#ghostlyglimmer's fanfiction

[ghostlyglimmer]

Frat Party Fight

Ao3 Link

Summary:

Danny Fenton finally moved away to college and gets dragged to a Halloween frat party by his new classmates.

The pounding bass of the frat party throbbed through the old house, lights flashing in rhythm with the music, and people spilling out of every corner, drinks in hand, laughing and chatting. Danny Fenton hovered on the outskirts of the chaos, sipping from a plastic cup filled with something way too sweet. His friends from one of his college courses had invited him to the Halloween rager, and while this wasn't really his scene, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to socialize a little.

Living here was different from Amity Park—a little quieter, a little more distant from the constant threat of ghost attacks. But ghosts weren't ever completely absent from Danny’s life. It was supposed to be a chance to start over, but tonight, that familiar sense of dread tingled at the back of his neck.

"Yo, Danny!" One of his new friends, Kevin, staggered over, grinning wide with glazed eyes. "Check this out!" He pointed toward the center of the living room, where a group of drunk students had gathered in a circle. One of them had a worn-out book in his hands, and the others were crowded around a Ouija board, laughing.

Danny froze, his heart lurching. He squinted at the book. That looks way too familiar.

As he edged closer, he overheard snippets of conversation.

"Got this at a thrift store, man. Bet we can summon something cool!"

"Yeah, maybe Phantom will show up!" someone joked, sending the circle into a fit of giggles.

But Danny wasn’t laughing. His eyes locked on the book—the cover scrawled with symbols that made his chest tighten. It wasn’t just some cheap knockoff occult book. He knew it. His core twisted, recognizing the ghostly energy radiating from it.

"Guys," Danny interrupted, his voice cracking over the music, but no one seemed to notice. "Guys, seriously, stop."

Kevin turned back to him, laughing. "Chill, man! It’s just for fun!"

"No, you don't understand." Danny's voice sharpened, urgency cutting through. He made his way toward the center of the room, his heart hammering faster with every step. “That book—it’s not some joke. It’s real.”

The laughter died down. One by one, heads turned, and the room went unnervingly quiet. People were staring now, watching as Danny stormed forward, reaching for the book.

"Come on, man," the guy holding it—Tom—slurred, pulling the book away from Danny. "We’re just trying to have some fun." His eyes glinted mischievously as he continued to read from the page. "In fact... why don’t we finish the incantation?"

Danny lunged. "No! Don’t—"

But it was too late.

Tom slurred the last syllable, grinning as he spoke the final word. The air in the room shifted, a cold wind sweeping through despite the closed windows. The ground under their feet vibrated, and Danny felt it—the pull. His breath hitched, and the world tilted as the green portal swirled open beneath him.

He didn’t even have time to yell as the portal yanked him in, his body twisting in midair as the students screamed. The last thing he saw was the terrified, wide-eyed stares of his friends, frozen in place as he disappeared.

The party plunged into chaos. People scrambled back, knocking over cups and furniture, some trying to run for the door. But as soon as they moved, glowing green runes ignited on the floor in a perfect circle, trapping them inside.

Out of the center of the runes, something began to crawl.

The Ghost King emerged from the runed portal. His massive, clawed hands gripped the edge of the floor as he pulled himself up, his sharp fangs visible even in the flickering party lights. His eyes blazed an otherworldly green, and his form was much larger and more monstrous than any of them could have imagined.

Everyone went still.

Danny—or the thing they once knew as Danny—stood before them, a hulking figure that barely resembled the boy who had just been at the party. His glowing eyes swept over the room, fangs bared, claws flexing.

The silence was suffocating.

Danny took a step forward, awkwardly. “Uh… okay, listen,” his deep voice rumbled, somehow both terrifying and familiar. “I know this looks bad, but—”

Someone screamed.

“Please, stop!” Danny raised his hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture, but the sharp claws didn’t help. “It’s just me! It’s still me! I'm not gonna hurt you!”

His new friends stood motionless, their faces pale. Kevin’s mouth hung open, eyes darting between Danny and the ghostly runes on the floor.

“Just... just stop screaming and let me explain,” Danny tried again, his voice strained. "That book—it summoned the Ghost King. Which is, uh, me. But I’m not here to hurt anyone, I swear!"

Tom, still clutching the summoning book, stared in utter shock, backing up slowly. “D-Danny?” he croaked.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Danny gestured to himself, forcing a smile that only made him look more terrifying. "Surprise?" he said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

The crowd didn’t seem convinced.

“Oh, this is bad,” Danny muttered to himself. He glanced around, looking for anything that could help de-escalate the situation. “Okay, how about we just… calm down, yeah? I’ll get rid of the runes, and no one gets hurt. Sound good?”

No one moved.

Danny exhaled a heavy, ectoplasmic sigh and slowly bent down to trace a glowing claw along the runes. One by one, the symbols faded from the floor, their ghostly energy dispersing. The room seemed to relax slightly, but the tension still hung thick in the air.

When the last rune disappeared, Danny stood up, dusting off his claws awkwardly. “See? All good. So... how about we, uh, pretend this never happened?”

The partygoers blinked at him, still frozen in stunned silence.

Danny winced. "Or, uh, I could leave and… you know, never come back?"

Kevin finally found his voice. “Dude, you’re the Ghost King?”

Danny grimaced. “Yeah, about that… Long story.”

The room remained quiet for a beat longer before one of the other students, clearly still shaken, stammered, “Cool...?”

Danny smiled sheepishly. “Cool.”

[ghostlyglimmer]

Had to write something based on this, OP, your idea was so much fun to play with!

Ok guys consider this: DP fic where Danny and Wes run away together

Make no mistake, they still absolutely HATE each other. Wes has been trying to expose Danny’s identity since the beginning, and that hasn’t changed a bit since the GiW appeared.

Now, though, it makes a little bit more sense to Danny.

Wes is at his window, panting and shaking, and he is bleeding. The GiW, he explains, had been harassing him since the beginning. An hour ago, they got the warrant needed to take him into custody, and they went after him immediately. To add to that, they got the papers to go after one other person as well. Danny.

So now, they’re on the world’s worst road trip to Florida or Alaska or some other, equally far away state because Wes has an uncle there who he knows has a deep enough grudge against the government that he won’t sell them out for anything.

They hate each other, and desperately wish they could ditch each other, but Danny’s the only one who can actually keep their rustbucket bike (originally Wes’ brother’s, gifted to him after it started breaking down) working without dropping at least 2 grand on repairs, and Wes is the only one with a driver’s license.

Danny’s honestly surprised that Wes didn’t just sell him out. Wes told him that, quite frankly, he probably would have, had the GiW not attacked him as viciously as they did. He still hated Danny, of course, but he couldn’t live with himself if he just…left someone to get tortured like that.

Danny snaps that he knew the GiW would do that since the beginning, and if Wes had just listened to him—

In truth, he’s surprisingly touched. He’s never gonna tell Wes that, but still.

Basically just roadtrip of hell where Danny and Wes slowly get closer and start to understand each other, while simultaneously Jazz and Sam are working together to politically destroy the GiW, Tucker is running digital interference as much as possible (Danny, please stop showing your full face in front of security cameras, are you trying to give him a seizure), and the parents Fenton are beginning to think that they might’ve, just maybe, made a slight mistake in their understanding of Phantom.

[ghostlyxglimmer]

About

Hi there I'm Glimmer AKA Ayala

I'm newer to the fandom but have loved the show since I was little. I'm so floored at how amazing everyone has been and I'm so excited to be here!

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[ghostlyglimmer]

Unlikely Roads: Chapter 1

Summary:

Danny and his rival, Wes Weston, as they join forces to escape the GIW. On a tense road trip, they uncover personal truths and forge an unexpected bond while battling both the GIW and their own conflicts.

Fic is inspired by @greenglowinspooks's post!

The quiet of Amity Park’s night was shattered by the frantic pounding on Danny’s window.

Danny Fenton sat bolt upright in bed, heart racing. His first thought was that some ghost had decided to wreck his night. Again. But when he glanced at the clock—2:17 AM—and looked outside, what he saw wasn't a ghost at all. It was Wes Weston. Bruised, bloody, and visibly shaking.

“What the hell?” Danny muttered, more annoyed than alarmed at first. Wes had always been a thorn in his side. Always trying to "out" him as Danny Phantom to everyone in school, even though no one ever believed him. But this? This was...different.

“Fenton!” Wes’s voice cracked through the glass, desperate and raw. “Open up!”

Still half-asleep, Danny threw back his blanket and padded across the floor. He opened the window just a crack, enough to hear the panic in Wes’s voice more clearly. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“They’re after me,” Wes gasped, leaning against the window frame, struggling to catch his breath. His face was pale, and his clothes were torn, as if he’d barely escaped something—or someone. “The GIW… they’re after me. And you.”

That got Danny’s attention. “Wait, what?”

Wes took a shaky breath, wincing as he touched a cut on his forehead. “They’ve been watching me. For weeks. Ever since I started poking around, asking too many questions. An hour ago, they got a warrant. They want me in custody because of what I know... and they want you for what you are.”

Danny’s stomach flipped. The GIW—the Ghost Investigation Ward—had been a constant threat ever since they’d set up camp in Amity Park, hunting ghosts with their high-tech weapons and zero tolerance. But for them to be after Wes too? That was new. That was bad.

He could feel the cool buzz of his ghost sense curling in his chest, a sign that danger was near, though not supernatural this time. It was human—and that made it scarier. He narrowed his eyes at Wes. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because I didn’t have to come here!” Wes snapped, his voice breaking. “I could’ve run. I should’ve run, but I didn’t! They’ll kill me just for knowing your secret, and you? They’ll do worse to you if they catch you.”

Danny clenched his jaw, weighing his options. Wes had been a royal pain for so long—constantly badgering him about being Phantom, always trying to expose him. But Wes looked absolutely terrified. There was no mistaking the desperation in his eyes.

“Look,” Wes pleaded, his breath ragged. “You’ve got powers. You’ve got a chance. But I can’t... I can’t do this alone.”

Danny stood frozen, staring at Wes. The easy thing would be to slam the window shut, let Wes deal with his mess. But if what he said was true—and Danny's gut told him it was—they were both in deep trouble.

“Fine,” Danny grumbled, yanking the window open fully and helping Wes climb inside. “But we’re gonna need more than your paranoid rambling to get out of this.”

“I have a plan,” Wes said, his voice still shaky but firm. “My uncle. He lives out of state. He doesn’t trust the government, hates the GIW, all that. He’ll help us, no questions asked.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Your uncle? And where does this government-hating conspiracy theorist live?”

“Florida.” Wes rubbed his hands together, trying to shake off the cold sweat from his skin. “Or Alaska. Either one works. The farther the better.”

Danny groaned. “Great. So, what? We hitchhike to Florida?”

“I have a bike. It’s my brother’s old one.” Wes hesitated. “But it’s in bad shape.”

“You think?”

“I didn’t have time to fix it, okay?! They showed up out of nowhere. We don’t have time to be picky.”

Danny frowned, pacing. He didn’t have many choices. If Wes was right, the GIW could be busting down the door any minute now. His parents were out of town, Jazz was staying at a friend’s, and Tucker and Sam were both unreachable at this hour. Danny didn’t know how much he trusted Wes—actually, he didn’t trust Wes at all—but he knew one thing: the GIW wasn’t going to stop until they had him. And if they thought Wes was connected to Phantom, they’d take him down too.

“Fine,” Danny said. “Let’s go.”

They crept downstairs as quietly as possible, slipping out the back door. As promised, Wes’s “bike” sat at the edge of the driveway, looking like it had seen better days—years ago. Rust clung to the metal frame, the engine sputtered when Wes tried to start it, and the tires were half-deflated.

“Oh, this is just great,” Danny muttered sarcastically, arms crossed. “We’re going to outrun the government on this thing?”

“Shut up and help me,” Wes hissed, yanking on the choke to get the engine going. Danny rolled his eyes but grudgingly stepped in, using his powers to subtly jumpstart the engine. After a few coughs and splutters, the bike roared to life—well, more like it wheezed to life, but it was running.

Danny climbed on behind Wes, the smell of gasoline thick in the air. He glanced behind them, half-expecting to see the black vans of the GIW pulling into his neighborhood. Nothing yet. But he knew it wouldn’t be long.

“Alright, Weston,” Danny muttered, gripping the back of the seat. “Let’s see how long we last before this thing breaks down.”

Wes glanced over his shoulder, his expression a mix of fear and determination. “Let’s just hope we make it out of town first.”

With that, Wes twisted the throttle, and they shot forward down the empty street, the wind biting at their faces as they sped into the night. Danny could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on them. He didn’t know how far they could run, or how long they could hide, but one thing was clear: for better or worse, they were in this together now.

As they tore through the deserted streets, the tension between them simmered. Danny kept one eye on the road ahead, the other on Wes. Part of him still wondered if this was some elaborate trick—if Wes would sell him out the second he got the chance. But then Danny saw the way Wes’s knuckles whitened on the handlebars, his breath hitching every time they passed a streetlight.

For the first time, Danny realized Wes wasn’t just scared of him. He was scared of the same thing Danny was: the GIW.

[ghostlyglimmer]

Edge of Control Chapter 1: A New Start

Summary:

25 year old Danny Fenton tries to live a normal life, he works at a rundown convenience store, all while suppressing his ghostly powers. But when a predatory customer constantly harasses his fellow coworker, something starts to crack.

Notes:

TW: Sexual Harassment & Assault Based on a prompt from @Regonold

Danny Fenton stood at the register of the cornerstore convenience shop, eyes scanning the dingy street outside. A pair of flickering fluorescent lights buzzed above him, casting a pale, sickly glow over the shelves lined with snacks, cigarettes, and cheap canned goods. The neon "Open" sign blinked weakly in the window, like it was struggling to stay awake.

It was well past midnight, and the streets were quiet. For now. In this neighborhood, the calm never lasted long, especially once the bars let out and the real characters started crawling from the shadows. But Danny didn’t mind the late hours. In fact, he liked the stillness—the normality of it all.

The bell above the door jingled, and Danny looked up to see Tracy walking in. She was wearing her usual oversized hoodie, hood up despite the warm night. She gave him a tired smile as she approached the counter.

"Hey, Danny," she greeted, dropping her bag behind the counter. "Quiet tonight?"

"Quiet for now," Danny replied, leaning his elbows on the counter. "But it's only a matter of time."

Tracy nodded, sliding in next to him at the register. She was only seventeen, a high schooler trying to save up some money before graduation, but she had that kind of wary, streetwise attitude that came from growing up around the wrong kind of people. She'd been working at the cornerstore for a couple of months, starting not long after Danny did, and though she didn’t say much about her life, Danny knew enough from the way she carried herself to understand she had her reasons for keeping her head down.

In some ways, she reminded him of himself. They were both just trying to survive, trying to blend in and stay under the radar. Except Danny had a lot more to hide than just a rough home life.

He hadn’t used his powers in weeks, which was a personal record. After years of ghost-fighting, he’d finally managed to escape Amity Park—escape the never-ending cycle of being a hero, being a target. Here, in this nameless city with its dirty streets and forgotten corners, he was just another face in the crowd.

It felt good. Normal. Like he could breathe.

"Anything weird happen earlier?" Tracy asked, flipping through the worn inventory clipboard, though Danny doubted she was actually paying attention to it.

"Just the usual," Danny shrugged. "That guy who always tries to steal candy bars came in. I scared him off."

She raised an eyebrow, amused. "Scared him off? Did you glare at him real hard or something?"

"Something like that," Danny said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He hadn't used any ghostly abilities, but a hard look and a bit of quiet menace were enough to keep most people at bay. He was good at blending in, but he was also good at not being messed with. A skill he'd perfected over the years.

Tracy chuckled, tossing the clipboard aside. "You’re like a bouncer in a convenience store. Bet they don't pay you enough for that."

"Not even close."

The conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence. Outside, the streetlights flickered, casting long shadows on the cracked sidewalk. Danny watched them with half an eye, his mind wandering. He liked the rhythm of the job. The simplicity. Sure, the neighborhood was rough, and the clientele could be unpredictable, but it was manageable. It was... human.

No ghosts. No paranormal disasters to deal with. No one trying to hunt him down. Just the mundane, gritty reality of a life that didn’t demand anything more than showing up and keeping the shelves stocked.

It was peaceful. For the first time in what felt like forever, Danny wasn’t running. He wasn’t fighting.

Of course, there were still slip-ups. A couple of weeks ago, he’d caught himself reflexively phasing through the stockroom door to grab something. Luckily, no one had seen him. And once or twice, when the lights flickered, he’d instinctively thought it was ghost-related, his heart hammering with that old adrenaline rush. But nothing ever came of it. No threats. No ghosts. Just faulty wiring in an old building.

“Hey, Danny,” Tracy said, pulling him out of his thoughts. She was leaning against the counter now, looking a little more serious. “Why’d you take this job? You’re, like… way too old to be working here.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Too old?”

“You know what I mean. You don’t seem like someone who’d be stuck in this place. Most of the guys your age are off doing, I dunno, real jobs.”

For a moment, Danny wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d come here to disappear, to live a life no one questioned. But here was Tracy, questioning it. He could come up with a hundred lies, but somehow, he didn’t want to lie to her. She’d seen enough BS in her life already.

“I needed a change of pace,” Danny said eventually, keeping it vague. “Something... simple.”

Tracy nodded slowly, like she understood. She didn’t push him for more, which Danny appreciated. She had her own secrets, too.

The bell above the door jingled again, pulling their attention. A group of guys in their early twenties shuffled in, already drunk and rowdy. Danny tensed, his senses going on high alert. Tracy gave him a look, already clocking them as trouble. They were loud, obnoxious, and definitely not here for snacks.

"Great," Tracy muttered under her breath.

Danny straightened up, his easygoing demeanor shifting into something more watchful. His heart rate picked up, and a familiar, cold edge settled into his gut—the instinct that something bad was about to happen. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t use his powers, wouldn’t let his ghost side out. But there were times like these, when the predator in him stirred, that it was hard to keep that promise.

He just had to hope that tonight, he wouldn’t have to.

[ghostlyglimmer]

Summary:

Tucker Foley receives a desperate text from his best friend, Danny Fenton, asking for help. When Tucker arrives at Danny’s basement, he finds the inactive Ghost Portal Project is on.

The evening had been quiet—too quiet for Tucker Foley’s liking. He had been tinkering with his tech in the comfort of his room when his phone buzzed on the desk. Picking it up casually, Tucker froze at the sight of the message.

“I’m in trouble, come quick.”

It was from Danny.

Tucker’s heart skipped a beat. Deep in Tucker’s gut alarm bells rang that something had gone very wrong. He trusted his gut with his life. Tucker’s hands moved on autopilot, tossing his stuff into a backpack as he sprinted out the door, heart hammering in his chest.

It wasn’t a long run to Fenton Works, but the growing knot of anxiety in his stomach made the journey feel like an eternity. He tried calling Danny twice, but both calls went straight to voicemail. No answer. No sign that Danny had even seen the messages Tucker sent back.

By the time Tucker reached Danny’s house, the sun was sinking low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the street. The familiar shape of Fenton Works loomed before him, and Tucker’s stomach churned at the sight of green light seeping through the  tiny basement window. The ghost portal. Had something gone wrong with the portal?

Bursting through the front door, Tucker barely paused to catch his breath as he descended the stairs into the lab. The moment his feet hit the basement floor, the hum of the ghost portal surrounded him. The air was thick with an unnatural energy, sending goosebumps prickling across his skin.

But it wasn’t the glowing portal that made Tucker’s heart stop.

It was Danny.

He was sprawled out in front of the portal, unmoving, his body limp against the cold metal floor. His black and white Phantom suit was torn, his face pale— too pale —and his chest wasn’t rising. There was no mistaking it. Tucker had seen death before, but never like this. Never Danny.

Tucker dropped his bag and ran to his friend, dropping to his knees beside Danny’s lifeless form. His hands trembled as he touched Danny’s wrist, then his neck, desperately searching for a pulse.

There was nothing. No heartbeat. No warmth. Only cold, stiff skin.

“No… Danny, come on, man, wake up!” Tucker’s voice broke as he gently shook his best friend, hoping for some sign, any sign that this wasn’t real. “You can’t—this can’t be happening!”

But Danny didn’t move. He was dead—had been for hours.

Tucker’s breath came in ragged gasps, his mind reeling. How had this happened? 

And yet here he was—cold, lifeless, gone.

Tucker wiped at his eyes, his vision blurring with tears. The ghost portal behind him thrummed ominously, casting an eerie green glow across the room. It was on.

The portal was working.

His parents had been trying to get it operational for years, and somehow… somehow it had activated.

Tucker’s stomach twisted. Had Danny been caught in it? Had the portal malfunctioned, or had a ghost attack gone wrong? The possibilities raced through his mind, each one worse than the last.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Tucker blinked, momentarily confused. With shaking hands, he pulled out his phone and looked at the screen.

A new text.

From Danny.

“Where are you? Hurry.”

The blood drained from Tucker’s face. He stared at the screen, his mind unable to process what he was seeing. It couldn’t be real. Danny was dead. Dead. His body was lying right in front of him. How could he be sending texts?

His phone buzzed again, the noise slicing through the heavy silence of the lab like a knife.

“Please, hurry. I’m still here.”

Tucker’s breath hitched, and he glanced back at Danny’s body. His best friend hadn’t moved. He was still pale, still cold. Still dead. Tucker’s hands trembled as he looked between Danny’s body and the glowing ghost portal.

“Still here…” Tucker whispered, his voice barely audible. 

Another buzz.

“Please, Tucker. You need to help me.”

Tucker wiped at his eyes again, determination settling in his chest as he stared at the swirling green vortex of the portal.

His phone buzzed one last time.

“Please. I’m scared.”

[ghostlyglimmer]

Ectoberweek Day 31: He thought he'd been prepared to take off the mask on the hazmat suit and see what he looked like underneath. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Summary:

He thought he'd been prepared to take off the mask on the hazmat suit and see what he looked like underneath. He couldn't have been more wrong. The portal messed him up more than he thought.

Notes:

Finally finished Ectoberhaunt/Ectoberweek! I am SO PROUD OF MYSELF! This is the first time I've ever done an october/danny phantom event and I did EVERY DAY! A huge feat for me aaaaaa ;0;

Danny stood in front of the mirror, his fingers trembling as they hovered over the fasteners of his hazmat suit. His heart pounded in his chest, the rhythm unnatural, more of a low thrum than a proper beat. He had convinced himself that he was ready for this, that after weeks of sleepless nights, of nightmares and flashes of what had happened in the portal, he could finally face the truth.

Just a glance, he told himself. A brief peek to confirm that he was still himself under all of this — under the glowing eyes, the strange strength, and the eerie stillness of his pulse. It was just a precautionary suit, after all, something to contain his energy when he fought ghosts. At least, that’s what he had convinced himself it was. But now, as his fingers slowly undid the clasp, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible awaited him beneath.

The latch clicked open, and Danny felt his breath hitch in his throat. He wasn’t breathing, not really — not since the accident. He was pretending to breathe. The reality of that settled in the pit of his stomach, cold and unyielding, like a stone lodged where his warmth should be.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Danny peeled the suit away from his body. His eyes, glowing a harsh ectoplasmic green, locked onto the mirror.

At first, he saw that he had unusual pale skin, the white hair that had replaced his once-dark locks, and the faint glow that always seemed to cling to him in his ghost form. But as the suit fell away completely, his reflection twisted. Shifted.

His skin… no, it wasn’t skin anymore.

Danny’s breath—or the shallow imitation of it—caught in his throat. His face, his chest, his arms, his entire body, charred and burned, was revealed. Blackened skin, cracked and mottled like the surface of scorched earth, stretched over his bones. Green ectoplasm pulsed through the cracks, like veins of molten fire running just beneath his surface. His fingers twitched, and the motion caused flakes of charred flesh to crumble from his hands, only to be replaced by more seeping ectoplasm.

Oh God.

His eyes widened, horror seizing him as he stumbled back, hitting the bathroom wall. His reflection followed, the sickening reality of what he’d become staring back at him. This wasn’t just a ghost form. This wasn’t just some new transformation.

This was him — his real body.

“What… what the hell…” Danny whispered, though his voice cracked, barely audible. He reached a shaking hand toward his face, his fingers brushing against the charred remains of his cheek. The sensation was numb, like touching something distant, not really his own skin. His heart, that dull thrumming echo of a heartbeat, sped up, each pulse a painful reminder of the accident in the ghost portal.

Memories flooded back in fragmented flashes. The screams, the burning sensation, the searing light that had enveloped him when the portal had torn open and ripped through his body. He had never really seen what he looked like after the accident — he’d never wanted to. He had convinced himself that his ghost form was just another side of him, a reflection of his powers, of the energy that had saved him from the brink of death.

But he hadn’t been saved.

He had died.

The boy who had entered that portal was dead, reduced to ash and embers. What stood before him now was something else entirely—something that only wore Danny Fenton’s face when the hazmat suit was on. But beneath it, there was nothing human left.

Just this… charred, hollow corpse.

Danny’s legs gave out beneath him, and he slid to the floor, his back pressed against the cold tile wall. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of his twisted reflection, but he couldn’t unsee it. The truth had sunk in, deep into his core.

He was no longer the boy who lived. He was the boy who had died. Everything since that accident, everything he had tried to hold onto—his family, his friends, his life—had been a lie. Phantom wasn’t just a mask or a persona. It was all that remained.

He let out a shaky breath, or at least tried to. It caught in his throat, more of a rasp than anything else. What would his parents say if they saw him like this? If they knew the truth of what had happened to their son? Would they even recognize him as Danny, or would they see him as just another ghost — just another monster to be hunted and destroyed?

He pressed his hand to his chest, feeling the unnatural smoothness of his charred skin, the faint vibration of ectoplasm flowing beneath it like blood. It was a grotesque mockery of life. He wasn’t healing, wasn’t recovering from this. This was him now. This was all he had left.

Tears pricked at his eyes, but even they were tinged green, drops of ectoplasm that burned as they rolled down his cheeks. He looked up at his reflection once more, his glowing eyes locking with the hollow, scorched thing staring back at him.

And for the first time since the accident, Danny Phantom understood just how much he had truly lost.

He wasn’t prepared to take off the mask — not now, not ever. Because the mask, the suit, the human skin he hid behind, was all that kept him tethered to the life he so desperately wanted to return to.

But the truth had always been waiting beneath. A truth as blackened and charred as the body he now inhabited.

And now, there was no hiding from it.

[ghostlyglimmer]

Ectoberweek Day 30 Tarot: The World

Summary:

The World: Represents an ending to a cycle of life, a pause in life before the next big cycle beginning with the fool. It is an indicator of a major and inexorable change, of tectonic breadth.   AKA Danny has a vital decision to make for the safety of the entire universe

In the heart of the Ghost Zone, the air trembled, pulsing with a strange, foreboding energy. Danny Fenton floated before a rift—an impossible tear where eerie green light fractured into both his world and the human world. It was a sight he’d never imagined: the boundary between life and death, reality and spirit, coming apart.

Beside him, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz stood tense, their faces illuminated by the ghostly glow. All silent, staring with a mixture of pride and dread. They all understood the weight of the decision before him, but only Danny knew what it truly meant.

"Are you sure?" Jazz whispered, her voice a steady anchor despite the shaking in her hands.

Danny nodded, his throat tight. He could feel the Ghost Zone calling to him. It had been growing for years now, a quiet hum in his veins, urging him closer. Every battle, every ghost he’d sent back, had led him here, to this final choice.

He’d fought countless battles to protect both worlds from destruction, but this threat—the collapse of the boundary between realms—was something else entirely. The rift was eating away at the very fabric of existence, and if he didn’t act soon, both the human world and Ghost Zone would be consumed.

"The Zone’s reaching out to you, isn’t it?" Sam asked, looking into his eyes. She understood; she’d always understood. Her hand lingered on his shoulder, grounding him. "It wants you to join it, to stabilize everything."

Danny exhaled, nodding again. “It does. If I… if I merge with the Zone, it’ll seal the rift, strengthen the barrier between our worlds.”

Tucker stepped forward, his expression pleading. "Danny, there has to be another way. You don’t have to… You don’t have to give up everything!"

But they all knew the truth. He’d felt it within him, even before the rift had appeared. His connection to the Zone was deeper than he’d ever wanted to admit. The Ghost Zone wasn’t just another dimension to him—it was a part of him. Its spirits, its very essence, had woven themselves into his core from the moment he first transformed.

“If I do this,” Danny said, his voice thick with emotion, “I won’t be Danny Fenton anymore. I’ll become something else. I’ll be part of the Ghost Zone—its guardian spirit. It means I won’t be able to come back. Not like this.” His gaze drifted over each of them, committing every face to memory.

Sam reached out to grasp Danny’s hand. She was crying, her fingers trembling. "Danny, …. We don’t want to lose you."

He took her hand, squeezing it gently. "You won’t. I’ll still be here. And I’ll still be me… just not like I am now."

Jazz swallowed, fighting back tears. "You’re doing this to protect us. Both worlds."

Danny nodded. “It’s the only way. If I don’t… everything we know, everyone we love, they’ll all die.”

Silence settled over them, broken only by the low, ominous hum of the rift, growing wider and more unstable with every passing second.

Tucker stepped forward, his face resolute despite the tears welling in his eyes. "Then do it, Danny. If this is what you have to do to keep everyone safe… then do it. We’ll never forget you."

Danny felt a surge of warmth, their acceptance fortifying his resolve. He turned to face the rift and took a steadying breath. The energy crackled around him, an invitation and a warning all at once.

Slowly, he stepped forward, raising his hands to the tear. As his fingers touched the edge, an overwhelming surge of power coursed through him. The rift responded, reaching out with tendrils of pure ghostly energy that wrapped around him, pulling him in. The force intensified, and he felt himself being pulled apart, as though every molecule was stretching, merging, fusing with the Zone itself.

Pain, sharp and all-consuming, ripped through him. But with it came clarity, a sense of purpose he’d never known before. He felt the souls of the Ghost Zone flooding into him—old friends, former enemies, lost spirits who’d once haunted him and those he’d saved. Their energy joined with his, intertwining as he became the pulse and heart of the Zone.

With one final surge, he pulled the edges of the rift together, feeling the Ghost Zone shift and settle around him. The rip healed, sealing the boundary between worlds, stabilizing the fragile line between life and death.

But he was no longer Danny Fenton. He was something more, something eternal, and he could feel the entirety of the Ghost Zone stretching out before him—an endless expanse of memories, history, and energy that pulsed with his every thought.

In the human world, his friends and family watched, eyes fixed on the spot where he had stood. The rift was gone, and the green light dimmed. For a long moment, there was only silence, an aching void where Danny had been. Then, as they turned to leave, a gentle breeze swept past, carrying with it a soft whisper, a voice they all recognized.

“I’m still here. I’ll always be here.”

Jazz looked up, her heart filled with a bittersweet ache. She could almost feel Danny’s presence, lingering, like a memory or a dream. Sam and Tucker stood beside her, sharing quiet looks, each knowing they’d never truly be alone as long as the Ghost Zone lived.

For years to come, the people of Amity Park spoke of a new, powerful presence in the Ghost Zone—a spirit unlike any other, one that guarded the balance between worlds with a fierce, protective love. Some said he appeared to lost souls, guiding them back home; others spoke of a gentle, watchful star that kept the worst of the ghostly threats at bay.

And though his family and friends never saw him again, they knew, deep down, that Danny Fenton had found his place—watching over them as the guardian of the realms, at peace and whole, forever.

[ghostlyglimmer]

OP, this idea was so juicy I had to write something up regarding this idea. Tracy puts up with too much BS tbh.

I wanna see more feral and unhinged danny like danny whos on the edge but not quite as feral a d unhinged as possible

Like ok danny gets a regular ass job in some city but he's free and living as a normal ass human for the first time in years

And he's doing fine at it there's a few slip ups but eh he can pass them off as Midwestern quirks so far everything was going great

Until some guy started creeping on one of his younger coworkers and danny promised he wouldn't do anything ghostly so he didn't he just made sure to always block her interacting with the guy when possible

But then that man touched her he spanked her as she bent over to pick something up and he was angry

So angry he didn't notice when his nails sharpend and elongated and screached the metal of the door nor how his eyes gained an eierrie geen glow nor the low guttural growl of a predator echoing from him

He didn't notice but his coworkers did they noticed the flickering lights the sudden chill in the previously hot space the feeling of being in a room with a dangerous predator

Danny started stalking forward makeing no noise the man had of course noticed what was happening by now and was staring at danny in fear

Danny stalked ever closer and was he always this tall he seemed to be looming over the man now

L̷̡̛͎̰͎̬̘̘̩̲͔̏̀́̏̆̒̏̊̌̀̚ͅe̷̡͙̠̙̝͉̝͇̟̣̞̣̱̳͖͊̌͆̔͆͆̉a̶̲͓̤͖̦̅̿̀v̵͇̝̫̫̫̲̎̍ȩ̸̜̞̗͖͓͚̻͙͓̰͙̗̤̮̼̖͌̆̿̊̎̄̾̀̍̌̉ He growled out and the man ran as if demons were chasing him

And suddenly as if it never happened it all stopped danny wasn't a tall looming clawed predator he was just danny again danny checking if tracy was ok

[ghostlyglimmer]

Unlikely Roads Chapter 2: Ghosts on Their Tail

Summary:

Danny and his rival, Wes Weston, join forces to escape the GIW. On a tense road trip, they uncover personal truths and forge an unexpected bond while battling both the GIW and their own conflicts.

The motorcycle sputtered as they sped through the darkened streets of Amity Park. Danny kept glancing over his shoulder, scanning the shadows for any sign of the GIW. The quiet hum of the night felt too still, too unnatural, as if the calm itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to go wrong.

“How long until they—” Danny started..

“There!” Wes cut him off, his voice sharp. He pointed ahead at the road just as the faint glimmer of headlights appeared in the distance, followed by the unmistakable silhouette of a black van. The Ghost Investigation Ward had found them.

“Go faster!” Danny shouted, gripping the back of the seat tighter.

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Wes snapped back, twisting the throttle as hard as it would go. The bike roared—well, more like it coughed—but it picked up speed, weaving between the streets as the van behind them surged closer.

Danny’s heart pounded as the van’s sleek, high-tech frame came into clearer view. The GIW wasn’t playing around. Their vehicle was far more advanced than Wes’s rustbucket bike, and it was gaining on them fast.

As if to prove the point, a sudden hum filled the air, followed by a flash of light. The van had deployed a drone, its small frame zipping toward them with alarming speed.

"Great, they've got toys," Danny muttered.

The drone flew overhead, scanning the street below with red, glowing sensors. Danny knew they couldn’t risk being seen, not with cameras everywhere. If his ghost powers showed up on any footage, it’d only make things worse.

“I’ll handle it,” Danny said, already phasing his body into Phantom mode. Wes glanced over his shoulder, eyes widening.

“Wait—don’t you dare—”

But Danny ignored him. His white hair flared into view as he shifted, floating just above the motorcycle. He reached out with one hand, concentrating hard as green energy crackled in his palm. A quick burst of ecto-energy shot toward the drone, scrambling its circuits. The thing fizzled out mid-air and crashed to the ground with a satisfying clunk.

"Got it," Danny said, transforming back before any security cameras could catch the sight.

“Are you insane?” Wes yelled. “They have cameras everywhere! If they catch you using your powers—"

“They’re not catching anything,” Danny snapped. “I took out the drone, didn’t I?”

“Not the point!”

As they rounded another corner, the van swerved sharply behind them, coming dangerously close. Danny cursed under his breath. He wasn’t sure how much longer Wes could keep the bike ahead of the GiW’s gear.

The van lurched forward again, and the back doors swung open. Two agents, clad in their signature white-and-black uniforms, stepped out, hoisting some kind of weapon that looked like a souped-up net launcher.

“They’ve got something,” Danny said, tension running through his voice.

“No kidding!” Wes yelled, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Do something, Phantom! That’s your thing, right?”

Danny scowled. “I am doing something.” He shifted into ghost form again, barely visible in the moonlight. With a quick surge of power, he raised a wall of ectoplasmic energy behind them. The net launcher fired, but the net bounced off harmlessly, the agents cursing in frustration.

“Nice try!” Danny called back.

The wall of energy collapsed just as quickly as it formed, and Danny phased back onto the bike. Wes swerved them into a side street, trying to lose the van on the narrower roads. But the GiW was relentless, their high-tech vehicle navigating the tight turns with ease.

“They’re not giving up,” Wes muttered, breathless. “We’re screwed.”

“We’re not screwed,” Danny said, though he wasn’t entirely sure of that. “We just need to get out of town. They’ll have to back off eventually.”

“Out of town? On this thing?” Wes threw a glance at the sputtering bike beneath them. “We won’t make it five miles before it falls apart.”

“We’ll figure it out!” Danny said, though frustration leaked into his tone. They were running out of time, and options.

A sharp turn later, the van was still close behind, but Danny spotted something—an overpass up ahead, leading to a freeway. It was risky, but if they could lose the GiW there, they might stand a chance of escaping.

“Head for the overpass,” Danny instructed.

Wes didn’t argue this time. He veered onto the ramp, the bike straining under the effort but holding together for now. The van followed, but the narrow incline worked to their advantage. It slowed down just enough for Danny to get an idea.

“Hold on,” Danny said, his eyes narrowing in focus. He phased out of his seat again, flying above the bike as the overpass loomed ahead. With a deep breath, he summoned as much energy as he could muster and let loose a pulse of ectoplasmic force. It shot out like a shockwave, sending debris and rubble from the overpass onto the road below.

The van skidded, its tires screeching as it was forced to stop, unable to navigate the sudden mess. The agents inside shouted in frustration as they were blocked by the debris.

“Ha! Got ‘em,” Danny said, flashing back into his human form just as Wes pulled onto the freeway.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the sound of the GIW’s pursuit faded into the distance. The only noise now was the hum of the bike’s struggling engine and the wind whipping past their faces.

They were free. For now.

But the silence that settled between them was heavy, filled with all the words they hadn’t had time to exchange during the chase. Wes finally pulled into a deserted rest stop on the outskirts of town and killed the engine. The bike gave a pitiful cough before falling silent.

“Okay,” Wes said, sliding off the seat, his voice tight with anger. “What the hell was that?”

Danny climbed off after him, stretching his legs. “I saved our lives. You’re welcome.”

Wes turned on him, his face red with frustration. “Saved our lives? You made this mess in the first place!”

“What are you talking about?” Danny shot back. “I didn’t send the GiW after you. That’s all on you for poking around where you shouldn’t have.”

“I was trying to expose you! To warn people about the real threat! Maybe if you’d been a little more careful with your secret, we wouldn’t be running for our lives right now!”

Danny stepped closer, the anger rising in his chest. “Oh, so it’s my fault the GIW is out there torturing people? You should’ve listened to me about them months ago!”

“I didn’t know it would go this far!” Wes yelled. “I didn’t know they’d come after me like this. But you did, didn’t you? You knew they were capable of this!”

Danny paused, gritting his teeth. Wes wasn’t wrong. He’d always known the GiW was dangerous, more than anyone gave them credit for. But hearing it from Wes stung in a way he hadn’t expected.

“We’re not going to get anywhere blaming each other,” Danny finally muttered, running a hand through his hair. “We need a plan.”

Wes crossed his arms, still fuming but clearly exhausted. “Fine. Plan. What’s your genius idea, Phantom?”

Danny let out a slow breath. “You said your uncle’s place, right? Florida or Alaska?”

“Yeah,” Wes said. “Both are pretty far. But we don’t have a choice. The GiW won’t stop hunting us down unless we get far enough away. And fast.”

Danny frowned. “Florida’s closer, but it’s still a long ride on this junk pile. We could be sitting ducks.”

“So you’d rather Alaska? You know how cold it is up there? And I doubt you have any winter clothes packed.”

Danny shook his head, frustrated. Neither option was great, and with the GIW tailing them, they didn’t have time to waste.

“We don’t have much time,” Danny muttered. “But we’ll have to pick one.”

Wes stared at him, waiting. Danny stared back. It was the last thing either of them wanted, but for now, they were stuck together.

[ghostlyglimmer]

Lockjaw Chapter 4

Summary:

Missing for three weeks, Danny finally escapes, only to be found dead and taken to a funeral home. But death isn’t the end—Danny awakens on the embalming table with his jaw wired shut and terrifying new powers. Disoriented and desperate, he must find his way home, knowing nothing will ever be the same again.

Sam lingered by the school entrance, her heart heavy with the weight of the day ahead. The bell had rung minutes ago, signaling the end of another grueling school day that she barely remembered. She spotted Tucker standing by his car “Betsy”, his usual tech filled messenger bag slung over one shoulder. His face was somber, matching the oppressive gloom that had settled over all of them since Danny's disappearance.

She approached him, her steps slow and deliberate, as if prolonging the moment would somehow ease the pain of what they had to do. Tucker looked up as she neared, his expression softening with concern.

“Jazz texted me,” Sam said, her voice quiet but strained with the effort to keep it steady. “She said Mrs. Fenton just picked up Danny’s belongings from the station. His phone screen’s cracked, but it’s still usable.”

Tucker nodded, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by a somber resolve. “Okay, good. Then the hard drive shouldn’t be damaged. We should be able to save any photos he had pretty easily. Should we head over and get started on the slideshow?”

Sam nodded, her eyes reflecting the pain that her words didn’t convey. “Yeah. Jazz could use the help. It’s… it’s going to be hard for her.”

The drive to FentonWorks was silent, the weight of the task ahead pressing down on them. They both knew that putting together a slideshow for Danny’s memorial meant reliving moments that would be bittersweet at best, excruciating at worst. But they also knew it was something they had to do—for Jazz, for Danny, and for themselves.

When they arrived at the Fenton household, the normally bustling lab and living quarters felt eerily still. Jazz met them at the door, her face pale and drawn, but she managed a small smile of gratitude. “Thanks for coming,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ve got everything set up in the living room.”

Sam and Tucker followed her inside, exchanging a glance that spoke volumes about their shared grief. They entered the living room, where a laptop was set up on the coffee table, Danny’s cracked phone beside it. A box of his belongings sat nearby, items carefully wrapped in evidence bags.

Jazz sat down heavily on the couch, staring at the phone as if it were a lifeline to her brother. “I started going through his photos, but… I just couldn’t.”

“We’ll take care of it, Jazz,” Tucker said softly, sitting down next to her and opening the laptop. He connected Danny’s phone and began the process of transferring the photos and videos. Sam hovered nearby, her eyes scanning the room filled with memories of their time with Danny.

As the images began to populate the screen, a mixture of emotions flooded them—laughter, joy, and the stark reminder of what they’d lost. Pictures of Danny, Sam, and Tucker at the Nasty Burger, at school, and during their countless adventures. Each one was a reminder of how vibrant and full of life Danny had been.

“I’m going to go get some of Danny’s other things,” Jazz murmured, excusing herself from the room. Sam watched her go, a pang of sorrow hitting her. Jazz had always been the strong one, but even she had her limits.

Tucker was about to start organizing the photos into a slideshow when Danny’s phone buzzed, startling them both. They exchanged confused glances.

“Who would be texting Danny’s phone now?” Tucker muttered, picking it up. His eyes widened as he read the message that had just come through.

Sam leaned over, her heart skipping a beat. The message was from an unknown number, addressed directly to them.

“Sam, Tucker—it's me, Danny. I need your help. I’m not dead. Meet me at your hideout”

The color drained from Sam’s face as she grabbed the phone from Tucker, rereading the text to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. “This… this has to be a joke, right? Some sort of prank?”

But as she stared at the message, something in her gut told her this wasn’t a prank. It was too specific, too personal. And the sense of urgency in those words felt too real.

Tucker’s mind was already racing. “What if Danny stole someone’s phone? What if he used it to message us because he couldn’t remember our numbers?”

Sam’s heart pounded in her chest as she considered the possibility. It sounded insane. “We need to find out who sent this. If there’s even a chance that Danny’s alive…”

Tucker nodded, his fingers moving quickly over the keys. “I’ll trace the number, see if we can find out where it came from."

Sam watched as Tucker worked, her mind whirling with questions and a growing hope she didn’t dare let herself believe in just yet. But one thing was certain—they couldn’t ignore the message. If there was even a sliver of a chance that Danny was out there, alive and needing their help, they would do whatever it took to help him.

[ghostlyglimmer]

Lockjaw Chapter 7: Fractured Memories

Summary:

Missing for three weeks, Danny finally escapes, only to be found dead and taken to a funeral home. But death isn’t the end—Danny awakens on the embalming table with his jaw wired shut and terrifying new powers. Disoriented and desperate, he must find his way home, knowing nothing will ever be the same again.

The drive to FentonWorks was tense and silent, broken only by the occasional rattle of Tucker's car as it sped through the deserted streets of Amity Park. Sam gripped the edge of her seat, her thoughts swirling with a mix of fear and determination. In the back seat, Danny sat motionless, his eyes staring blankly out the window, his mind seemingly lost in a fog of confusion and pain.

Tucker kept his eyes on the road, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. The tension was palpable, the weight of the situation pressing down on all of them. None of them spoke, the gravity of what they were about to do hanging heavy in the air.

As they pulled up in front of FentonWorks, the familiar sight of the Fenton family’s home and laboratory brought a rush of memories—both good and bad. The large, eccentric building with its myriad of ghost-hunting gadgets and neon sign that read "FentonWorks" was a beacon of their childhood, but tonight, it loomed like a fortress of secrets waiting to be uncovered.

Tucker parked the car, and the three of them sat there for a moment, taking in the sight of the building. The lab's windows were dark, and the only light came from the dim glow of the streetlamp outside. The place looked deserted, but they knew better. Jack and Maddie Fenton were likely deep in their research, oblivious to the world outside.

Sam turned to Danny, who was still staring out the window, his face unreadable. She placed a hand on his arm, hoping to offer some comfort, though she wasn't sure what to say.

"We're here," she said softly. "We'll figure this out, Danny. I promise."

Danny nodded slowly, his eyes flickering with a mix of emotions—relief, fear, and something else she couldn’t quite place. He reached for the door handle and stepped out of the car, his movements still slow and deliberate, as if every step took a monumental effort.

Tucker followed, glancing around nervously as he exited the car. "We should be careful," he whispered. "If your parents are home, we don’t want them to see us. Not yet, anyway."

Danny nodded in agreement, and the three of them moved quickly and quietly toward the side entrance of the house. Sam led the way, her heart pounding in her chest as she fished out the spare key from its hiding place under a loose brick. With a quick twist, the door creaked open, and they slipped inside, closing it gently behind them.

The interior of FentonWorks was just as chaotic as ever, with scientific equipment scattered across the living room and kitchen. The hum of machines echoed from the lab below, a constant reminder of the Fenton family's unrelenting pursuit of all things supernatural.

Sam led them down the hallway, toward the stairs that descended into the basement lab. As they reached the top of the stairs, she paused, glancing back at Danny and Tucker.

"You two wait here," she whispered. "I’ll check to see if the coast is clear."

Danny nodded, his eyes shadowed with worry, while Tucker gave her a thumbs-up, trying to muster a smile despite the tension. Sam took a deep breath and crept down the stairs.

 She peered around the corner. It was dimly lit, the only light coming from the various monitors and machines scattered throughout the room. The familiar sight of ghost-hunting gadgets, test tubes, and half-finished experiments filled the space. But to her relief, there was no sign of Jack or Maddie.

She quickly turned and motioned for Danny and Tucker to follow her. They descended the stairs as quietly as they could, their eyes wide with apprehension. Danny’s gaze roamed over the lab, a look of recognition mixed with confusion crossing his face as he took in the familiar surroundings.

"We should start with the computer," Tucker whispered, nodding toward the large console in the center of the room. "If there’s anything on there about what happened to Danny, it would be in the lab's database."

Danny moved toward the console, his hands trembling slightly as he sat down at the keyboard. His fingers hovered over the keys for a moment before he began typing, his movements slow and deliberate. Sam and Tucker watched over his shoulder, their eyes scanning the screen as lines of code and files flashed by.

After a few minutes, Danny found what he was looking for—a series of files labeled with dates that corresponded to the time around his disappearance. He clicked on one of the files, and a series of video logs appeared on the screen, each labeled with a different experiment number.

Tucker leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing as he read the titles. "These must be your parents' records of their experiments. Maybe they were working on something when… you know."

Danny shook his head, then typed out a correction on the screen: "GIW."

Sam and Tucker exchanged a glance, their expressions shifting from confusion to horror. The Ghost Investigation Ward, or GIW, was infamous in Amity Park. The agency was known for its brutal, unethical methods, and the rumors of secret experiments had always circulated among those who were aware of their activities. His parents were lead scientists on their Ghost Investigation sector.

Tucker swallowed hard, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he navigated through the files. Sure enough, the next video log wasn’t labeled under the FentonWorks database. Instead, it bore the insignia of the GIW, and the file name was chilling: "Subject 234: Phase One."

Tucker hesitated before clicking on the video. The screen flickered to life, revealing a sterile, brightly lit lab—nothing like the cluttered, homey chaos of FentonWorks. The room was stark and clinical, filled with rows of surgical tools, advanced technology, and containment units.

Danny’s breath caught in his throat as the scene unfolded. The camera showed the GIW agents standing around a large, metallic table. Strapped to the table was none other than Danny himself, unconscious and dressed in a white hospital gown. His parents were nowhere to be seen. Instead, a team of doctors and scientists in white lab coats were preparing for what was clearly an experiment—on him.

The lead scientist, a tall, severe-looking woman, approached the table, her face hidden behind a surgical mask. "Subject 234 is prepped and ready for phase one," she said in a cold, clinical tone. "Begin the procedure."

The video cut to a close-up of Danny’s face as he slowly regained consciousness, his eyes fluttering open in confusion. His panic was palpable as he realized where he was and what was happening. He struggled against the restraints, but they held firm.

"Vital signs are stable," another voice said off-camera. "Administering ectoplasmic infusion."

The next moments were a blur of flashing lights, machines humming to life, and Danny’s muffled cries as the procedure began. The camera recorded every agonizing second—the injection of a glowing green substance into his veins, the convulsions that wracked his body as the ectoplasm took hold, the way his eyes glowed an eerie, unnatural green.

The video ended abruptly, leaving Sam and Tucker staring at the screen in stunned silence. Danny sat back in the chair, his breathing ragged, his eyes wide with fear and disbelief. The memories were flooding back now—painful, disjointed images of the GIW base, the sterile lab, the cold, detached voices of the scientists.

Sam’s hand flew to her mouth as she processed what she had just seen. "Danny… they did this to you. They turned you into… whatever you are now."

Tucker shook his head in disbelief. "They used you as a test subject… like you were some kind of lab rat."

Danny nodded slowly, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. He could remember sneaking into the restricted area of the GIW base, curious about the rumors he had heard, it was easy since his parents had full clearance of the place. He remembered being caught by the agents and dragged into that cold, sterile lab. And he remembered the pain—the searing, all-consuming pain as the ectoplasm was forced into his body, changing him on a fundamental level.

But there was more. He knew there had to be more. He needed to know what had happened after the experiment, how he had ended up back in Amity Park, and why he was… different.

He reached for the keyboard again, his fingers trembling as he typed out the next question: "Where is the rest?"

Tucker’s hands shook as he navigated through the remaining files, searching for answers. But as he opened the next video log, the screen filled with static, and a red warning message flashed across the screen: 

Ａｃｃｅｓｓ Ｄｅｎｉｅｄ． 

Ｃｌａｓｓｉｆｉｅｄ Ｉｎｆｏｒｍａｔｉｏｎ． 

Ａｕｔｈｏｒｉｚａｔｉｏｎ Ｒｅｑｕｉｒｅｄ

Danny slammed his fist against the desk in frustration, the sound echoing through the lab. His mind was racing with a thousand questions, but the answers were just out of reach.

Sam placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, her voice soft and soothing. "We’ll find out, Danny. We’ll figure out what they did to you and how to fix this. We’re not going to let them get away with this."

Tucker nodded in agreement, his expression grim. "We need to get that authorization somehow. I’ll try my best to try to hack into this, but I have a feeling they have this stuff locked down pretty tight. We might have to go to your parents.."

Danny nodded, his resolve hardening. He wasn’t going to stop until he had all the answers, until he knew exactly what the GIW had done to him and why. But for now, they needed to regroup, to figure out their next move.

He reached for the keyboard one last time, typing out a single phrase: "Thank you."

[ghostlyglimmer]

This prompt was too good to not whip something up! Dash Baxter leaned against the lockers, arms crossed as his sneer curled up at the edges. "What’s wrong, Fenton? Did your friends ghost you? Guess they finally realized you're as much of a loser as everyone else thinks." Normally, Danny would have fired back with some sarcastic quip, probably something about how Dash's brainpower was more ghostly than anything else in Amity Park. But today was different. The words just hit him, sinking deeper than usual. His hands tightened into fists, his shoulders tensing. Then… nothing. Just silence. Danny's blank expression made Dash pause. Normally, Danny would already be groaning, rolling his eyes, or mouthing off. Instead, Danny’s face stayed completely flat. Dash stared at him, trying to figure out why it felt so wrong. "You gonna say something, Fenton? Or are you just gonna keep standing there like a freak?" Dash tried again, louder this time, hoping to provoke a reaction. But all that came was a single sniffle. Barely audible, but enough to send ripples through the hallway. Danny’s face crumpled, his eyes shimmering with tears before he completely collapsed into himself. His body hunched forward, and he let out a heart-wrenching sob. His voice cracked as he tried to choke back his emotions, but it only made the tears fall faster. Ugly sobs racked his body, his face contorted, eyes red, and lips trembling. It was the last thing anyone expected. The hallway froze. Students stared in shock at Danny, who always either fought back or acted like nothing could bother him. But now, he was breaking down in the middle of the hallway, raw and vulnerable in front of everyone. Dash took a step back, blinking rapidly, his hands awkwardly hanging at his sides. He looked around, hoping someone else would laugh or make a joke to break the tension, but no one did. "What—what’s wrong with you?" Dash muttered, his voice weak now, unsure. "I didn’t mean—I mean, c’mon, stop that!" Danny only cried harder, gasping for breath between his sobs. Nearby students exchanged glances, uncomfortable with the scene. Finally, Star stepped forward, her usual cool demeanor replaced by genuine concern. “Dash, stop. He’s had enough.” “What? He’s just being dramatic,” Dash protested, but his voice wavered. His confidence was gone, replaced by an awkward shuffle as he looked around helplessly. “Maybe he wouldn’t be crying if you didn’t push him so far every day,” Kwan added, his face serious. “Back off, dude.” Slowly, more voices joined in. “You’re always picking on him,” Paulina said, arms crossed. “Maybe you’re the one with the problem, not him.” “You’re such a jerk, Dash,” someone else muttered from the crowd. “Leave him alone!” another voice rang out. Dash looked around, panic setting in as he realized the usual crowd that supported him wasn’t with him this time. People were staring at him with glares, not laughter. He took another step back, his mouth dry. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean for this—” But it was too late. A few students hurried over to Danny, placing tentative hands on his shoulders. Valerie Gray knelt down beside him, her expression softening. “Hey, Fenton… it’s okay. You’re okay.” Danny, still sobbing, tried to form words but couldn’t. His shoulders shook, and he wiped at his eyes with trembling hands. “I—I didn’t—” he started, but his voice cracked again. “You don’t have to explain anything,” Valerie said quietly. “We’re here.” The crowd shifted, murmuring in agreement. Some students shot glares at Dash, others just turned away from the scene entirely, but one thing was clear—Danny wasn’t alone in this. Dash looked at the crowd, unsure of what to do, before finally muttering, “Whatever,” under his breath and slinking away. His face was flushed with embarrassment, and for the first time in a long time, he felt completely out of place. As Danny’s sobs began to slow, Valerie and a few others helped him up. Tucker and Sam appeared from the crowd, hurrying to his side. “We’ve got you,” Sam whispered, wrapping her arms around him protectively. Tucker nodded, giving Danny a supportive clap on the back. The rest of the students watched as Danny, still trembling but no longer alone, walked out of the hallway surrounded by friends—true friends. Even if they didn’t know it, they had just done something they had done for Phantom countless times before: they stood up for him. But this time, they did it for Danny.

Dash bullying Danny and Danny is just staring blankly before sniffling once and absolutely breaking into sobs. Ugly face scrunch and all. Danny normally just takes it or snarks back, so this is very unusual. Dash freaking out, Danny’s still sobbing, people are staring, the bully doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions let alone someone else’s. Other students (finally) actually standing up for Danny because it’s obvious he’s been pushed too far.

Other students rally for Phantom a lot, let them help Fenton at times.

[ghostlyglimmer]

Lockjaw

Chapter 6: Echoes in the Observatory

Summary:

Missing for three weeks, Danny finally escapes, only to be found dead and taken to a funeral home. But death isn’t the end—Danny awakens on the embalming table with his jaw wired shut and terrifying new powers. Disoriented and desperate, he must find his way home, knowing nothing will ever be the same again.

The air was thick with tension, and every sound seemed amplified—the creaking of the floorboards under their feet, the rustling of leaves outside, and the occasional distant hoot of an owl. The observatory, once their sanctuary, now felt like a place of deep unease.

Tucker took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. "Okay, Danny. We’re here. We’ll figure this out together."

Danny gave them a grateful nod and then motioned for them to follow him. He led them to the center of the observatory, where the large telescope still stood, covered in dust and cobwebs. The sight of the familiar equipment brought a wave of nostalgia, but the gravity of the situation quickly pulled them back to the present.

Danny pointed to a small pile of objects on the floor near the base of the telescope. Among the items were a few old notebooks, some loose papers, and a tattered backpack that looked like it had been hastily stuffed with belongings.

Sam knelt down and carefully picked up one of the notebooks. She flipped through the pages, seeing diagrams, notes, and equations scrawled in Danny’s distinctive handwriting. "This is your stuff, isn’t it? From before…?"

Danny nodded, his eyes clouded with confusion. He pointed to the backpack and then gestured to the surroundings, as if trying to explain something.

Tucker crouched beside Sam, his brow furrowed in concentration. "You don’t remember how you got here, right?" he asked, piecing together what Danny was trying to convey.

Danny shook his head, frustration evident in his expression. He mimed being chased and then pointed to his head, as if indicating he’d hit something.

"You were running from something," Sam guessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "And then… you don’t remember what happened next?"

Danny nodded again, his eyes pleading for understanding.

Sam felt a chill run down her spine. The thought of Danny being chased, injured, and somehow ending up in this state was terrifying. She clenched her fists, determined to help him, no matter how frightening or confusing the situation was.

Tucker looked around the room, his eyes narrowing as he considered their options. "We need to figure out who—or what—did this to you. And we need to find a safe place where you can stay while we get to the bottom of this."

Sam and Tucker exchanged a glance. The Fenton family lab was the epicenter of all things paranormal in Amity Park, and if anyone could uncover the truth about what had happened to Danny, it would be his parents.

"Okay," Sam said, her voice firm with resolve. "We’ll go to FentonWorks and see what we can find. But you can’t stay here alone, Danny. It’s not safe."

Danny’s eyes softened, and he nodded in agreement. He pointed to the old backpack and then gestured toward the door, indicating that he was ready to leave with them.

"Let’s get out of here," Tucker said, his voice laced with urgency. "We need to move fast before anyone—or anything—finds us here."

They quickly gathered Danny’s belongings, stuffing the notebooks, papers, and other items into the backpack. Sam handed it to Danny, who slung it over his shoulder with a grimace. Every movement seemed to cause him pain, but he didn’t complain; he simply gave them a determined nod, signaling that he was ready.

The three of them made their way to the observatory’s exit, the tension in the air growing with each step. Sam’s heart pounded in her chest as they reached the rusted gate and stepped back onto the gravel path. The night air was cool against their skin, but it did little to calm their racing minds.

As they hurried back to Tucker’s car, Sam couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. She glanced over her shoulder, but there was nothing behind them—just the darkened outline of the observatory, standing silent and foreboding against the night sky.

They all quickly climbed into "Betsy", Danny squeezing into the back seat with his backpack. The engine roared to life, and they sped away from the observatory, the old building growing smaller in the rearview mirror until it disappeared from sight.

"First stop, FentonWorks," Tucker said, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him. "Let’s see what we can find."

Sam nodded, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. She glanced at Danny in the back seat, his pale face partially obscured by the shadow of his hood. No matter what had happened to him, she knew they would face it together. They were a team, and nothing—not even death—could change that.

As they drove through the quiet streets of Amity Park, the stars above them twinkled like distant eyes, watching their every move. The journey to uncover the truth had just begun, and they had no idea what they would find.

But one thing was certain: they wouldn’t stop until they had all the answers—and until Danny was truly safe again.

[ghostlyglimmer]

About

Hi there I'm Glimmer AKA Ayala

I'm newer to the fandom but have loved the show since I was little. I'm so floored at how amazing everyone has been and I'm so excited to be here!

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[ghostlyglimmer]

Lockjaw

Summary:

Missing for three weeks, Danny finally escapes, only to be found dead and taken to a funeral home. But death isn’t the end—Danny awakens on the embalming table with his jaw wired shut and terrifying new powers. Disoriented and desperate, he must find his way home, knowing nothing will ever be the same again. CW: Gore

Chapter 1: Bring me to Life

By GhostlyGlimmer

Anita Grayves stretched her back, each vertebra popping with a satisfying crack as she exhaled a long sigh. The dim, sterile light of the embalming room cast a clinical glow over her as she donned her PPE, the familiar rustle of the fabric and snap of the gloves a ritual she knew too well. Her technician, Dalton, rolled in the gurney with the next client, the wheels creaking slightly on the cold tile floor. With deliberate care, he unzipped the black body bag, revealing the still form inside.

Danny Fenton, just seventeen years old, lay before her. His once vibrant eyes, now milky white and clouded, stared unseeingly at the ceiling. The raven-black hair that had probably once been meticulously styled was now disheveled, a sharp contrast to the pallor of his skin. He was small for his age, almost fragile-looking, and Anita couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow as she gazed down at him.

But it was the Y-shaped scar on his chest that made her pause. Her brow furrowed in deep thought. She had seen countless autopsy scars in her career, but this was different. The coroner’s report had mentioned it wasn’t a typical dissection; it was a vivisection. The word sent a chill down her spine. She had heard stories, whispers of unsanctioned procedures, but she never thought she’d be the one to witness the aftermath.

Taking a deep breath, Anita began the embalming process. The familiar hum of the pump filled the room as she attached the trocar to his abdomen, starting the slow, methodical draining of blood from the body. The crimson fluid seeped out, replaced with embalming chemicals that would preserve what remained, ensuring the semblance of life for his final viewing.

With the embalming fluids circulating, she moved on to setting his face. It was important that he looked peaceful, almost as if he were merely sleeping. She began with his mouth, loading the needle injector with a barbed-tipped wire. The tool clicked as she pressed it against the maxilla, the wire piercing through the bone with precision. She repeated the process with the mandible, then twisted the wires together, securing his jaw in place. There would be no risk of it coming loose during the funeral, sparing his family the distress of seeing him slack-jawed in the casket.

Next were his eyes. Anita carefully pulled back his eyelids, reaching for the eye caps—small, clear discs with barbed spikes on the inside. They would help his eyes maintain a natural, slightly closed appearance, preventing the sunken look that so often accompanied death. She was inches away from placing them on his clouded eyes when her stomach let out a loud grumble.

“Damn it,” she muttered, the sudden urge reminding her of the coffee she had downed earlier.

Reluctantly, she pushed back her rolling chair, the casters scraping against the tile. She stripped off her PPE, each piece coming off with a practiced flick, and headed for the bathroom. The small, clinical space echoed with the sound of her footsteps as she entered, the door clicking shut behind her. She hurried through her business, then paused at the sink, methodically scrubbing her hands. As she looked up into the mirror, her reflection stared back at her—haggard, with dark circles etched under her tired eyes. She grimaced, making a mental note to try and get some sleep tonight.

Just as she turned off the faucet, the lights flickered, followed by a low, otherworldly groan that seemed to reverberate through the walls. Anita froze, her heart skipping a beat. It was a sound unlike anything she had heard before—something between a wail and a whisper, as if the air itself was being torn apart. A chill ran down her spine, and she stood there, paralyzed, staring at her own reflection, waiting for something—anything—to happen.

Ȃ̵̢̡͕̲͍̺̬̩̪̯͖̝̤̱̖̮̼̝͎̭͇̖̥̫̒̈́̔̃̎̄̌̿̍͘̕͝A̵̡̨̙͇͚̥̦͚͙̘̝̤͎͙͒̽̃̒́́͛̉̂͋͝ͅÄ̶̧̨̢̛̛͖̭̠̤͈͈̘͔̣͔̱͇̱̜̯͎͚͍̩͚̺̦̜͑̑̓͂͋͌̄͜͠͠͝Ą̴̧̢̢̧̢̝̱̻̥̹̖͕̦̠̬͙̭̜̣̱͓͚̗̗̬̮̙̤̲͇̟͚̣̜̜̼̹̻̮͇̟̤̹̩̬͕͖̖͙̤́̈́̓́̾ͅͅA̷̧̡̢̨̧̩͙̥̥̘̘͚̞̣̮̣̯̮͔͚͈̤͙̦͈͕͙̣̳̝͈̩͙͇̲̳͈͈͖͙̦̥͈̗̠̖̣̐̇̇̆͒͂͗̃̾̀̆̈́̽͆̆̕̚Ą̷̧̨̥̠̦͙͍̘̬̥̘͕̦͚̫̣̱̤͎̹̰̣̥̰̥̟̘̜̗̪̫̘̤̱̈́́͐̌͛̄̀͆́̓͂͛̈́̇̉͜͝͠Ą̸̢̡̞̻̪͎͔͕̠̗̖͈̲̯͓̜̝̭̼͎̟͕̀̌̀̈́̑̏̑͐́̋̄͌̏́̈́͋̈́̊̋̓̓̀̏̏̀͝͝ͅA̷̧̡̧̧̛̛̠̘̻̮̱̦̠̦̣̫̩̬͚̦̳̮͙͎̞̞̗̮̩̩̪͓̩̻̪̱̰͉̼̮̞͖̒͋͐́͒͗̒̋̑͂̅̎̾̀̓̔̋̇̈́͑̆͐̌͌̑̌̋̅̔͘̕̚͝ͅA̴̛̛̛͙̮͌̌̅̀̊̅́̉̈́͆̅͑̐̏̄͆̈͗̒͐̓́̀͊̆̔̅̄͂͊̃̍̽̈́̊͌̀̿͛̓̈́͗̆̓͋̈̑̚̚͝͠͝͝À̷̢̧̡̢̙̪̰̮̼͙̣̜̭̦̞͓̩̝̣̙͕̞͙̳͇̦͉̼̜̠͈͔̰̺̟̜̳͍͚̥̺̫̈́͛̾̌̊́̿͊̈́̑̓͌̕̕͝ͅA̷̧̨̧̧̧͍̦̖̖̭̪̭̞̦̹͎͈͕̖̮̙͇̪̥̣͕̪̫͓͙̖̜̙͍͉̭̺̘̰̞̰̯͓̔̐̂͋͋̀̓̍̓̉͑̇͊̊̃̈́̌̅͑͆̍̑̋͑̍̔̂̒̀͗͌̇̂̆̈́̂́̈́̉̀͗́̐͛̇͆̂̀͂̔͐͛́̈́̉̃̕͘͝͝͝͝ͅĄ̷̥̗͕̙͍̭̠̮́̈̀͗̈̏̅̓̓̄̈͆̄̈́̃̌͒̓͑͐̉̔̉́͗̌̍͆́̍̆̕̚͘͜͝A̷̧̙͓̫͚͐͐̉̈́̾̍̇́͋̎̆͒̆͒̋̌̕Ą̵̨̡̧̧̢̢͓̯̤̹͙̘͈̹̭̥̪̬͕̜̦̠̻͓̫̤͈̜̣̲͙̬̦̣̺̖̞̗͎̙̙̩̯͍̱̥̝̖̅̀̋͊̇̉̔̈́̈́͗̇͗̈́͋̇̆͐͌̽̓̾̀��̀̏͒̑̉̔͂̚͜͜͜ͅͅA̸̧̡̨̡̢̻̜͓͚͖̞͚̜̞̙̻̥̠̞̰͔̠̗͎̝̖͇̳̎̀̄̌̒̓͒̐̎̚͠Ạ̴̧̢̫̣̻̬̮̙̫̯̪̙̻͈̟̪̳̅͆͗̌̓̒̍͗̅͊́̏̃͐͑̃́͆̒̍̓̍̈̔͑̾̽̽̐͗̂̑̋́͌̚̕͝͠͠͠Å̵̧̨̢̡̛̯̻̬̻͈̩̹̜͓͎̣̜̥͔̜̩̟̞͓͓̠̬̬̟̜͓͓̲̻͚̟̦͇͓̰͕̲̝̳̺͕̝̭̣͕͈̥̲̪͎͎̻̟͚̖̋͋̀̋́́̊̎̐̀͊̑̊̾̓̈͛͒̄̊̀̕̚͜͠͝ͅͅA̶̛̛͕͈̻̺̲̤̳̖̋̓̀͋́͗̀͒̃̈́̉̅̉̉͑͑̋̅̃͒̎͋̎̏́̓͌̆͋ͅȦ̵͖̪̘͛̋͒͠͝ͅĄ̴̧̨̢̛̦̱̦̺̩̞̟̲̻̬͈̪̖̬̯̝̝̲̰̣̩̯̫͈̫̪̜̳͇̮͖̪̱̠̹̤̰͓̭͕̥̹̣̀̅̉̒̃̽͊̆̊̈́̄̐͌́̓̾̓̍̌͑̓͌͊̾̊̂͒͌̀̔͒̕͘͘͘͜͜͝͠͝ͅÄ̶̢̢̱̯̰̟̙͇͔̰̗̜̦̤̪̟̞̪͍̞̟̠̰̗̬̖͎͓̰̫́̈́̊̈́̒A̷̧̢̢̛̹͇̩͎͎̥̱͔͉̞͍͕̠̮͔̭̪͔̜̜̘̰̞͇̱̙͖̮̞̖͉͚̯̟͙̞̫̭͔̰̞͙̗̱̹̺̰͖̭̮͚̪̩͒͑̽̉̋̔͗͗̃̊̀̽̾̿̒̍͗͑̇̅̒͛̈́́̍̿̒̾̊͋́̃̃̈́͂̔̀͐̿̆͌̑̐̀̚͜͝͠ͅͅA̴̡̢̢̧̡̧̛̯͔̭̝̪̰̳̭͚̗̣̼͕̗̟͈͔̩͖̪̖̪͈̝͉̭̭̝̳̘̠̬̩̰̳̳͍̘̫̪̓̀̾̉́̿͂̓̾̎́͐͑̄̉̿̈̍̅̎̏̈́̓͘͝͝͝͠͠͠͠ͅA̶̙͇͎̤̓̿͗́̄̔̆͋̋͆̒̔͐́̽̄͒̎̏͛̂̅̒̋̽̈̋͂͐͐̎̅̌̋̾͑͌͋͐͘̕̕͝͝Ḁ̶̧̡̨̡̢̛̛̰̫̰͓͍̥̝̤̤͕̟̬͕̺͔̻̯̗̠̺̯̬̲̠̳̗͇͇̖̳̙͈͖͕͚͖̖̟̻͉̼̈̈͆̉͊̃̐́̎̊̌́̆̓͆̈̉́̅̆͌͐̽͌̀͒̽̌̿͐̀̽̈́́͋̑̕͘̚͜͜͠͝͝͠ͅA̷̡̨̢̛͕̟̜̰̼͔̠͉͈̼̫͚̟͈̻̖͛̍̍̇̑̐̓̓̀͠Ą̷̱̲̱̳̦͔̥̼̠͕̠̟͎̣̘̮͉̖̗̙̗̞̣̟̈́̾̽̿̍͌̚͘͜͠A̴̡̛̹̗̥̯͇̥̙̣̙̜̰̪̰̘͈͐̌̃̓̌̾̿̃̈͒͋̃̐͒̔̍̈́̓͑̓́̔̔̒͂̐̉̀͋͆͌͂̾͘͘͝͝͠͠Ā̶̡̛̛̖̳̟͕͖̻̲͓̦͈͓͚͈̺͍͙̲̗̒̐̍̂̆͋̈̃͑̽̉̓̃̇͘Ą̴̨̛̣͓̞̪̱̰̜͂̏̀̆͒̀̿͆̑͊̿̈́̑͋̀̌̾̀̈́̾̽̈̈́͐͊̀̒̈́̇͒̈́̀̐̌͒͋͌͊̉̂͒̄̒̇̇̐̕͘͘͘͠͝͝͝͝͝Ā̷̛̛̬͙̠͉̰̼̼̦͉͕̤͈͙̯̈́̿̅̊̋̽̈́̓͌̈́̏͋̍͌͑̆́̄̂̍̿̉̑̈́͊̀͐̈́͋́͆̌̉̀̔̂̍̍̾́̔̕̚̕̕͜͜͝͝A̷̡̧̡̢̨̡̡̢̢̘͉̭̠̖͈̠̭̖̞̭̞͎̤͚͕͔͖͚͇͇̯̟̝̪̖̦͙͙͇̳̪̼̮̫̥̲̲̙͔̟̭͈̺̺͚̬̱͓̠͒̎́̒͐͋͒͂̍̈́̅̐̇͜͜͠Ą̷̢̡̢̢̛̲̝͉͓̺͉̣͇͖̺̜̝̗̹̥̩͎͔͕̦͉͍̜͉͔̫̟̥͓̯̬̖̣͙͍̭͇͔̱̺͈͈̱͗̓̽̒̐͂̓̿͒͊̓̌̅̈́̉̅̓̎̈́̎͗̈́̍̌̒̂̈́̋̐͋̓̆́́̈̇̂͐̔͘̕͝͝A̴̢̡̛̭͈̺̥͇͓̟̻͔̪͇̝̰̱̮͇̦͕̞͙̘̤̻̺̐̎̇̉̓́̐͂́̀͌̽̋̒̀̋͊̀̾͒̓̇̽̂́͛̓̀̓̄̉́̅̀̾͒͌̈́̐͐̑̈́͒́̌̈́̿̽̾̃̽̀͋͛͘͜À̶̡̧̧̨̨̛̛̮̹͓̥̠̱̱̯̪̹̹̮̳͔̞̫̗̹̘͙͙̝̘̳̠̠̳̱̺̗̳̬̰̤̩̖͙̬̥͔̬͈̭̳̬̻̼̐̎͌͆̎̈́̀͆͌̒̅̾͂̋̍̏̈́͛͆̓̊͐͊̄̀̂͐̽̓̍͊͆̚̚̕͜͠͠͝͝Ą̷̧̛̛̛̛͈͖̞͓̱̦̬̣̭̗͍̤̣̦̯̪̹̘̟̙͈̼̬͑̿͊̈͑͛͒͗̑̀͆̏̒̓̃̊̏̐̉̿̄͒̂͛̈̀̂̈͋̀͗̃̆̏̾̏͐̂͂̊̈́̏̐̉͆̂̍̓̚͘̚͘̕͝͝͝͝ͅͅÁ̴̡̢̧̢̩̰͔̰͈͖̬̯̱̙̱̣̭̟͇͙̦̭̣̱͉͇͚̗͌͋͘͜Ä̵̧̛̝̘̼͇̬̭̼̬̠̞̩̩̜̤̰͙͔̼̬̟̟̫͓̥͇̱͕̦̜͙͚̪͚̩̱̟̗̥͙͇̩̞̬̞̗̥̻̘͓̹̻̰̫̙̯̗̹̹́̐͐̎̇̿͗̊͂̏́̂̋̀͆̆̾̄͑͑̽̌̈́̄͋͋̈̂̆̐̀́͌́̎̋̅͘͜͝͝͝͝͠ͅA̷̧̢̡͇̣͈̥̻̗͓͈͖͔̭̩̪͎͍̻̥̝͈̝̭̤͍̘̺̥̲͉̰̦͓̫͇͓͙͙̣̼̫͇͛̋͒͐̄́̔̓͐̅͒͆̏̅̎̇́̚̚͜͜͜ͅ

Anita jolted at the horrific sound, the air around her vibrating with an unnatural, bone-chilling resonance. Her hands flew to her ears in a desperate attempt to block out the noise, but it was too late. A searing pain shot through her head, her vision darkening as her eyes rolled back. She crumpled to the cold, sterile floor, her body limp, blood trickling from her ears and pooling beneath her head in a dark, crimson stain.

Meanwhile, Danny Fenton’s eyes shot open in terror. His pupils contracted painfully against the blinding fluorescence of the room, his breath catching in his throat. His mind, sluggish and disoriented, struggled to make sense of what was happening. His hands moved instinctively to his face, rubbing his eyes as if trying to erase a bad dream.

But this was no dream.

As his vision cleared, he looked around, taking in the stark white walls and the cold steel surfaces of the embalming room. The air was thick with the acrid scent of formaldehyde, stinging his nose and making him gag. Panic surged through him as he realized he was completely naked, save for a thin cloth draped haphazardly over his waist.

But it was when his gaze fell on his chest that the true horror set in.

There, etched into his skin, was a large, brutal Y-shaped scar, stretching from his shoulders to his pubic bone. The sight of it made his stomach churn. His face contorted in terror, a scream tearing from his throat, raw and primal. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, each one more desperate than the last, as he clutched his head in his hands, trying to comprehend the impossible. The room seemed to close in around him, the sterile environment suffocating, the silence after his scream deafening.

Danny was alive—but something was horribly, irrevocably wrong.

Ȃ̵̢̡͕̲͍̺̬̩̪̯͖̝̤̱̖̮̼̝͎̭͇̖̥̫̒̈́̔̃̎̄̌̿̍͘̕͝A̵̡̨̙͇͚̥̦͚͙̘̝̤͎͙͒̽̃̒́́͛̉̂͋͝ͅÄ̶̧̨̢̛̛͖̭̠̤͈͈̘͔̣͔̱͇̱̜̯͎͚͍̩͚̺̦̜͑̑̓͂͋͌̄͜͠͠͝Ą̴̧̢̢̧̢̝̱̻̥̹̖͕̦̠̬͙̭̜̣̱͓͚̗̗̬̮̙̤̲͇̟͚̣̜̜̼̹̻̮͇̟̤̹̩̬͕͖̖͙̤́̈́̓́̾ͅͅA̷̧̡̢̨̧̩͙̥̥̘̘͚̞̣̮̣̯̮͔͚͈̤͙̦͈͕͙̣̳̝͈̩͙͇̲̳͈͈͖͙̦̥͈̗̠̖̣̐̇̇̆͒͂͗̃̾̀̆̈́̽͆̆̕̚Ą̷̧̨̥̠̦͙͍̘̬̥̘͕̦͚̫̣̱̤͎̹̰̣̥̰̥̟̘̜̗̪̫̘̤̱̈́́͐̌͛̄̀͆́̓͂͛̈́̇̉͜͝͠Ą̸̢̡̞̻̪͎͔͕̠̗̖͈̲̯͓̜̝̭̼͎̟͕̀̌̀̈́̑̏̑͐́̋̄͌̏́̈́͋̈́̊̋̓̓̀̏̏̀͝͝ͅA̷̧̡̧̧̛̛̠̘̻̮̱̦̠̦̣̫̩̬͚̦̳̮͙͎̞̞̗̮̩̩̪͓̩̻̪̱̰͉̼̮̞͖̒͋͐́͒͗̒̋̑͂̅̎̾̀̓̔̋̇̈́͑̆͐̌͌̑̌̋̅̔͘̕̚͝ͅA̴̛̛̛͙̮͌̌̅̀̊̅́̉̈́͆̅͑̐̏̄͆̈͗̒͐̓́̀͊̆̔̅̄͂͊̃̍̽̈́̊͌̀̿͛̓̈́͗̆̓͋̈̑̚̚͝͠͝͝À̷̢̧̡̢̙̪̰̮̼͙̣̜̭̦̞͓̩̝̣̙͕̞͙̳͇̦͉̼̜̠͈͔̰̺̟̜̳͍͚̥̺̫̈́͛̾̌̊́̿͊̈́̑̓͌̕̕͝ͅA̷̧̨̧̧̧͍̦̖̖̭̪̭̞̦̹͎͈͕̖̮̙͇̪̥̣͕̪̫͓͙̖̜̙͍͉̭̺̘̰̞̰̯͓̔̐̂͋͋̀̓̍̓̉͑̇͊̊̃̈́̌̅͑͆̍̑̋͑̍̔̂̒̀͗͌̇̂̆̈́̂́̈́̉̀͗́̐͛̇͆̂̀͂̔͐͛́̈́̉̃̕͘͝͝͝͝ͅĄ̷̥̗͕̙͍̭̠̮́̈̀͗̈̏̅̓̓̄̈͆̄̈́̃̌͒̓͑͐̉̔̉́͗̌̍͆́̍̆̕̚͘͜͝A̷̧̙͓̫͚͐͐̉̈́̾̍̇́͋̎̆͒̆͒̋̌̕Ą̵̨̡̧̧̢̢͓̯̤̹͙̘͈̹̭̥̪̬͕̜̦̠̻͓̫̤͈̜̣̲͙̬̦̣̺̖̞̗͎̙̙̩̯͍̱̥̝̖̅̀̋͊̇̉̔̈́̈́͗̇͗̈́͋̇̆͐͌̽̓̾̀̀̀̏͒̑̉̔͂̚͜͜͜ͅͅA̸̧̡̨̡̢̻̜͓͚͖̞͚̜̞̙̻̥̠̞̰͔̠̗͎̝̖͇̳̎̀̄̌̒̓͒̐̎̚͠Ạ̴̧̢̫̣̻̬̮̙̫̯̪̙̻͈̟̪̳̅͆͗̌̓̒̍͗̅͊́̏̃͐͑̃́͆̒̍̓̍̈̔͑̾̽̽̐͗̂̑̋́͌̚̕͝͠͠͠Å̵̧̨̢̡̛̯̻̬̻͈̩̹̜͓͎̣̜̥͔̜̩̟̞͓͓̠̬̬̟̜͓͓̲̻͚̟̦͇͓̰͕̲̝̳̺͕̝̭̣͕͈̥̲̪͎͎̻̟͚̖̋͋̀̋́́̊̎̐̀͊̑̊̾̓̈͛͒̄̊̀̕̚͜͠͝ͅͅA̶̛̛͕͈̻̺̲̤̳̖̋̓̀͋́͗̀͒̃̈́̉̅̉̉͑͑̋̅̃͒̎͋̎̏́̓͌̆͋ͅȦ̵͖̪̘͛̋͒͠͝ͅĄ̴̧̨̢̛̦̱̦̺̩̞̟̲̻̬͈̪̖̬̯̝̝̲̰̣̩̯̫͈̫̪̜̳͇̮͖̪̱̠̹̤̰͓̭͕̥̹̣̀̅̉̒̃̽͊̆̊̈́̄̐͌́̓̾̓̍̌͑̓͌͊̾̊̂͒͌̀̔͒̕͘͘͘͜͜͝͠͝ͅÄ̶̢̢̱̯̰̟̙͇͔̰̗̜̦̤̪̟̞̪͍̞̟̠̰̗̬̖͎͓̰̫́̈́̊̈́̒A̷̧̢̢̛̹͇̩͎͎̥̱͔͉̞͍͕̠̮͔̭̪͔̜̜̘̰̞͇̱̙͖̮̞̖͉͚̯̟͙̞̫̭͔̰̞͙̗̱̹̺̰͖̭̮͚̪̩͒͑̽̉̋̔͗͗̃̊̀̽̾̿̒̍͗͑̇̅̒͛̈́́̍̿̒̾̊͋́̃̃̈́͂̔̀͐̿̆͌̑̐̀̚͜͝͠ͅͅA̴̡̢̢̧̡̧̛̯͔̭̝̪̰̳̭͚̗̣̼͕̗̟͈͔̩͖̪̖̪͈̝͉̭̭̝̳̘̠̬̩̰̳̳͍̘̫̪̓̀̾̉́̿͂̓̾̎́͐͑̄̉̿̈̍̅̎̏̈́̓͘͝͝͝͠͠͠͠ͅA̶̙͇͎̤̓̿͗́̄̔̆͋̋͆̒̔͐́̽̄͒̎̏͛̂̅̒̋̽̈̋͂͐͐̎̅̌̋̾͑͌͋͐͘̕̕͝͝Ḁ̶̧̡̨̡̢̛̛̰̫̰͓͍̥̝̤̤͕̟̬͕̺͔̻̯̗̠̺̯̬̲̠̳̗͇͇̖̳̙͈͖͕͚͖̖̟̻͉̼̈̈͆̉͊̃̐́̎̊̌́̆̓͆̈̉́̅̆͌͐̽͌̀͒̽̌̿͐̀̽̈́́͋̑̕͘̚͜͜͠͝͝͠ͅA̷̡̨̢̛͕̟̜̰̼͔̠͉͈̼̫͚̟͈̻̖͛̍̍̇̑̐̓̓̀͠Ą̷̱̲̱̳̦͔̥̼̠͕̠̟͎̣̘̮͉̖̗̙̗̞̣̟̈́̾̽̿̍͌̚͘͜͠A̴̡̛̹̗̥̯͇̥̙̣̙̜̰̪̰̘͈͐̌̃̓̌̾̿̃̈͒͋̃̐͒̔̍̈́̓͑̓́̔̔̒͂̐̉̀͋͆͌͂̾͘͘͝͝͠͠Ā̶̡̛̛̖̳̟͕͖̻̲͓̦͈͓͚͈̺͍͙̲̗̒̐̍̂̆͋̈̃͑̽̉̓̃̇͘Ą̴̨̛̣͓̞̪̱̰̜͂̏̀̆͒̀̿͆̑͊̿̈́̑͋̀̌̾̀̈́̾̽̈̈́͐͊̀̒̈́̇͒̈́̀̐̌͒͋͌͊̉̂͒̄̒̇̇̐̕͘͘͘͠͝͝͝͝͝Ā̷̛̛̬͙̠͉̰̼̼̦͉͕̤͈͙̯̈́̿̅̊̋̽̈́̓͌̈́̏͋̍͌͑̆́̄̂̍̿̉̑̈́͊̀͐̈́͋́͆̌̉̀̔̂̍̍̾́̔̕̚̕̕͜͜͝͝A̷̡̧̡̢̨̡̡̢̢̘͉̭̠̖͈̠̭̖̞̭̞͎̤͚͕͔͖͚͇͇̯̟̝̪̖̦͙͙͇̳̪̼̮̫̥̲̲̙͔̟̭͈̺̺͚̬̱͓̠͒̎́̒͐͋͒͂̍̈́̅̐̇͜͜͠Ą̷̢̡̢̢̛̲̝͉͓̺͉̣͇͖̺̜̝̗̹̥̩͎͔͕̦͉͍̜͉͔̫̟̥͓̯̬̖̣͙͍̭͇͔̱̺͈͈̱͗̓̽̒̐͂̓̿͒͊̓̌̅̈́̉̅̓̎̈́̎͗̈́̍̌̒̂̈́̋̐͋̓̆́́̈̇̂͐̔͘̕͝͝A̴̢̡̛̭͈̺̥͇͓̟̻͔̪͇̝̰̱̮͇̦͕̞͙̘̤̻̺̐̎̇̉̓́̐͂́̀͌̽̋̒̀̋͊̀̾͒̓̇̽̂́͛̓̀̓̄̉́̅̀̾͒͌̈́̐͐̑̈́͒́̌̈́̿̽̾̃̽̀͋͛͘͜À̶̡̧̧̨̨̛̛̮̹͓̥̠̱̱̯̪̹̹̮̳͔̞̫̗̹̘͙͙̝̘̳̠̠̳̱̺̗̳̬̰̤̩̖͙̬̥͔̬͈̭̳̬̻̼̐̎͌͆̎̈́̀͆͌̒̅̾͂̋̍̏̈́͛͆̓̊͐͊̄̀̂͐̽̓̍͊͆̚̚̕͜͠͠͝͝Ą̷̧̛̛̛̛͈͖̞͓̱̦̬̣̭̗͍̤̣̦̯̪̹̘̟̙͈̼̬͑̿͊̈͑͛͒͗̑̀͆̏̒̓̃̊̏̐̉̿̄͒̂͛̈̀̂̈͋̀͗̃̆̏̾̏͐̂͂̊̈́̏̐̉͆̂̍̓̚͘̚͘̕͝͝͝͝ͅͅÁ̴̡̢̧̢̩̰͔̰͈͖̬̯̱̙̱̣̭̟͇͙̦̭̣̱͉͇͚̗͌͋͘͜Ä̵̧̛̝̘̼͇̬̭̼̬̠̞̩̩̜̤̰͙͔̼̬̟̟̫͓̥͇̱͕̦̜͙͚̪͚̩̱̟̗̥͙͇̩̞̬̞̗̥̻̘͓̹̻̰̫̙̯̗̹̹́̐͐̎̇̿͗̊͂̏́̂̋̀͆̆̾̄͑͑̽̌̈́̄͋͋̈̂̆̐̀́͌́̎̋̅͘͜͝͝͝͝͠ͅA̷̧̢̡͇̣͈̥̻̗͓͈͖͔̭̩̪͎͍̻̥̝͈̝̭̤͍̘̺̥̲͉̰̦͓̫͇͓͙͙̣̼̫͇͛̋͒͐̄́̔̓͐̅͒͆̏̅̎̇́̚̚͜͜͜ͅ

As Danny’s scream echoed in the sterile room, he froze, realizing something was terribly wrong with his voice. It wasn’t his voice. It was distorted, hollow, like a death rattle echoing from the depths of a crypt. The sound made his skin crawl, every hair on his body standing on end. It was the kind of voice that belonged to something not of this world—something dead. He slapped his hands over his mouth, horrified, tears welling up in his cloudy white eyes.

He felt something hard under his lips and pulled them open, trembling fingers probing inside his mouth. His breath hitched when he encountered metal wires, woven cruelly through his teeth. Panic surged through him, and he tried to wrench his jaw open, but it wouldn’t budge. A sharp, searing pain shot through his skull, and he winced, the realization of his confinement crashing down on him.

Tears streamed down his face, his entire body quaking with fear and confusion. Sobs wracked his fragile form, the reality of his situation suffocating him. This couldn’t be happening—this had to be a nightmare. What the hell was going on? Why was he connected to this machine? Why was there a grotesque wound carved into his chest? And why, oh God, why was his jaw wired shut?

His mind spiraled, grasping desperately for memories, for anything that could explain this horror. But everything was a blur, a foggy haze that clouded his thoughts. He couldn’t think straight, his head pounding with the effort of trying to piece together the fragments of his shattered memory.

But through the chaos, one thought pierced the fog: he needed help. He needed to find his family, his friends. He clung to the memory of them like a lifeline, the only clear images in his fractured mind. Sam and Tucker—they would know what to do. They had always been there for him, through every strange and terrifying moment of his life. If anyone could help him make sense of this nightmare, it was them. He had to find them. He had to get out of here.