it reached its mature state.” He admitted.

There was a moment of silence where one could've heard a pin drop, until Sam screeched at the top of her lungs, “You what?! How do you forget to take care of a fucking black hole!?”

“What did I tell you about swearing?” He tried to joke, but the scorching glare he received from her in return made him gulp. “I know, I know. I really meant to take care of everything sooner, but things kept popping up and getting in the way. But don’t worry, I’ll fix this.”

“How?” Susan asked, her arms folded over her chest and her eyes glaring daggers at him.

“That...I don’t know.” He admitted, looking positively sick to his stomach. “I’ve never had to take care of a black hole in this state. But don’t worry, you three can go back home. I’ll manage; I always do.”

An impending sense of doom made Sam’s stomach churn. She didn’t know why, but she had a feeling Phantom wouldn’t make it if he tried to take care of the problem by himself.

And so, with a heavy heart, she turned to her witches, getting out of Stephanie’s well-meaning but suffocating grasp. “You two go back home, I’ll stay here and help him.”

“What?!” The two screamed in unison, and Sam could feel a bewildered Phantom looking at her like she’d lost her goddamn mind. She probably had.

Lo and behold, he was right there, agreeing with them. “‘What’ is right. You can’t stay here; your people need you!”

“King Phantom’s right, your Majesty.” Stephanie tried to reason. “What will become of the clan without you?”

“It’ll be madness!” Susan squeaked, looking scared for once in her life. “If anything, we should stay to ensure your safety!”

Touched beyond belief by their loyalty and devotion, Sam gently grasped their hands in hers. She tried to convey as much calmness as possible through her smile. “One way or another, the clan will find a way to revive from its ashes, even without me. That’s the way it’s always been. But I can’t live with myself knowing I stole two children from their families, and so, I must let you go.”

“B-but...your Majesty!” Susan whimpered, tears in her eyes.

Before she’d have a change of heart, the queen turned to the older witch. “Stephanie, you’re the better spellcaster. Take Susan with you and back to the clan.” Then she turned around and picked the grimoire up in her hands before passing it to her. “And take this with you. We can’t afford anything happening to it.”

“But what about you?!”

“I will do everything in my power to return to you.” She swore solemnly.

With a sad nod, Stephanie let go of her queen’s hand and took the younger sorceress with her. With a finger high in the sky, she cried out, “Omnes viae Romam ducunt!”

In a flash of forest green light, they were gone.

Now that they were alone (for Walker’s goons had returned to their boss the moment the shaking began), Danny turned to the Witch Queen. “What’s your angle?”

“I want to help you.” She said, never taking her eyes off of his.

“But what about your people?” He pressed. “Isn’t protecting them your top priority?”

“If what little I know of black holes and your world doesn’t fail me, letting one loose would mean the end of everything we know and love. So I am protecting my people.”

He couldn’t argue against that logic.

The moment was broken by the unanticipated feeling of being pulled towards an unknown direction. Noticing Lady Arcana staggering clumsily on her feet, Danny rushed to grab her by the shoulders in an attempt to steady her. Immediately, her own hands were grabbing firmly onto his.

As stable as his lair was, staying inside during a black hole would be dangerous and extremely foolish. Unfortunately, there was no time to explain. “My Lady, what I’m about to do might seem a bit crazy, but I need you to trust me on this. Can you do that?”

“What are youー?”

“Can you trust me?” He insisted, his bright, green eyes begging.

Under any other circumstances her answer would’ve been a definite ‘no.’ Phantom was a ghost and she was a witch. Her people had been foolish enough to trust them once and it cost them dearly. But at that moment, right then and there, against her better judgement, she did. When he looked at her like his life depended on her, she couldn’t deny him anything. Somehow, that terrified her more than the black hole.

“I do.” She breathed. “I trust you.”

One moment, he smiled at her so brightly Sam feared he might blind her. And on the other, he pushed her away from him, shoving her roughly to the stone wall. Fearing the worst, Sam braced herself for an impact that never came. Instead all she could feel was a tingling sensation coursing through her body before she landed on the dirt with a loud thud, but not hard enough to really hurt her.

When she opened her eyes, she was stunned to see she was outside of the lair’s confines, completely unscathed. How did she…? Her thoughts were put to a halt when she caught something from the corner of her eye that made her blood run cold, as well as her mouth drop in astonishment.

In front of her, in the middle of the infinite ectoplasmic ocean of the Ghost Zone, stood a ginormous swirl of never-ending blackness, engulfing everything within range. As she stood there, agape, the celestial body’s natural pull began to draw her in. Burying her heels in the ground, desperately clutching at the building’s walls for support, she suddenly felt a hand around her wrist, yanking at her in the opposite direction.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Phantom’s staring right back. “Don’t let go!” He instructed with a strained voice. He was using every bit of strength he had to fly them both in the opposite direction.

“How do we stop this?!” She cried out, holding onto him for dear life.

“I’m not sure!” He called back, his own hold on her never loosening. “As I said, I’ve never had to take care of a black hole under these conditions! The universe wouldn’t happen to have a code word for stopping this sort of thing, would it?”

She could only shake her head. “If it does, I don’t know what it is!” Oh, that was just great. The one time she needed her magic the most, and not only didn’t she have the answers, but she didn’t even know enough on the subject to find a mundane solution to it. If only Danny were there, he’d know what to do. “Ugh, why didn’t I pay more attention when we talked about Astrophysics!?”

At her words, a lightbulb lit up in Danny’s head. Astrophysics, duh! How could he have been so dense to forget his own area of expertise! All he needed to do was find a way to apply what he knew into a situation with a considerably smaller amount of money involved. To be more specific, he had about $3,75 in his pocket. As he struggled to keep both Lady Arcana and him safe, he kept looking at the black hole, studying its form and comparing it to every single piece of information he knew on them.

It wasn’t until he focused on his movements that it hit him. “I have an idea, but it might sound a little crazy.”

“Would you look at that? It goes with the entire situation we found ourselves in!” The sorceress chided with fake cheer.

“You can roast me with your sarcasm as much as you want later, but now I need you to listen to me.” He took her silence as a sign to continue. “I know what I have to do; I have to fly straight towards the black hole, but since I know it’s risky, I need you to run as far away as possible. Maybe even teleport yourself like your friends.”

“Are you crazy?!”

He shrugged it off. “A little. Please, it’s our only chance.”

Every second Lady Arcana didn’t answer his heart did somersaults in his chest. If it weren’t for his hands being a bit tied up at the moment, he would’ve started biting on his nails anxiously. After what felt like hours, she nodded. “Okay, but on one condition.”

“What is it?”

“Put us down somewhere remotely safe and I’ll tell you.”

In a quick succession of movements, he went from holding her wrist to holding her bridal style, his mind too preoccupied in finding somewhere safe to notice the way her cheeks reddened at the sudden intimacy. When he put her down on the floor he could only gape as she rolled her skirt and tied it up so it now reached her knees rather than the floor. But what truly caught his eye was what she was wearing on her feet.

“You wear combat boots under your skirt?”

At that, she put on a blank face. Now it was not the time for stupid questions! “Have you ever run in high heels?”

Admittedly, he had not.

“Thought so.” She hummed. “Besides, if you want me to run away from here, this gives me a greater chance at getting away. More mobility and all that.”

“Fine, I get it. So, what’s your condition?”

She looked at him. Her initial plan was to ask him to remove the crown and ring during any subsequent meetings, but now that he was staring intently at her, waiting for her answer with bated breath right as he was about to do the unthinkable, she found she couldn’t ask such a thing. Swallowing loudly, she got close to him; closer than she’d ever been. As soon as they were close enough their bodies almost touched, so close she could make out the green blush adorning his features, she placed her hands on his chest and slid them up slowly.

Unbeknownst to her, to Danny it was maddeningly so. He could already hear his heart beating in his ears, her lavender eyes seemed to gaze deep into his soul, when he heard the distinct sound of something unclasping. Before he knew it, his cape had fallen to the ground. When he turned to look at her quizzically, she had an impish grin on her face. “In the words of the great Edna Mode, ‘no capes!’”

Despite himself, he couldn’t help but chuckle at her antics, even if said antics made perfect sense when he was about to fly into a black hole. “Okay, okay. I get it. No capes.” He grew serious again, sending her a meaningful look. “But you’d better run away, you hear me?”

“I will.”

With that they both turned their backs on each other, about to run off in different directions when Sam had the sudden urge to call out to him over her shoulder. “Oh, and Phantom?” He raised a questioning brow. “Please, be careful.”

Her request rendering him speechless, Danny limited himself to nodding before he took off in the direction of the massive swirl of energy.

Ghostly black holes were formed when two ancient lairs came into contact with each other, resulting in enormous amounts of uncontrollable ecto-energy. The usual protocol was to evacuate the areas near the decaying lairs and destroy at least one of them before disaster happened.

That was what he meant to do the other day before his encounter with Valerie forced him to spend the remainder of the day resting before going out with Jazz. By the time he felt better, he’d already forgotten all about it. Which meant he now needed to take desperate measures.

A black hole’s traction power didn’t come from its Singularity, but from its Event Horizon. In other words, it came from the swirling mass of matter surrounding it. Considering this was a rotating black hole, the Penrose Process was his safest bet. He turned himself intangible, in hopes of not being pulled into due to his lack of body mass, and flew straight to the celestial body’s Ergosphere; a region of rotating space-time around the hole.

Once inside, Danny didn’t waste a second to rev up until he’d reached his top speed, which he could only hope was enough, as he began moving counterclockwiseーthe opposite direction the black hole was rotating in.

After what felt like hours, Danny could feel his face light up in triumph when he registered the way the hole seemed to come to a halt. That was all he needed. With renewed vigour, the halfa pushed himself a little further, breaking his personal record, and forced the massive source of matter to follow his course. Only this time, rather than increase in size, it shrank ever so slowly.

Unfortunately, Danny was so caught up in the process he failed to see the side effect his plan was having on the black hole. With one last display of strength, it began to pull once more, except now the halfa had no place to go. Panicking, but knowing he couldn’t get away or all his efforts would be for naught, Danny resigned himself to his fate.

“Conjunctionis ligaveris!”

“Huh?” His brow furrowing in confusion at the sudden cry, his eyes soon widened in disbelief when he felt something wrap around his ankles and tug at him and away from the black hole.

Glancing down at his feet, he noticed the sparkly, purple, rope-like construction tied tightly around him. Trailing the rope to its origins, he gasped when he saw it was Lady Arcana who was holding onto it for dear life.

Did she just save him?

Finally, due to Danny’s ministrations, the colossal swirling void of darkness began to curl in on itself. Then, with a deafening sound, the black hole imploded in a burst of blinding light, forcing Danny to cover his tortured ears, and Sam to shield her violet eyes. Both of them holding tight with the remnants of strength they had left onto the witch’s improvised rope.

After what felt like hours, her ears still ringing, the queen lowered her arm from her face. She blinked repeatedly, willing the dark spots filling her vision to vanish. With her vision cleared, she gasped, frantically looking around in search of Phantom.

A voice behind her made her jump forward a few steps. “How did you do that?”

Whirling around, she couldn’t help but let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding when she saw the Ghost King looking at her. Although he looked far more surprised than she expected. “Do what?”

“You…”, he started. It just didn’t make any sense! “You grabbed me!”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke again. “...yeah, so?”

“You grabbed me and I was intangible!” He threw his arms up in the air, his mind still coming to terms with what'd just happened.

Realisation finally dawned on Sam. “Oh, you’re right. By definition, I shouldn’t have been able to touch you…” She trailed off.

“Well,” he pressed, “how did you?”

“I honestly don’t know.” She shrugged as she noticed the rope still tied to Phantom’s ankle, before willing it to disappear. “I just saw you in trouble and I knew I had to do something. I wasn’t really thinking when I did it, I just...did.”

She saw him mumble something unintelligible before his bright eyes lay on her, hard. She should’ve known this was coming, “Look, I know I said I’d run away. But, as I said, I saw you in trouble and I had to act! So there’s no need for you to lecture me about it. What’s done is done.”

“Actually,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous smile on his face. “I’m kinda glad you didn’t listen to me.”

Starting at his words, the two made eye contact. As she gazed, once again, upon his grateful eyes, his expression full of sincerity, she couldn’t keep her own smile from forming in her face. As they stood there, both royals could only think that, if they could work together to stop an infinite swirl of darkness, even trusting the other with their lives, then they should be able to work together to put an end to the crisis threatening their worlds.

#danny phantom #dp #dp fanfic #my fic #your heart #danny fenton #sam manson #ember mclain #johnny/kitty #johnny 13 #kitty #oc #amethyst ocean #danny x sam #ghost king! danny #ghost king au #witch queen! sam #witch queen au #enemies to friends to lovers

23 notes · View notes

goldenchan-fx2thepeacock · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Go Running Off Into Danger, Even If I Do pt 3

Hek. I woke up today and found that my FNP phic has 41 notes and my DGROIDEIID phic is gaining attention and reblogs; holy shit. And I woke up at noon. It’s Saturday. I sleep in on such days. Anyways. Last I checked, Val and Danny were gonna go get Dani, but we need some Dip and Mabs action cause I forgot last night. I will probably develop an uploading schedule later. For now, just have random updates. I might even make a side blog for this shit.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 3

Dipper stood off in the background as Danny got into an argument with a dracula ghost. By the amount of times he heard Plasmius, this must’ve been Vlad. Danny looked pissed when he finished. He still took Dipper and Mabel to their classes, but when they tried to find him at lunch, he was absent. “I wonder where he is?” Mabel pondered. “I’m sure he just had something to do,” Dipper replied. Some guy walked up to their table. “Hey, you’re the kids Fenton is touring. Listen, he’s Phantom and I have proof!” “And you are?” Mabel said patiently. “Wes Weston. Listen, you gotta believe me!” “We legit just moved here, we have no clue what you’re talking about. Leave us alone,” Dipper said. Wes looked taken aback. “Fine! Fenton better worry. I will expose him. I just need more proof,” Wes stalked off. Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look. “Should we be worried?” He asked Mabel. “He seems to have it under control,”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Danny stared off into the daylight as they flew. Val set down. “Come on. She’s fine. Why are you losing it?” “Just a certain Wisconsin Ghost told me about you keeping her,” “Vlad?” “Wait, you know?” “I’ve known since I met Dani,” “Jeez. I’ve known since I met the guy during my parents college reunion. I’m still pissed at him for that whole invisble wall fiasco,” “That was him?” “Yeah. I mean, I started it, but he kept trying to get in my mom’s pants. I needed to put him down a peg,” “You made his wall invisble!?” “Yeah. But it’s not like being naked on camera is going to tell the public any secrets,” “I’m confused. Why do care so much?” “It’s nothing,” Danny grunted. They were headed to the basement. “It seems to be something,” “I have things I’d prefer not to reveal to the entire school,” “No one saw your dick. You managed to catch it in time,” Val was confused. Danny laughed. “Hey Val. Why would a guy have a female clone? Oh right. I forgot to tell you. Dani is more or less my clone because Vlad was being extra creepy,” “Weird. So she isn’t your cousin. Wait. OH MY GOD! Danny, I understand completely. If Dash knew, you’d be dead meat,” Val caught on quickly. Danny couldn’t but laugh at the dead meat. “Hey! What’s funny?” “I am dead meat Val!” “I’m an idiot. Anyways, we’re here,” She opened the basement door. Dani was sitting on the couch. “Danny? Val? What’re you guys doing here. Shit, sorry Danny,” “It’s fine. She knows,” “Who else knows anyways?” Val said. “You, Jazz, Tucker, Sam and literally all the ghosts,” “Vlad included?” “Vlad included,” “And Amity Park can’t connect the dots?” “No one knows Danny Phantom has a human life. I’d be seriously pissed if someone told the general public,” “That’s fair. Anyways. We’re here because a certain Dracula cosplayer told Danny you were in danger,” Val said. Danny snorted. “Dracula cosplayer? I have to use that on him,” “Why would anyone think that’s a good look?” “My ‘dad’,” Dani said. Thus causing both her and Danny to break out in laughter. “Where does the whole cousin thing come in?” Val asked. “My ‘Unkie Vlad’. It’s his way of making me family,” “Unkie?” Val looked lost. “I like being a little bitch to him,” “He deserves it! You should expose him,” “If I expose Plasmius, Masters exposes Phantom,” “Oh jeez,” “And there is a very good reason not to expose Phantom. And they wear way too much white,” Dani said quietly. “I’d prefer not to get dissected,” Danny said haughtily. “They already want to,” Val made a noise of disgust. “How could anyone with a set of morals do that?” “Heh. I’m a ghost. Not really real to most of the world. I don’t have feelings. Don’t feel pain,” Danny repeated what the ghost hunters had told him way too many times. “That sounds awful, but we should get back to school. Cya Dani!” Val waved and put on her helmet. “Hey, wanna leave the quick way?” “What do you mea- AAAAAAAH!” Val screamed as Danny made them both go intangible and up through the roof. “Never. Do that again,” “Hey, at least you didn’t end up going through the table and random floors and get banned from handling anything fragile,” “I’m confused,” “When these powers first came in, I was stuck dropping everything. From my pants to beakers,” “Oh jeez. So, why aren’t nerd and nerdette with you?” “Tucker had to go see a doctor out of town and Sam’s mom took her to this convention thing. They’ll be back tomorrow,” “No comment on the nicknames?” “They’ve been called worse,” Danny shrugged. “And I’ve been shoved in way too many lockers to care,” “I have one last question. Why on earth would you try to date me when I was trying to kill you? And why did you destroy the suit when I could’ve been inside?” “That’s two questions. But Fenton and Phantom needed a distinction, and I knew you weren’t inside. Technus was controlling the suit,” “You are a mystery,” “I’d like to keep it that way,” “You won’t tell anyone my secret if I don’t tell anyone both of yours?” “That makes it sound like you’re going to tell one of them,” “That’s not what I meant,” “We need to come up with an excuse as to why The Red Huntress suddenly has a truce with Phantom,” “Later. I need coffee,” “I couldn’t agree more,” The plume of blue air showed up. “OH COME ON!” “What,” “I have to deal with something,” Danny sped off.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dipper and Mabel looked at the chaos in the caf. “Students! Hide under tables! Ghost Hunters and/or Phantom will be here soon,” Mr Lancer yelled into a megaphone. “Already here!” Someone yelled. A flash of white said Phantom. There was blue ghost throwing boxes around. “I am the BOX GHOST!” It yelled. “Yeah, we know. Just say it already,” “I will win this fight with boxes of... spoons! BEWARE!” “Don’t you know not to bring a spoon to a knife fight?” “You do not have a knife!” “No, but I do have a thermos!” Phantom pulled out a green and grey thermos and flipped the lid. “I will not stay in your cylindrical object!” “Looks like you’re gonna have to,” Phantom pressed a button and a beam of light came out of the thermos and sucked the Box Ghost inside. “Is everyone okay?” Kids pushed out from under the tables. “Phantom! Will you sign my book?” Dash said. This must be a cruel joke. “Ghost boy! The Fenton Peeler is back in action,” “Whoops, gotta go!” Phantom dashed off as Jack and Maddie Fenton came rushing in. “Darn it. Missed him again,” They ran off. Danny walked into the caf and ran over to them. “You guys are lucky that your first ghost attack was the Box Ghost. Harmless,” “Doesn’t look very harmless to me! That’s gotta’ve been at least a level 5,” Dipper opened the journal. “Nah. Box is a solid 2. Hardly a step up from an ectopus. Might get concerned if Desiree shows up. She’s a level 5,” “What’re you?” “We more or less tested it. Pretty sure I’m a 7,” “That means they aren’t a big concern to you most days,” “Mmm. King Pariah was a level 10. That was terrifying. Vlad’s an 8. Convinced he’s a 9,” “Okay,” “Skulker gets to be a 6 on a technicality. Without the suit, he’s a 1. He can be an 8 on a bad day. I think Frostbite is a 9. He won’t bother you guys though. Dan must’ve been a 9, but I’m not going into that. Technus is an 8, but can be a 10 if he gets his hands on the right tech. Clockwork is an 11, which technically doesn’t exsist, but Clockwork breaks the mold. He won’t bother you unless you end up destroying the world in the future,” Danny shivered. “Who’s Dan?” Mabel looked confused. “Nobody. Just a horrible way to learn not to cheat on tests,” Danny shivered again. “But that’s not important. I didn’t cheat on the CAT,” “Your life seems more hectic than Gravity Falls sometimes,” Dipper said. “Where is that? I’ve never heard of it,” “Oregan. Never Mind All That,” He knew the rules. “You know, the way you say that is kinda creepy,” “We’d be breaking the law if we told you why,” “Jesus. Well, it’s not like we’ll get another Pariah unless an idiot thinks it’s a good idea. He’ll never get his hands on the crown of Fire,” “Time Out,” Dipper and Mabel looked around. “Umm, CW, why aren’t they out with everyone else?” “They’ve met Cipher. At this point, I cannot pause time for them,” “Eh, whatever. Mason, Mabel, this is Clockwork. What’d you need?” “I actually came to speak to you about the Crown of Fire. In defeating Pariah, you gained ownership,” “I, uh, did what now?” “Gained ownership of the Crown. Though in your case, it would be the Crown of Ice,” Clockwork repeated. Danny looked lost. “I don’t need to be the King of the Ghost Zone,” “Someone must take the place. It’s your duty,” Danny looked like he was about to have a full on panic attack. “Can it wait?” “Two years is a long wait as is,” “B-but it went thousands of years before!” “Because they failed to remove the crown and it wasn’t a singular person,” “What’s two years in the Ghost Zone? As far as I’m concerned, that doesn’t seem like a long time. Walker was gonna give me a thousand year prison sentence,” “You get some time, but I’ll tell you, if you take the crown, the Ghost Zone enters an era of peace unprecedented,” “Danny, what’s happening,” Mabel asked. Danny snapped and started hyperventilating. “I can’t. No. Why? I just wanted to keep the world safe! Is that too much to ask?” “Daniel, you do get time to think about it. Just remember, time can pass however fast or slow I want it too,” “Right, of course. Cya CW,” “Time In,”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Danny trudged home. Exhaustion and anxiety gripped him. Mason and Mabel had been concerned, but he wasn’t about to explain everything. He’d talk to Sam and Tucker tomorrow. It didn’t help that he’d had gym after lunch. At least there wasn’t any more disappearing walls. “Danny! How was school?” Mom asked as he walked in the door. “Great!” Danny said and rushed upstairs. He’d deal with The Box Ghost in a minute. Jazz stood in his doorway. She didn’t know about Dan, but she did know about Pariah. “Danny, is everything okay?” “No, everything is not okay!” “What happened? Is it Dash again? We should report him,” “It’s not just that. You remember the Pariah incident?” “Yeah, you don’t just forget that,” “Well, turns out that by beating him, I ‘gained ownership’ to the crown,” “That doesn’t sound bad exactly,” “It’s horrible!” “How?” “I just wanna be a kid, ya know? It’s hard enough living a double life, but ruling the Ghost Zone? I’d have no chance to do anything remotely useful in the human world,” “You wouldn’t need to. If you ruled the Ghost Zone, ghosts wouldn’t come here anymore,” “The King can’t enforce rules in the Human World. It’s just scary,”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aight, that’s a chapter, I guess. The ideas tend to come from random places, and my brain is running out of ideas. I need to do another “planning session” which is coming up with scenarios in my head to make sure they make sense.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #maddie fenton #jack fenton #dipper pines #mabel pines #clockwork #crown of fire #gravity falls #crossover #trans!danny #trans!dipper #dash baxter #valerie gray #danielle (dani) phantom #bill cipher (mentioned)

22 notes · View notes

phantomphangphucker · 6 years ago

Text

The Setting Of A Blue Green Sun - DannyMay Day 5: Sunset

A setting sun, or sunset, is a euphemism for death.

Summary: There were many different timelines for Daniel that ClockWork didn’t care for, but this one was one he needed to watch. And so he did, over and over again. Because the master of time spent so much time alone, and this timeline shows the catastrophic end result of being all alone.

Warning: angst, depression, loneliness, gore, blood, breaking bones, character death, hurt without comfort.

ClockWork sees all the paths life might and might not take, and this is one he feels particularly saddened by. The one where Daniel was alone and always would be. No one was there when he half-died, no one was there to accidentally see him transform, and no one was there to keep him grounded. Sure there was no evil future to be found, whether that was because he was disconnected or because there wasn’t any future at all. ClockWork would fist fight Dan himself over sitting by idle at this once possible reality for his charge.

ClockWork only watches it to remind him that he needs Daniel, more than Daniel needs him. To never ignore his friendship and mentorship to the halfa. So that this master of time will never be alone, because even he needs others company. And who better than a halfa who’s more of an embodiment of the sun and all the stars, than a single person. Grand friends for grander beings, though his Daniel was far too humble to call himself such. But things like them, in truth, needed something similar for a friend. Watching the screen only highlights this so, with how it makes it oh so clear that even this celestial child crumbles and falls, without a friendly face around.

Watching Daniel take hit after hit, limp in form and blank-faced. It’s almost as if no one’s even home, numb.

Watching all the papers label him as the strong and silent type, ClockWork knows it’s not strength; but rather that there’s no one to laugh at his jokes. So why bother telling them.

Just like how there’s no one to fuss over his wounds, so why fix them. How he rarely sees his family, so there was no one to lie to. How he spent so much more time as a ghost and seemed to consider himself nothing more, after all there was no one to remind him that he was human too. ClockWork can’t help but frown at the boys uncared for body, he didn’t have anyone to keep up appearances for. Clearly underweight, with bones jutting where they shouldn’t in clothing rarely washed and torn.

What’s worse is watching him actively push away any attempts to get near him, he doesn’t know that anyone could actually survive the collateral of being his friend or lover; so he doesn’t let anyone be either one.

Then there’s how it affects everyone else, The Red Huntress, so much more cruel and relentless. Having never known Daniels’ kindness or affection. This turned out so catastrophic for little Danielle, she was never saved. And Daniel didn’t even mourn, he just nodded, as if this was the only possible expected outcome for him, and left. He continued his ways with only a deepened frown to show of the loss.

The Fenton parents, though worried, feared pushing their son away even further; the fact that he’d flinch at their every touch or slightly raised voice didn’t help. He behaved like a paranoid animal knowing it was in a slaughterhouse, because to him his house was more of a death trap than a home. And while the skies were taking the place of home to him, his family grew strained. Jasmine, resentful and failing to get her brother to let her in, instead chose to help herself. Leaving for Yale as soon as it was possible for her, what solidified her decision was that it took Daniel three days to even text her. Because he hadn’t even noticed, not at home enough to pick up on the absence.

Then there was Vlad, who’s reaction ClockWork still struggled to understand. Where once he wanted Daniel and actively engaged with him, he now seemed put off and even disturbed by Daniel. Becoming even more aggressive in cloning rather than claiming, Daniel.

The negatives on the ghost zone where far too numeral. Without his wit and carefree nature, he never rubbed off well on other ghosts. In this time, none came to him for advice or friendly sparring. Only to threaten and harm, and they were much more eager to harm.

The halfas two friends where really the only ones to fair well. Though their friendship with Daniel became so thin it was near nonexistent, they were indeed safe and happy. Sometimes they missed their friend but they never faced any hardships. In a sense Daniel was right, anyone close to him would suffer.

With a sigh, ClockWork shakes his head sadly, even he knows that suffering isn’t something to be feared. Better to suffer and gain, than to never know it in the name of fleeting safety. And for every person spared from believed collateral damage, young Daniel was left to absorb the blow; alone.

And that’s exactly what he was doing right now, taking a hit from the ghost kings skeletons. Unlike in nearly every other timeline, he comes unaided. He’s got no suit and the ghosts see no reason to aid him, so he’s left to push through armies alone.

That’s one thing ClockWork will give this timelines Daniel, he’s a lot stronger in battle. He’s more skilled in his powers and physically more capable. But that’s what happens when there’s no one to help take the hits or play doctor. That’s what happens when you don’t have anything but free time to train, because there’s no one to keep you company; to distract you with trivial things.

ClockWork glances and smiles fondly at the chess board, the one that he’s played against his apprentice so many times on, ClockWork always felt lighter afterwards.

Distractions really are a life necessity, else you get obsessed with everything else. ClockWork can see the effect of that in Daniels’ heightened paranoia, in his intense mistrust, and in the blatantly excessive and sleep depriving patrolling. What started as a necessary duty became a compulsively unending routine. Having never been stalled by movie nights or friend drama.

Turning back to the screen, he watches the battered halfa stand to face the king. ClockWork understands the impressed expression Pariah barely hides, Daniel is always so much more powerful than he knows. And even ClockWork can clearly see the power blazing in him through the screen, as if every sun had collided in one body; with the sole purpose of bringing forth the brightest shining being imaginable.

But even still the child’s body twitched with exhaustion, limbs merely hung limp; not caring to put on the show of a fighting stance. It was clear he expected to get hurt, tossed around and thrashed, he just couldn’t bring himself to really care. He’d bare it like always and get up. ClockWork frowns, as he knows that won’t be the case.

He would cringe at the sight of his apprentice's leg getting snapped under the pressure of a column, if he hadn’t long since learned to perpetually school unintentional outward behaviours. Impressively though, as the fight goes on, he still finds himself in mild awe at such undeniable proof that Daniel was the stronger of the two. Even without any power-ups and after slogging through hordes, he beats down the king through sheer determination and might.

But his body is run ragged, and his mind has long since been in that state; as he wails his fist down on the, shocked but resigned, king. Ultimately destroying the king before collapsing to the ground himself, bleeding out his unique red green sunlight glowing blood; across the tiled flooring.

This is another show of just how much power is in such a tiny body, as ClockWork can plainly see the waves of ectoplasmic energy coming off of him, trying to latch on to any latent ectoplasm in the air, to keep its host alive. But unfortunately, this is Pariah’s keep. No ghosts linger here and even the zones energy avoids this place. Leaving nothing for the boy to cling to and feed off of.

ClockWork watches heavily as his young charge, his little apprentice; seems to understand the situation. Muttering into the tiles with a faint chuckle, “oh... well then. I guess... this is a fitting place to just die”. The young boy doesn’t even seem sad, nor happy or even surprised. Like everything else he just accepts it and takes the blow; completely alone.

And ClockWork can tell, from looking into young Daniel’s eyes through the screen. That the sun of light was setting inside him, in no uncertain terms, was this a battered hero’s sunset. The end of a protectors endlessly watching sunlight. As the little saviour, a brutalised blue green sun, finally fell from the skies to rest unseen forever more.

And the night air after his lights fall was nothing but cold, the cold of ice covering everything from a far too powerful and far too ravaged core of ice. Ice that had cracked and shattered too many times to count, that eventually couldn’t contain or support the brightest sun anymore; and had simply exploded outwards.

On all his watch throughs, ClockWork finds he can never not whisper-sing to the screen at this point. To the sight of the shredded hemorrhaging sun that never last long enough to ever met the master of time, partly hoping his soft words were heard:

“Please allow your mind to be pacified

Just rest and your pain will be blown away

Let your worries be placed aside

No one can hurt you now

But know all that you’ve accomplished

Let yourself take a bow

Please calm your heart

Just close your eyes, leave the battlefield behind

Let your heartache break apart

But grant you to know, you never had to fight your battles alone”

ClockWork switches off the screen as the sight of the partially dissolved corpse finally stills its leaking glow of blue green sunlight, though it still paints everything around it in a red and green Collide-a-scope of a half-life barely lived. Of a sun cast down when it should have risen to blaze, the strongest to ever be seen.

ClockWork turns to another image, the one of the most likely future. Not just likely but near certainly. One where he is needed as mentor no more, though he knows he’ll always play the role. As his now, not so small, halfa sits atop his throne. His laughter-filled blue green sunlight eyes looking out across ghosts and humans as well. As comforting blue green blazing sunlight of pure energy and power waves off him, to watch over the lands. Earth and zone alike, for he is both and he is not alone; and ClockWork swears he’ll never let him be.

And in that promise, so too will ClockWork himself never be alone. As his charge, a massive sun contained inside a tiny impossible body, had sworn the same thing. And he always kept his promises.

End.

45 notes · View notes

currentlylurking · 7 years ago

Text

anxiety hasn’t kicked my ass about this yet so rambling about how a d&d campaign where you play as the ancients vs pariah could work

or a fate campaign. fate might work better.

Or pathfinder. I have all the pathfinder books- but I also have most of the D&D 5e books- and they have an official gunslinger class. I’ve just never done anything with pathfinder so I have like. half a clue how it works.

sticking with d&d for the moment bc most of my knowledge about fate comes from the good old mcelroys and they’re. not the best example.

rambling stream of consciousness ahead, if it. if it wasn’t super obvious.

okay so: I have the dp ghost race habato and I made a while ago, but it’s a bit... unbalanced. and I need to fix that. I think the idea I have for the dp ghosts would work better as a class, but that provides one of the same problems that I have with it as a race; there’s not enough diversity

a party of an elf ranger, dwarf cleric, tabaxi rogue, and dragonborn fighter is so much better than one of a phantom ranger/cleric/rogue/fighter or an elf + dwarf + tabaxi + dragonborn phantom set. everyone could multiclass, I guess, but having to decide whether to level up your ghost powers or your other skills is pretty :/ and why I went with it as a race originally.

also what does it have to offer as a class besides ghost powers?? those aren’t special. they’re kinda special. not special enough to be their own class.

maybe it could be an additional thing? like you’re a ranger but you’re ALSO a phantom!! it doesn’t give you any specific bonuses other than ghost powers and flight but it could be set up like a class still. you’d just level it up as you level up, instead of having to choose between that and your other skill set

main problem there is what I’m thinking of isn’t actually a thing and holy shit do I suck at explanations. if I homebrew an entirely new element on my own I’ll confuse the shit out of everyone

another option: it’s a feat. but then you don’t get to get stronger as you level up, which is. upsetting. that’s the fun part.

you could gain skills at certain points as you grow as a ghost? like ‘ah yes, you’re in danger, now you can fly!’ or maybe when you act on your obsession a certain number of times you go stronger--

that one’s actually really good I might use it

but the ghosts in general. or phantoms as the race is called. what kind of powers should they have? thinking flight, and either what I have in the races where they get a power based on their core (inspired by the dragonborn’s breath weapon) or they could get a certain selection of spells they can cast a couple times a day? and the types of spells change depending on their core?

maybe it’s a choice. you can have the best of both worlds you just have to pick one when you level up- oh!! that’s what you can choose with the class option, instead of leveling up your stats you can level up a ghost power!!

races can be what kind of ghost you are, appearance-wise. like, ghostwriter’s an elf (drow? drow seem like they don’t go outside and so does he). Pariah’s either a goliath or a duergar (they can cast enlarge on themselves!!), danny’s a half elf. poor boy doesn’t even get to be human he’s still a halfa.

this also means that if you’re playing as a tabaxi you died and turned into a cat which is fucking hilarious. if you’re a kenku you’re a literal shitty bird person. you died and became a bird that can’t even speak normally. it’s great.

if you’re a gnome or halfling you died and shrunk.or you really liked the hobbit.

ideally you would like. have a race that reflects your death somehow. but I don’t super know what the plotline will be yet so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ maybe not that

I also think death wounds/stuff relating to that would be cool. like if someone rolls a natural 20 against you they hit the scars of the wound that killed you and it fucks you up. stuff related to your death also fucks you up. lots of stuff can fuck you up. blood blossoms can kick your ass.

we could also use this fantasy disabilities chart bc messing your character up is fun

obsessions are a thing too. Like, say your obsession is your family, and you learn that your brother’s a ghost- you’ve got to drop everything to go check in with your brother!! maybe wisdom save to do stuff that doesn’t get you closer to your target (once activated? by... some shit? it can’t always be on), and advantage on rolls directly involving it? idk. that might be too weird.

if something happens that shatters your obsession you either die or get royally fucked up.

I like making things overtly complicated I guess meanwhile in my main campaign I keep forgetting how the barbarian’s rage works and fUCKING IT UP

idk how clerics would work, either. probably worship vague concepts? either that or there’s a cleric of clockwork and I bet he’d fucking love that.

maybe vecna’s a ghost someone can worship... I love me some vecna

also warlocks. same boat. someone could be a warlock of the observants and get true seeing at some point far too early on. that’d be a mess. I love it. I’d have to homebrew it.

hooooooly shit someone can be a warlock of PARIAH. or pariah’s a warlock of something? vecna? probably not vecna.

OH HOLY SHIT!! a warlock of Clockwork would be a normal-ass ghost with time powers. hot damn Timekeepers can be used here. I’d have to homebrew that too.

shit.

anyone wanting to play ranger would probably have to use the unearthed arcana version of them bc the official version is like. bad early on.

a druid would be a literal shapeshifter, or vortex maybe. that’d be neat. a bard would be Ember. Ghostwriter’s enough of a nerd to be a wizard.

the fentons are gunslingers and using Matt Mercer’s stats for that bc I really love how it works in critical role. everything about it is good.

I don’t know gunslingers would work with this point in time but also like. yknow. I like them. maybe it’s a time travel thing.

probably shouldn’t do a time travel thing.

probably shouldn’t also do the ‘random gun, one bullet, does massive amount of damage bc let’s be real. it’s a gun.’

there are a lot of possible plot hooks to start off, with two main options for what the ‘end goal’ can be- join the ancients or become the ancients.

or defect and join Pariah. follow ur dreams.

but like, from the start to get the party together

you could die.

you could wake up dead all together and not know what tf is happening. who is this tall asshole. why does he have skeletons.

yall could be in a village, which is a thing, for plot reasons, when suddenly pariah attacks

one of the ancients gives a really moving speech and the party all decides to join up

best of the last two or something

pariah stole some of everyone’s shit. how dare he. everyone decides to kick his ass.

everyone actually works for pariah and defects via the... the power of friendship? yeah that seems right

everyone is forced to work for pariah and is saved by the power of friendship (x2)

you’re in a tavern. there’s a revolution brewing. this is normal dnd shit literally every game I’ve played in but one has started in a tavern please save me they’re everywhere.

this rag-tag group of fucks gets pulled into a general plot hook. guarding a caravan or some shit. tavern 2.0. summoned by the king- that one might work actually.

there’s probably more but it’s almost midnight

there’s also an option for this that I haven’t touched on but like. I could... not use dp ghosts. could just use pariah and the ancients and go from there, or Pariah could’ve forced everyone into these powerless roles... but I’m Not About That Life tbh. I want as much fun nerd shit at once as I can have.

I’m gonna figure out the ghost powers instead of sleeping at a normal time or wrapping presents like I should. this is what I do after finals yall. I made 4 batches of cookies earlier and they’re all amazing.

I think that’s most of what I wanted to say. if not there’ll be more of these rambles. unless anxiety beats my ass there probably will be lmao.

I’ll let yall know when I figure shit out but if you’re interested in being a part of this then like. tell me. it’ll be fun.

#dp dnd #the fact that I already had a tag for this says a lot about me lmao #currently talking #not putting it in the Danny Phantom tag this time but I'll probably reblog it again in the morning #bc I seem to be posting a lot of stuff at ass o'clock at night

2 notes · View notes

zonerobotnik · 7 years ago

Note

20, Ghost King Clockwork AU, Canon Trio and Clockwork

(As discussed over IM, It’s Clockwork and Skulker instead.)20. When’s the last time you smiled?- Ghost King Clockwork AU-Clockwork looked over thehumans in the large greenhouse gathering place, frowning a bit. Danhad been bringing Danny to meet the other two more and more oftenlately. What was that fool doing? He was getting caught up insentimentalities.“Clockwork. Got a moment?” Clockworklooked over to see Skulker stepping into his Clocktower.“Skulker.”Clockwork floated away from the screens he was watching to approachhim. “You seem well.”“And you seem like you're carryingtoo heavy a weight.” Skulker frowned. “When’s the last time yousmiled?”Clockwork sighed and adjusted his crown. “It canget...heavy. This burden...but, I had to do it. The humans and ghostsalike...another war was brewing, I had to step in!”“Iknow.” Skulker sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Takeoff the crown, Clockwork. Just for a little bit. It's only you and mehere.”Clockwork sighed and looked him over. “It's a shamethat you have to recreate yourself through robotic parts. Icould...fix that for you? Perhaps even bring you back tolife?”“Ember would be pissed.” Skulker chuckled.“Besides, what would happen to my lair? But...I'll consider yourfirst offer. But first, take off the crown. Take a load off.” Hereached up to the crown.“Please, don't. I have to be theone to remove it.” Clockwork gripped his wrist.“Right,sorry.” Skulker moved his hand back and Clockwork released it. “Yousurprised everyone, you know. You've been a recluse for twenty-fiveyears and now this?”Clockwork took off the crown andvisibly relaxed before smiling a bit. “Yes...it...wasn't an easychoice. Were my brother alive, I surely would've suggested he do itinstead. He was always stronger. He could manipulate anything thathad form, human or ghost. He would not have needed Pariah Dark'spower...”“Why did you do that to Phantom?” Skulkerasked. “If you'd told him the truth, told him of what was coming,he would've helped you.”“And he would have died.”Clockwork said, gripping his staff tightly. “He would've beencaptured and experimented on and enslaved and abused like the halfasthat came before him and in the end they would have killed him oncehe was no longer of use to them. This...was the only way I could savehim.” He looked at the crown in his shaking hand, then looked up atSkulker when his hand metallic hand wrapped around Clockwork'sgently. “Does Jack even know that it's you?”“No. Andit's better that he doesn't. It's bad enough his college friend is ahalf-ghost, but to find out I'm a ghost, and I've been terrorizinghis son for years? He'd be devastated.” Skulker shook his head.“That's why I didn't jump on your offer right away. Like this...hedoesn't recognize me.”“Even though it looks like you buta robot.” Clockwork snerked. “Jack is truly just as dense as he'salways been.”Skulker looked towards the screens. “Howlong do you think they can keep up the lies? Sooner or later, thehumans will figure out something's odd. Everyone has lost theirmemories up to a certain point, isn't that weird? The other ghostsare playing along, but what if someone slips up?”Clockworksighed. “Yes...it is true that this...utopia is a fragile one.Sooner or later...I will have to battle the true Ghost King. Puttinghim out of the way will only work for so long, and he grows strongerby the day as he learns to remaster his powers. And when heremembers...I fear what will happen when he remembers. What kind ofperson he will become.”“Not to mention the missinghumans.” Skulker nodded. “They'll show up sooner or later andthey'll see that they aren't dead after all.”Clockworkgripped his staff tighter, pursing his lips. “...I think I knowwhere they are hiding. And I can't do anything about it.”“Where?”Skulker asked.“They are with my brother, Ghostwriter.That's the only place in all of Time that I can not see.” Clockworknarrowed his eyes. “And the time may come that he will battle me,one on one. Powerless, save for our fists and physical weapons. Onlyonce I defeat him, can I ensure that the rebels are taken careof.”“Ghostwriter hasn't been involved with anything sinceyour younger brother died.” Skulker said, shrugging. “Why wouldhe bother to step in now?”“I don't know. But it's theonly thing I can think of.” Clockwork admitted, walking over andsitting on a couch, setting the crown on a coffee table.Skulkerwalked over and sat next to him. “You're tired, stressed out, andparanoid. Try taking the crown off for a few hours a day, it'll dowonders. Ever wonder why Pariah Dark never smiled?” He placed hishand on Clockwork's.Clockwork chuckled softly. “I supposeyou are right. I will try to relax a little. Thank you,Nikolas.”Skulker shifted a bit. “No one's called me thatin years.”“Our little secret.” Clockwork smiled andconjured up some tea.End

#danny phantom #clockwork #skulker #ghost king clockwork au #writing prompts3 #the plot THICKENS!#blankrslate07

6 notes · View notes

gearsforyears · 8 years ago

Note

Writing Prompt Request: Can you do one with both Danny and Clockwork fighting against Dan Phantom and trying to entrap him inside his Thermos prison?

Took me awhile to finally figure out where I wanted this to end; I hope it meets your standards!

It was hard enough to see once again that horrible amalgamation that was Dan Phantom, but Danny had thought it was all over. He had already defeated the evil future head on before, but apparently just stuffing him in the thermos once wasn’t good enough.

Clockwork tried to predict it, but found he couldn’t know when Dan would break out, only that he would break out. The ghost of time had quickly realized that because Dan wasn’t in his proper timeline, and shouldn’t exist, but did, he was a paradox created by time itself. The dark version of our beloved hero existed outside of time, where he couldn’t be seen, heard, or touched, not even by the master of time himself.

It led them to this moment, with a third of the Ghost Zone in ruins, ghosts either fleeing to their sister realm or being erased by the paradox himself. Whatever the ghosts did now didn’t matter to Danny Phantom much anymore; if he could, he would hide along with them. He needed to capture him in his enhanced metal prison yet again, but he was grateful for the help that he was being given.

His enemies had all rallied against Dan, but Danny couldn’t stand to see them be erased in front of him and had told them to try and protect earth from falling apart. Mirror realms were complicated things, but it was simple enough for Danny to understand that if something was destroyed here, something of equal value must be destroyed in the Human Zone. He had already almost lost his parents all over again because of this madness.

Dan figured out quickly that he was a paradox, and was now able to kill Danny if he wanted to. Some of Clockwork’s main attacks didn’t work on the ghost, but the two of them were trying their best to finally end the fight.

Danny held the strap of the thermos close to his chest, not letting go for a second as he and his mentor flew deeper into the carnage of the Ghost Zone. The halfa was barely an adult, having his eighteenth birthday last week. He thought that if he died it would suck, seeing as he’s only been an adult for five days. But what would happen to the Zones if they failed now? Would Dan want to control both of the Zones, or would he destroy them? His family would surely mourn him, but with little time they’d have left after Danny’d die, they’d probably not even realize he was dead. Dan worked quickly, efficiently, and destructively. The Zones don’t stand a chance against the ghost.

A hard metal smack on the back of his head took the halfa out of his musings, and Danny let go of the strap on his chest to rub his snow white hair. He curiously looked over to see a scowl on Clockwork’s face directed at him, “Stop thinking so negatively. We’ll win this fight.”

“You see,” Danny snidely remarked, “If you had told me that during the fight with Pariah Dark, I’d have believed you. Now? With a guy out of your ‘timey vision’ stuff? I’m not so sure.” The half ghost fiddled with the ends of his hands, his mind wondering off again to his next battle.

Clockwork frowned at the pessimistic side of Danny, but knew he could not fault the younger ghost. He himself was worried about the outcome of the battle, and somehow wasn’t able to see passed a few hours from then. It confused him, but he knew that Danny was stronger than he was years ago when they had met. Clockwork himself trained the halfa, and the time ghost shook off his worries, “You have become stronger than he ever was. I have no doubt in you that we will be victorious.”

“Was being the operative word,” Danny grumbled, thinking back to what a stray ghost had relayed for him earlier, “Dan has a much different appetite than the last time we had seen him, Clockwork.”

“I know.” the ghost sighed, clutching the scepter closer to his chest. A shiver ran through him as the horrid image came to mind, “Once a ghost tastes their first core, there isn’t much they can do to stop the addiction to power besides a strong will, which for power, Dan does not have.”

Danny felt a shiver run through his system. He remembered seeing his first ghost that was decimated by Dan in this way. The overalls were covered in green blood, ectoplasm, and the glowing liquid floated around the area of the shell that the Box Ghost once was. His chest was caved in, and the glow of his aura was gone. As much as Danny thought of the Box Ghost as an annoyance, he never wished that upon him.

The next was Lunch Lady. Then Ember. A few of Walker’s prison guards. Time after time he saw the shells of his former enemies-turned-friends, and every time the sense of dread he felt grew and grew. He should be lucky that Dan hasn’t found a more powerful ghost to feed upon. Danny wasn’t sure if he could handle fighting a being combined by all the Zone’s powerful ghosts. If Dan got a hold of ‘late’ King Pariah Dark… Danny shuddered at the thought.

Danny shook his head to rid of the thoughts threatening to consume him; it wouldn’t do him any good to scare himself silly before a huge fight. A silence passed between the two friends, both lost in their own world. The normally busy-sounding Zone was quiet for the first time in Danny’s half-life. It was louder than anything he had heard before.

They never should have went alone.

Clockwork winced as yet another flicker of flame crawled up to burn his arm, leaving purple blotches and a stinging sensation in its wake. The time ghost looked over to see Dan swat away Danny as if he were nothing more than a fly. A bright green engulfed Clockwork’s arms and circles of magic flew from the ghost’s fingertips to Dan, wrapping him in light. His movements froze in midair and stuttered as if it was an animation stuck on a few frames, and Clockwork knew it would only hold him for so long.

During the time of Dan being frozen, the time ghost flew to his student, picking up Danny by his arm and pulling him to his feet.

Danny wasn’t doing so well. His face was bloodied up, and his left leg was torn to shreds; Danny feared that he would have to have it amputated when this was all over. He panted harshly, thanking Clockwork for helping him, “The loop can only hold him for so long, Danny. We need a plan!”

“Hit him with all we got while he’s still in the loop!” Phantom growled out, holding his side tightly. His eyes lit up a bright blue and a chill filled the air, “I’ll try to freeze him, you hit him!”

Clockwork nodded, understanding the severity of the situation rather quickly. He could feel Dan strain against the binds that he had put on him, the magic beginning to wain. Danny freezing it slowed the process, however, so Clockwork flew quickly forward with his scythe raised above his head.

He struck downward just as the ice shattered.

The scythe nicked Dan’s arm, making him wince and let a loud growl escape his lips, “You think freezing me will do you any good, old man?” Clockwork swung the scythe again and Dan dodged it as slyly as a snake.

Danny flew up behind the evil entity as Dan dodged and hit him square in the back with a powerful blast from his fingertips. To the halfas surprise, it had startled the darker version, and froze the ghost’s shoulders and arms, rendering them useless until he inevitably broke out once again.

Danny’s neck was grabbed before he could fly away fast enough, and Dan laughed as he watched the halfa squirm uncomfortably in his grip, “Really? That’s the best you got?” A clawed finger rested on the top of Danny’s head, who cried out as it pierced skin. A dark laugh left Dan’s lips, but a blow from Clockwork cut his work short, and the claw slid down the side of Danny’s face. The new scar adorning Danny’s face was horrendous, that of a lightning bolt over his eye and down his cheek.

The boy was thrown aside once more by the angry ghost. Dan sneered at his younger half before turning the snarl onto Clockwork, who held his scythe up high to end, or at least wound, the paradox.

“Is this what it comes to?” He growled out, his red eyes flashing towards the ghost of time, “Do you really believe you can stop me? Even you must feel the inevitable fact that everyone must finally end.”

Clockwork couldn’t help the frown that appeared on his face at the unbridled joy from Dan, “You won’t be leaving here in one piece. That much I can tell you.” He could hear a groan from Danny as he picked himself up, and Clockwork tensed, ready to strike as a smile came to him, “And that isn’t me seeing the future. That’s me knowing that you are weak.”

A ferocious roar ripped from Dan’s throat, bordering on a powerful wail, as fiery blasts were sent his way. A chuckle left Clockwork as he dodged them expertly, knowing the paradox’s method of operating rather well, before sending a volley of his own attacks. Two blasts left his scythe as he swung it, and he stopped time briefly to move behind Dan. He was disturbed by how the monster’s eyes followed him, and even though he should’ve been frozen, Dan moved as if he were bathing in syrup; slow, but seeing everything that was happening around him.

As time resumed, Dan raised his arm just quickly enough to create a shield, blocking the blow meant to decapitate him. He pushed outward, forcing Clockwork backwards to fly into a stray rocky lair, his back taking the brunt of the blow.

Before he could get up, Dan was there, and one hand was wrapped around his throat while the other was around his wrist, keeping him from using his weapon. A look of horror passed onto Clockwork’s face, and he knew that if he had a heart, it would be beating a mile a minute from the terrifying look he was being given. He didn’t understand at first what the feeling was, recognizing it as something more human than he should have felt. But he figured it out rather quickly for a being that has never felt it before.

Fear. Clockwork was afraid; no, he was terrified.

He was scared of what was to happen next, because even though the paradox was interfering with him being able to see the future, Clockwork had a good idea what it meant when he couldn’t see any future passed the next few minutes. Being a creature made at the start of the universe, he had never truly experienced death before. It’s been so long, he couldn’t even remember the beginning of his afterlife. He’s seen the most merciful of deaths, and the brutalest of deaths. He knew this one should be more merciful than others he had seen, but he… he still….

“Dan, please,” He muttered, his eyes wide as he realized what was going to happen, why the hand around his throat began pushing against his chest. Dan’s smile widened as he realized that the great Clockwork was begging for his life. “This isn’t what you want. This isn’t what anyone wants.”

A low chuckle reverberated through the air, and Clockwork could see Danny struggling to rise once again in the distance, and Danny’s concern for the lack of roaring blows was almost tangible. Dan smiled as he pressed harder against Clockwork’s chest, making him wince in terrible pain, “But it is what I want. Your power,” He inhaled deeply through his nose, smelling the power coming from Clockwork, “With the power to control time, I’ll be unstoppable. No timeline will be safe, and everyone will suffer as I have!”

With that, the hand was shoved through his chest as Danny watched on.

Danny Phantom howled as he flew forward furiously, pushing Dan off of his guardian. The paradox grunted in surprise at the sudden attack, sure that he had injured Danny further than what he was letting on. Clockwork still laid against the side of the rocky lair as Danny sent blow after blow Dan’s way, furthering him to be pushed deeper and deeper into the Ghost Zone.

When he was far enough away, Danny’s eyes lit up in concern as he turned to his mentor, helping peel Clockwork off the wall before laying him down. His eyes watered as he saw the familiar look of the caved in chest that decorated the old ghost, the pendulums in his chest broken and the gears twitching. But what was most apparent was the swirling orb lying in the center, swirling with brilliant greens, blues, and purples.

Clockwork wheezed, his mouth trying to suck in breaths he didn’t need, trying to consume ectoplasm that couldn’t save him. Danny leaned his hands down, cupping the man’s face as a few tears welled up over the sides onto his cheeks, “St-Stopwatch? You there?”

A humorless laugh left the time ghost’s lips, “Not for long, Daniel.”

They sat there in silence a moment. Clockwork wondered what Danny will do after he passed. Will he run to spend his last moments with his family, or will he die trying to win over an inevitable future? What was right, in this case? He didn’t know anymore. He couldn’t see the future, couldn’t see what was to happen next.

Just as he was about to give up trying, something passed through his sight. A vision. A small one, but one large enough to catch his attention. Clockwork closed his eyes tightly, clutching a hand to his chest, and saw… Danny.

The shock of brilliant white hair was underneath a familiar looking purple cloak, and a scythe hung at his side. Danny wasn’t facing Clockwork, but he could feel the pure power coming off of him. Large gloved hands twitched at his sides, before a chuckle left the future ghost’s mouth, “Hm. It seems I don’t… remember.” The ghost turned around, a smile on his face, “Hello, Clockwork.”

Clockwork couldn’t say anything. It was just a vision, and he was too weak to even begin to think to manipulate a copy of himself into it. All he could do was gawk at the sight of his student as all the puzzle pieces had fallen into place. Daniel’s skin was slight paler than normal, borderline blue in fact, and his eyes were losing their green hue. The most prominent new features, however, were the familiar healing scar on his cheek and the singular pendulum rocking in his chest.

“You can’t talk to me, I know. And I’m not angry with your decision anymore. I understand what was supposed to happen, even if you were unsure what would become of the future.” A chuckle left the man’s lips as his hand scratched against the scar on his cheek, a familiar habit to the dying ghost, “Just know that you’ll make the right decision, okay?”

The ghost fell silent after a while of talking. He seemed to be contemplating something, before a boisterous laugh to rival Jack Fenton’s left him, “It just really makes you wonder, you know?”

As the vision was fading, he could hear the distant voice of future Danny, “Who came first, you or I?”

Clockwork’s vision melded back to see the frightened present Danny hovering above him, tears falling from his eyes. The ghost could feel the cool tears on his cheek as a distant roar echoes in the background, signalling Dan was going to return to fight once again soon. Danny was shouting something, but it hurt Clockwork’s ears at first.

“Daniel, ironically, I don’t have much time.” Clockwork gave a pitiful laugh before wincing at the feeling of his exposed core. Danny paid close attention to his every word, “I need you… to do something.”

The halfa sniffed loudly before wiping his nose, flinching at the new scar forming on his cheek, “Yeah, yeah of course, Clocky. What is it?” Clockwork mustered whatever strength he had left and sat up, leaning against a rock. He could see Dan in the distance, stumbling as he tried to fly faster and faster.

“You aren’t going to like it, Daniel.” Clockwork gave a slight smile, finally realizing what he must do to force Danny to win the next battle.

Danny gave a soft growl in the back of his throat, “I’ll do anything to help you!”

Clockwork went quiet a moment. Danny wouldn’t do what came next willingly, and he didn’t need to see the future to know that. His own disgust for even thinking about consuming ghost cores finally made sense. Before Danny could react, Clockwork had already flipped them over, forcing Danny into the dirt on his back. One hand held him down while the other held his gaping chest, “Help yourself, first.”

Danny cried out as the core was ripped out by Clockwork’s own hand and shoved down his mouth. The halfa squirmed in agony as he tasted the core of one of his best friends who was sacrificing himself to save him. As much as it mentally hurt and made him gag, Danny couldn’t help but melt at the taste that was dominating his mouth, sending surges of power through his body.

Clockwork watched wordlessly as he saw Danny’s eyes flicker from green to red, back and forth until it wasn’t discernible what his eyes were to be. At first it looked as if Danny was conflicted with the sweet tasting soul or his own morals, before the visions began.

The Master of Time began to remember this moment, as if from a dream a long time ago. He knew it was painful to see everything fly across his vision for the first time, how nauseas it made him to feel as if he were spread across the universes and timelines an infinite amount of times. Clockwork remembered trying to get used to the new him, ending up at the beginning of time, the end of time, and present time. He gave a chuckle one last time before smiling widely at the halfa, or whatever he could be considered now. He wondered at himself from the other timeline and laughingly agreed with himself; whoever did come first?

The thermos fell off of Danny’s back as he consumed the last bit of Clockwork’s core, his very essence. Nothing was making sense to him anymore, and he was in such immense pain that he couldn’t even begin to find himself to cry about his friend dying in front of him. A choked sob tore his throat, trying to escape him, but couldn’t through the haze of pain.

Why would Clockwork do this to him? He wanted to cry out and scream into the abyss, take out his anger on something, anything. He could almost feel it; the need for more cores, but he shoved it down. No, Clockwork did everything for a reason.

He just had to trust him, had to believe in a dying ghost’s request.

Danny rubbed his eyes, trying to rid of the countless painful timelines obscuring his sight. He may be angry at the moment, but he just… he had to trust him. The halfa finally noticed something as well.

It was quiet. So painfully quiet that the silence felt like it was going to hurt him, that something was going to ambush him in the calm of the storm. A turn of the head, and Danny saw it. The paradox.

Frozen in time by Danny himself.

A wry grin made it’s way to his lips as he saw Dan struggle against the new power he held, amplified by the core sitting in his belly, and the feeling of electricity and frost spread through him. Although he was pissed as all hell, it was almost comforting to hold the immense power within himself.

Danny kicked the thermos aside and lifted up his scythe. Dan would be back in another timeline, he was sure. But for now? He wasn’t needed to exist anywhere. Phantom - no, Clockwork reborn once again - calmly flew to the struggling figure trapped in time. A memory flew to his surface, making the grin on his face grow larger as he remembered the line from a cartoon he had watched long ago. Yet, he felt his aggression was just. He raised the scythe above Dan’s neck.

“Hello, well-placed aggression.” And he swung downward.

#this turned out darker than intended #dark dan #ghost core #clockwork #Danny Phantom #DP

33 notes · View notes