Danny Fenton isn’t dead. And Maddie is grateful for that, as his mother. But, as a scientist, she knows, realistically, he should be dead. Yet here he is, walking around with enough ectoplasmic contamination in his system to kill a grown man ten times, acting like nothing is wrong. What the honest fuck.
Maddie’s first theory is ectocontamination. A severe case. The problem with this theory is that there’s no proof of contamination besides the absurd amount of ectoplasm in Danny’s system. No adverse health effects as far as they can tell. Which is oddーwhen she compares it to her other theories.
Her second theoryーJack’s firstーis possibly low level possession. But, again, Danny shows no signs or symptoms besides his ectoplasmic levels. He can even pass through the Fenton Ghost Shield.
Third? Maybe he isn’t affected as much by ectoplasm and so it just sticks to him without any adverse effects. She did handle samples while pregnant, which wasn’t very good. But, again, the problem here is that the same could be said of Jazz, and she has a perfectly normal level of ectocontamination. And when she had gotten severely contaminated, Jazz fell illーalong with dozens of other students from Casper High.
It is quite literally just Danny.
Danny Fenton is an enigma. Maddie finds herself stuck in this thought loop often. Her son doesn’t even seem to notice the absolutely massive amount of ectoenergy he gives off. Normally, that much would be coming from the deceased victim of contamination or a ghost, not a healthy, living teenager.
And Danny is healthy. Nothing is wrong with him besides that. Which is weird. Well, it’s good that he isn’t dying, but… scientifically impossible. Never before witnessed. An anomaly in the field of paranormal science. A human giving off so much ectoplasmic energy a day, it could fuel a blob ghost, without recharging, for ten years.
Another mystery. How did Danny discover blob ghosts before she or Jack did? Why didn’t he tell them before one wandered out of his room? And why on Earth would he give them such a ridiculous, albeit accurate, name?
Maddie feels like her head is going to explode. She wishes she could justーask. But her son thoroughly avoids any mention of ghosts. Add it to the list. Because that’s what this is becoming. Just a list of odd things about her son that she can’t solve. Her son that should be dead, but against all odds isn’t.
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Obsession
I'm not a complicated woman, I swear.
I'm so boring.
I'm quiet. I live alone. I drink decaf. I file my taxes in January. I majored in art history.
I crochet, goddammit! I crochet cardigans, the most boring kind of sweater! And then I wear them! Like Mister Rogers, aka the plainest person to ever exist.
No one could possibly suspect how deeply weird I am.
I've been perfect. I've never left a browser history. I've never worn blue and red together. I've kept myself as trim as my mom's genes let me. No one's ever caught me watching the movie.
You know... the movie?
You know the movie.
Well, I mean, I guess it's "movies" now, but... I know which one left a violet stain on my soul.
You can't blame me.
Well... you certainly can't, anyway.
If you were me, maxed out on good karma, toeing every line you've ever met, perfectly alone in all the universe... what would you have done differently? What other choice was there?
Never mind how I got the chance. As soon as I found out about it, there was nothing else I could do. Everything I thought I knew about myself fell away. All the safe choices and good behavior just gone, poof, like they never existed. This is my fate, it was made for me.
I was always going to be the one chewing this stick of gum.
In the end, it was like they wanted me to find it.
Dodging through an unlocked door, stealing through low-lit corridors, drawn to it like the heartbeat of the universe.
It's so silly. I know it is. Some stray neutrino passed through my brain as a child, and I watched the wrong movie, and I twisted into whatever it is that I am. All I've wanted is to become something else, and that something is big, and round, and draped in the shreds of the last clothes she'll ever wear.
That last part is really important for reasons I just can't explain. All that matters is that I literally get too big for my britches. I just need to hear that little "pop". That's it.
I can never seem to imagine past that. Regardless, I'm putting the gum to my lips, completely, defiantly unaware of how this will end. It's on my tongue, and the flavor is unreal. I guess they didn't bother with the roast beef or anything. It's just violently fruity. Juicy, and warm, and way too sweet.
A door creaks open. I was so sure I wouldn't be found, but joke's on them. It's too late.
It's a mousy woman woman with huge glasses, wearing a lab coat. She peeks around the door before she enters, like she doesn't want to offend me.
"Oh-" she says.
"Um," I say around a mouthful of juice. "I-"
And then I think, hey, wait, I've made my choice. It doesn't matter how this ends! What's she going to do, save me? I'm in control here! Kind of!
"... um." I say again. Actually, it's hard to talk. I'm swallowing a lot of juice.
She steps all the way into the room.
"Uh, hi," she says, fiddling with her glasses. She looks at me, and then down at her clipboard, and then back to me. "Are you-"
"I'm not spitting it out," I say, before gulping down another burst of juice. I'm starting to feel kinda bloated.
"No, I mean. Um," she says, "sorry, I'm new here, um."
I'm tired of my mouth working so hard, so I make a show of swallowing the gum.
"Oh!" she says, "that was fast," and she makes some sort of mark on her clipboard.
What.
"Um, could you follow me this way, please?" she asks, gesturing toward another door I hadn't noticed. One of those big ones like they have on loading docks that roll upward.
"What?" I ask, reflexively.
She walks over and pushes a big red button on the wall. The door starts lifting.
"Oh, sorry, we can wait if you want," she says, "you'll fit, don't worry."
I start to have a thought, but then my stomach gurgles and I feel like I'm on an elevator going down. I clutch my sides and double over, but... it's getting hard to bend.
"Don't worry," she says again, "it just feels weird, but you'll be okay."
The thought comes back. Someone was expecting this. They're prepared for this.
I look back at the pedestal the gum was resting on. It's already been replaced with another piece.
The worst feeling in the world is thinking you're making a defiant last stand, only to find out that the hill you chose to die on was ready-made for your dramatic exit, and that you'll be asked to leave through the gift shop and pay way too much for the photos they take of you. You know, figuratively.
I have to do something they won't see coming.
I turn around and lunge for the new piece of gum. Or, at least, I try to lunge, but my thighs are filling up and it's getting difficult to move dramatically. Still, I grab it and cram it in my mouth. Might as well be a brat.
"Oh!" she chirps again, and makes another mark on her clipboard. "Wow! So-"
God, I'm feeling so full. I can feel every inch of my clothes pulling taut against my skin. I gave in to temptation and wore a blue top, blue jeans, and a red belt. I couldn't help myself. Now, that belt is starting to dig in, trying to squeeze me in half.
I swallow the new gum, too, and look down at myself. I'm getting pretty big, bulging out around the belt. My shirt is riding up, exposing my swelling blue belly to the cool air. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her make another mark.
I try to touch my growing midsection, but it's getting hard to move my arms. They're filling up too. I feel warm all over now.
"You're blowing up so fast!" she says.
She opens her mouth to say something else, and that's when my belt snaps apart. My equator surges outward, jiggling and sloshing from the violent release.
It feels so, so strange, becoming something completely alien to what you use to be.
That said, it also feels amazing. Swelling bigger and bigger with gushing blueberry juice, bursting out of- wait.
I'm still growing, but besides the belt, everything's still on.
I try to look down again, but all I can see is the blue horizon of my belly. I flap my hands in frustration.
The lady speaks up again. "Since you're likely unable to move by yourself now, may I have your permission to roll you?"
"Um," I say, trying to think. I'm freaking out a little right now. "Uh."
I need this. It's all I've ever really needed. I just need need need to blow up and burst out of my clothes, that's it, and who cares what happens to the blueberry that used to be me.
All I need is to burst one little button and I'm done. I'll have won. Good day, miss.
The problems is, I'm perfectly round now, and my jeans are so, so tight but haven't so much as snapped a stray thread.
"Miss?" she says, "may I roll you away?"
I try to think of something to say, just to stall for a little more time. I'm so close, so so close.
Instead, I break down.
"Please," I beg her, "I'm going to lose my mind if I can't pop this button."
"Hey-" she starts, but I'm in a full-on panic right now.
"I have to, I have to, I don't know if I'll ever get another chance to be a blueberry, and like what if you roll me away and I never get juiced and I'm just stuck like this forever which would be hot but still or like what if this is as big as I can get and it's just impossible like what the fuck who even makes clothes that fit spherical women I knew I should have worn the red ones-"
"-but-"
"And I know what you're thinking! She broke the rules, it doesn't matter what she wants, she's just a blueberry now, blueberries don't want things, they're not even people! She had her chance and she blew it except she couldn't even blow it-"
"Miss! Please," she snaps, and she walks over, reaches up, and pinches my lips closed.
We lock eyes, because where else can I look, and for a moment, I just cry silent blue tears down my puffy cheeks, pouting all the while.
Then she smiles, and says, "I'm a trained professional, Miss. I can help you with that." She lets go, brushes her frizzy hair out of her eyes, and disappears behind me.
I feel her warm little hands on either side of me, like she's trying to give me a weird hug. Then I feel her squeeze into me. It feels startling, she must be way stronger than she looks. The pressure builds more and more, and I can hear her making an adorable little straining noise.
Then, there's a pop, and immediately a sense of relief. I hear a little zipping noise as the fly on my jeans explodes open. I gasp at the sensation.
Finally.
I give a little shudder, releasing the tension I hadn't realized was building the whole time. How Freudian of me, I guess. The oral stage ain't got nothing on this.
"Now then," she says, appearing in front of me again, smiling wider, making yet another mark. "May I please roll you away, Miss?"
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