#impudentmiscengenation

[impudentmiscengenation]

Run.

The pulse was designed to ward ghosts away from the human world by causing them to experience an intense paranoia, prompting them to go back into their world. The project itself had been in progress for nearly 25 years, the GIW had never let the secret experiment outside of the few researchers that were constantly at work on it. After a few years, it’d become sort of a GIW myth.

Except that it wasn’t. And the device was finished. The device would send out pulses all across the Earth to send ghosts fleeing into their own world. At least, that was the original plan. Unfortunately, the lab and its small-level ecto-entities only took them so far. The GIW needed to test it on an area where it would be controlled but also in a place where the results could be clearly seen; Amity Park was the perfect place. An ectoplasmic hot-spot and a small town. The citizens would need to be evacuated for a short period of time, the GIW needed there to be no interference with their experiment, so they could properly calculate the effects of the pulse on higher-level ghosts; just like the kinds that frequented Amity. The higher-up people in the U.S. government agreed that the small town of Amity Park was the perfect place to test the device, because of its frequent haunts-provided the GIW have the townsfolk safely out of the area as the tests were conducted. The civilians would only know what they needed to; that the GIW were going to try and rid their town of ghosts but in order to do so the people needed to be evacuated.

This was why, in a nutshell, the citizens of Amity Park were split into various lines. Children in the middle and elementary schools would be evacuated first with their teachers, then citizens over age 50, followed by adults between the ages of 30-49 (and their children that weren’t elementary-aged yet), and ending with teenagers and young adults ages 14-29 (the children of these young adults evacuated at this time too). The lines were organized further by birthdate.

Unfortunately for April-Born Danny, he was split from his best friends, as his friends had been born months prior; Tucker in the August of the previous year and Sam in February. He was directly after Dash Baxter, of all people. Apparently there was only a couple days between their respective birth-dates, who knew?

He could see his family, along with Sam and Tucker, waiting for him on the sidelines, next to the Assault Vehicle. They’d all already gone through the fun and games and were waiting for Danny to be put in the clear so that they could all leave to the center where they were to be housed until the evacuation was complete and they could resume their lives.

Danny was expecting to be thrust into another line-these guys are seriously obsessed with order, honestly-to wait for this lame experiment to be over (and it was bound to fail, obviously. The GIW don’t have the skill to catch the Box Ghost, let alone create something to prevent ghosts from spending their free time in the human world).

He wasn’t expecting that being deemed ‘fit for travel’ included a scan of ectoplasmic levels in his body. (It made sense after he thought about it; you’d have to get the citizens with a higher potential for ectoplasmic radiation farther away from the pulse to avoid them getting seriously ill, but at the time it all seemed so surreal.) Dash was pronounced clean and Danny found himself backing away. The GIW scientist scoffed at the boy’s fear, not knowing the source. “Relax, kid. It’s just like an x-ray, or a metal detector. Not even that, really. It just looks at any ectoplasmic residue that may or may not have been left behind on you what with all these ghosts infecting your city. Just hold still for a second, it doesn’t hurt.” Danny shook his head and dodged the small device which, indeed, looked like a metal detector that they’d use before boarding an aircraft. “N-No! Get it away from me!” He could tell that there was immediate confusion and utter disbelief at the boy’s reaction. Dash smirked. “Afraid of a little x-ray, Fen-turd?” He quipped as he was led away into the mass of transport-ready civilians. The GIW agent narrowed his eyes before looking at two other agents that were awaiting orders nearby. “Hold him.” The agent ordered and Danny found himself grasped in the hold of two burly men. His blue eyes widened. He was in a rock and a hard place. If he phased through their hold, they’d know; but if he let them scan his ectoplasmic levels-which always was a reflection of his ghost-half’s power level-they’d know as well.

Sam and Tucker were being held back, as well as his sister. “He doesn’t want to be scanned! He’s healthy! Just let him through!” The red-head protested to no avail. The GIW weren’t budging. He was alone. Danny closed his eyes as the scanner passed over him; the machine had barely passed his collarbone when it began making noise. “Mother of… This kid’s off the charts! Wait-” Danny couldn’t breathe and his eyes snapped open, though he couldn’t see much because his panic blurred his vision. “He has a signature! An ectoplasmic core!” The agent stumbled on his feet, dropping the scanner, and the two agents that had been holding the halfa ran away in utter disbelief. Danny shakily backed away, his eyes watering and his heart racing in his chest. Another voice entered the fray from where a separate agent scanned the boy’s supposed signature, only to find out that his colleagues were right and that the kid’s signature was all-too-familiar. “It’s Phantom! The Ghost Kid!” At that exclamation, the stunned silence snapped and GIW agents whipped out ecto-pistols and other various weaponry which they brandished at the horrified teen. His parents were fighting their way through the men to get to him and Danny was wrought with indecision. This indecision only lasted for a moment, however, when the agent closest to him decided to shoot the boy with a burst of energy.

Instincts honed by nightly ghost fights and bullying from Dash, Danny’s eyes glowed a bright green and he used his hand to fling the ecto-blast away. Before he registered what was going on, his ‘defensive mode’ was switched on and Danny found himself in his ghost form and there was a shield in front of him that absorbed the small blasts fired into it.

For a moment, he noticed the looks of shock and horror on the faces of his parents. The looks on his friends’ faces, their parents’ faces, Jazz, Dash, Kwan, Paulina…. Danny gasped at realizing that he was in his ghost form and dropped the shield long enough for a large blast to nail his shoulder. Sam and Tucker were yelling at him to do something. Jazz too. The GIW spat out threats of dissection and painful experiments but Danny found himself deaf to them all. The ectoplasm from his core thrummed in his ears and his shoulder was oozing the glowing green substance, flecks of red blatantly displaying his half-ghost status.

They knew. They all knew.

Danny shook his head and jumped into the air, zipping away back into the town that they were all evacuated from. Knowing the GIW, they wouldn’t delay their planned experiment just because of this revelation-they’d just have to update their databases so that they were searching for Fenton and Phantom. The tears stung his eyes and froze on his face. He made it to his bedroom before he collapsed into his human form, his entire body numb.

He had a few hours, at most, before he’d have to go on the run. To continue running until the day he died. It was a hard pill to swallow. But he managed to pull himself together after twenty minutes of wallowing in self pity. He forced his emotions down, something that Danny had gotten enough practice doing for the past year, and flung his closet door open.

Underneath the floorboards was a simple dark blue backpack. A rather large one but not large enough to be cumbersome. Being almost as paranoid as the rest of his family, Danny had packed the bag full of what he knew he would need if he had to run off. A change of clothes (that he’d never wear in normal circumstances), scissors, a razor, a small bottle of bleach, soap, a small first aid kit, and a one-person tent rolled up and stuck on top of the backpack.

He pulled his wallet off of his bedside table and peeked inside. Twenty-five dollars and seventeen cents. He took everything except the cash out of his wallet-student ID, contact information, everything-and reached deeper under the floorboard in his closet for a few select cards.

If ever he was grateful to have a friend obsessed with technology and hacking, Danny was thanking his lucky a stars now. A fake birth certificate and social security number for a made-up boy that had only ever existed in paper form. Neil Tonne. One of Danny’s brighter moments had been to rip letters from Daniel Fenton to come up with a convincing, if not boring, identity. Shoving the papers into a pocket of the leather wallet, he packed the wallet away into his bag.

He switched forms so he could fly away but he hesitated. Taking one last look around the room, he found a framed picture of his family and friends. Him smiling obliviously along with them in front of Fenton Works. Letting a few tears slip from his toxic green eyes, he gingerly removed the photo from its frame and folded it, zipping it up into his bag as well (his HAZMAT didn’t have pockets, after all). Steeling himself, Danny made himself invisible and flew into the sky, leaving everything behind in a neatly written journal that laid on his bed innocently.

Assuming they didn’t already hate him and reject ever having a son, Danny left the journal to explain everything to his mother and father. The accident, why he kept his secret hidden from them, and recollections from every single battle that he’d ever fought in, including his evil future self. As it happened (well, directly after, in any case), he had written it down in the worn little book. Maybe even if they didn’t read it, Jazz would find it and get some comfort from it.

Pushing all thoughts of the life he was leaving behind him away, Danny sped into the horizon. He didn’t know where he was going, but it was away from Amity Park. Away from Michigan, from the Midwest, hell, maybe even away from the U.S. altogether.

As far away from the GIW as he could get, he would go. And continue going. And going.

If he ran away and didn’t contact his friends or family, the GIW wouldn’t bother them on his whereabouts. They wouldn’t know and the GIW wouldn’t know.

They’ll be safe from the GIW. They don’t care about humans if they don’t have information. Danny chuckled bitterly to himself as he flew over Colorado. Still playing the hero, even when nobody else is left behind to care. The teen let his tears fall freely through the air as he continued to fly at breakneck speed without direction.

Thick woods surrounded him, the sky above was a deep, star-speckled cobalt with the brilliant moon lighting the sky. Danny landed. He could guess that he was somewhere around Ohio, from the signs that he’d passed along the way. Before he found somewhere public, he needed to become a nobody; which is why he had landed near a small lake in the middle of the thick woods. He tossed his backpack off of his sore, chafed shoulders and rifled until he found the bleach, scissors, and razor. It was dark and he needed light for what he was going to do. He conjured a small ball of ectoplasmic energy to hover over him. It wasn’t too bright, so it wouldn’t attract unwanted attention. Sighing heavily and steeling his nerves, Danny studied his reflection in the water. This was the last time he’d see his face. The last night that he’d be Daniel Fenton.

He started on his face first; carefully, he used the razor (while intently staring at his reflection so he wouldn’t mess up) to trim his brows so that they weren’t as thick. Grabbing the scissors, Danny had to confidence-check himself again before he started to cut away the thick locks of black hair until his long and messy hair was short and choppy; his bangs now barely reaching his brows from where they once flopped over his eyes if given the chance. Using his razor, Danny had carefully thinned out a good deal of hair on the sides and back of his head. While he was certainly no beauty major, the teen didn’t think that he looked half bad by the time he deemed himself finished.

Danny shook his head with a shaky sigh; he was really doing this. He’d played the scenarios over and over in his head but it was never real before. It had all been a joke at the time. Nothing that he’d ever have to do. He pulled his shirt and jeans off, leaving him bare but for his plain white boxers. He swallowed down the lump in his throat (they’re just clothes, come on!) and folded the shirt and jeans neatly on the dirt floor before lifting his hand and promptly incinerating them. He grabbed the bleach and shook his head again. He tugged his boxers off and stuck them next to the readied clothes by the backpack. He allowed the small, hovering ball of light to fade. Generously applying the bleach to every last hair on his head, Danny stepped into the freezing October water. If it weren’t for his ice core, he would have had hypothermia. He edged himself further into the cold water until he was at chest level and leaning against a large rock in the lake. His head spun with everything that had happened in just a few hours. He couldn’t feel-no, not yet. He couldn’t break yet; he could worry about his feelings later-now, he had to just… He just had to run.

When he finally pulled himself out of the water, Danny recreated his ball of light and studied his reflection in the stilled lake water. He was shocked to find out just how much a change in hair color and style could do to change someone’s face. His hair was maybe a shade away from Dash’s natural color. Since he had been rather thorough, and had left the bleach in his hair longer than he would have normally preferred, Danny liked to think that the blonde hair with his blue eyes looked almost natural, even with his black eyebrows. After he put his boxers back on, the clothes from his pack were next. A pair of faded, dark blue jeans that were torn in places purposefully to look “stylish” were the first to be yanked over his bare legs. Next came the tight black shirt over his head and with it was a forest green jacket, unzipped to his naval.

Now changed and disguised, the teen carefully cleaned everything up and pushed it all down into his backpack. Every last hair that he could find-everything was incinerated and the char marks were scuffed away to reveal spotless dirt. It was like he was never there. Danny transformed back into his ghost half and took to the air again, his backpack not quite as heavy as the weight of the world that he now carried on his shoulders.

It was when he made it to a place in New York, in the middle of the city with the same name, that he landed again-still invisible. It was somewhere around 5 in the morning. He’d been flying all night but the adrenaline had helped so that Danny hardly felt the true extent of his exhaustion.

He noticed that his face-both of them-were plastered across screens and billboards. He almost panicked before remembering that the face on the television wasn’t really his face anymore, thanks to his own precautions. A hand ran through his trimmed hair to reassure himself.

He sighed quietly and drifted into an empty alley, turning back into his human form. Swallowing down his terror and calming his furiously pounding heart, the boy tentatively started making his way through the streets. Nobody bothered to give the small blonde kid a second glance, often even shoving him out of their way. Danny, through his relief, couldn’t find it in him to be annoyed by the rudeness of the people around him. New confidence in his steps, Danny strode his way around the city, taking in the scene that befell him.

For a moment or two, he was even able to fool himself that he and his family were on a normal vacation. Jazz was at the New York Public Library reading everything she could get her hands on and his parents were studying the local haunts, particularly ones that Bill Murray had visited in the 80’s while filming the movie Ghostbusters, which his dad had long ago deemed a historical documentary of sorts. Danny decided that he liked his delusion and continued his trek through the city, studying the magnificent buildings that laid across the city as far as the eye could see and further. Amity Park was nowhere near as urban as he’d been under the impression that it was. Being in New York City made him feel so… insignificant. And it was wonderful.

The day went by too quickly. Soon, the city was engulfed in darkness. People went home to their loving families and luxury apartments. Others came out and rifled through garbage bins with their shopping carts full of cans and bottles. Sirens, screaming, and gunshots could all be heard in the ghettos where Danny currently was tentatively creeping through-invisible to be safe.

Everything was starting to catch up with him, as it had a tendency of doing. He was tired, hungry, thirsty, and completely alone in a huge city. No family, no friends. For all intents and purposes, Danny Fenton no longer existed. He was Neil Tonne, a nobody who knew nothing about the paranormal. A teen on the run from a life that no longer existed. Steps faltering, the boy swallowed hard and ducked into a dark space in between two buildings and behind a dumpster before collapsing onto his knees. He closed his eyes and let the tears fall. Noiselessly, he cried. The boy let everything out, his shoulders shaking from the effort of trying to stay quiet.

As pathetic as it sounded to his ears, he just wanted his mom to comfort him. He wanted his dad to laugh with over a bowl of ice cream. He wanted Jazz to psychoanalyze everything he said. He wanted to do that horror movie and hot wing marathon with Tucker that they’d put off to hunt ghosts. He wanted to tell Sam that he loved her. He wanted home more than anything in the world. Danny didn’t realize when he’d made the transition from quietly crying to bawling aloud.

He laid down on the ground, the smell of rotting food around him; the sounds of street-fighting, guns, and screaming matches ringing in his ears. A schizophrenic elderly woman hobbled past the alley, hollering about people draining all the metal from inside of the Earth. The teenager clamped his hands over his ears and sobbed harder.

He just wanted to go home.

*5 years later*

Danny couldn’t help but to wonder how much he looked like the people in those advertisements he often used to see on the television. Thin, emaciated bodies with wide eyes begging the more fortunate around to be merciful. Rough, leather-like skin chapped from days of dehydration. Some big-shot celebrity pretending to give a shit for the good publicity.

He knew he probably didn’t look much better, at least. Probably just a good deal paler like the people around him, in London. His hair was back to black but it didn’t seem to matter. He was unrecognizable from the… months? Years? However long he’d been running.

Dangerously thin, especially considering his six foot height that he’d gained over time, along with a broad chest and shoulders. Blue eyes that were lifeless and rimmed in darkness from lack of sleep. Greasy, tangled mass of hair that reached his shoulders. All he had in the way of clothing was a faded pair of dark jeans and an even more worn brown leather jacket that was zipped up if he needed to go anywhere that required a shirt. He was leaning against a brick building located within the fabulous city of London in the UK. It was cold in London now; what month was it, again?

How he’d managed to get this far was beyond him. He could only assume it had something to do with the ghost half inside of him that was becoming more and more difficult to access as he grew weaker.

It was really lucky, in all honestly, that he ended up in England. Even if his Mandarin, Spanish, and French were adequate, English was the one language he knew that he could understand for certain. Not to mention the cold rain felt like the blessed touch of a God against his feverish skin.

The sickness was probably why he couldn’t exactly recall when he had gotten to England, or how really. He wasn’t even sure how long he had been sick, for that matter. The body aches that came in bursts were natural and they often paled in comparison to the constant twisting of his stomach as it begged for sustenance. Danny could even ignore those, having gotten used to it some time ago.

Danny’s dull eyes turned to the right and he took to people-watching. He was quiet about it, but he liked to imagine what their lives were like. This lady was probably a lawyer, with the way her suit was so strict-looking… That young man was either a student-teacher or a newly-hired teacher; either way, he definitely had the ‘must mold young minds’ look about him… That guy was a family man, with a wife and some kids waiting for him wherever he was going.

Most that walked by ignored the fact that he was there. A blight on the good, properly-homed people of society. Those that dared look his way often did so with glares or looks of disgust. How awfully inconvenient for their walk home to have to smell the filth on a homeless teenager.

Such a rude boy he was to be so blatant about his existence.

Danny could feel it in the way that they avoided meeting his eyes. The way that they twitched their noses and quickened their pace. He didn’t mind, really. He knew what a waste of space he was; what a failure he was. The few things that he was supposed to do in Amity Park and he couldn’t do them. Keep his identity a secret and prevent malevolent ghosts from destroying the town he called home.

Ah, home.

What would his parents be doing about now? Cleaning up after dinner, likely. Did they even remember that they had a son? Jazz… would she be at a university by now? He couldn’t tell. Perhaps he didn’t want to be able to tell, he didn’t want to know how much of his own life had been wasted as he took horrid jobs for menial pay unless they wanted to ask questions.

His “Neil Tonne” persona had gone up in flames not even a month after he’d adopted it and began working while using the identity. He’d been caught for who he was because people started to ask questions. He’d answered them, which was the worst thing he could have done. If it hadn’t been for an elderly lady in Amityville, Massachusetts with a heart of gold, he would likely be in the hands of the GIW.

He hated questions so, as long as no questions were asked, he’d take the grunt position that he was given. Often it was cleaning out animal stalls, moving brick and mortar around, and once he was even tasked with breaking concrete slabs with a sledgehammer. That had been his favorite. Good, old-fashioned misplaced aggression taken out on the cold, gray surface of unfeeling concrete.

But he could never stay too long because people asked too many questions. How old are you? Where do you live? Don’t you have a family?

So he would have to leave. Get far away from the questions.

There was often little water for days at a time, and absolutely no food for even longer. If he could find someplace other than underneath a bridge to sleep, he was the luckiest man in the world. When he’d made enough money once, from a particularly difficult construction job, he was even able to get a hot shower with a warm meal and a bottled water. It had been the best day of his wretched, miserable life. Sometimes he wondered if he’d ever get that lucky again. It was unlikely, but he enjoyed relishing in the idea.

He remembered working for shit pay alongside illegal immigrants from Mexico. They had accepted the job for some of the same reasons that he did, and they could relate in more ways than one but at least many of them had wonderful families. His immigrant friends were nice to him and didn’t ask many questions, not that he could answer a whole lot anyway because his Spanish had been meager at the time. They had been the one to teach him how to speak Spanish more fluently; and he also learned quite a few cuss words. They also sang songs and always were kind enough to share some of their lunches that their families had packed for them. A few even offered that Danny stay with them.

But he was wanted by the GIW. The ghost hunters were willing to pay in exchange for him or information on his whereabouts, and Danny knew what the promise of money could do to someone and their steadfast morals. He always had to refuse, despite his heart yearning and tugging at the promise of being part of a family again, even if it wasn’t his own.

Danny let his head fall back, letting the icy rain pelt his scarred face. Opening his mouth, he allowed the cool water to moisten his tongue. It wouldn’t be enough, he knew, to help him much. At least it would stop the more intense burning of his throat. He tossed his jacket aside, though he knew it was unwise to do so. He needed the coolness on his body; not to mention it might help with the filth caked onto his person, might help with the smell that was bothering the other people passing by.

Speaking of which, there actually weren’t many that were out and about; the few people that were outside in this weather were just tourists now, mostly. There was a decent hotel not far away and they were all hobbling back from their exciting activities in “The Old Smoke”. The rain had completely soaked the denim which now clung to his weak legs. Danny blinked slowly, swallowing the water in his mouth before closing it.

The teen knew, in the back of his mind, that this was it. His body was giving out and he knew it. Any urine he’d been able to pass off, with what little water he’d had, was tainted with blood. He was now in constant pain, unable to sleep for more than maybe four hours even though he always felt completely exhausted. He was so tired; he knew that if he relented and closed his eyes that they wouldn’t open again.

But why was he hesitating? What was he waiting for? Closing his eyes meant… release. He wouldn’t have to run anymore. Worry about when his next meal would be. Wonder if his family missed him.

His legs drew close to his chest and his head drooped to rest atop his bony knees. Water rimmed his eyes and the pressure of unshed tears threatened to burst through his careful wall of apathy. But he was dying now. If someone was dying, they were allowed to cry, were they not? He didn’t have to put up anymore farces.

He carefully reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a worn photograph. The ache in his chest flared and Danny gasped slightly. It wasn’t the normal pain that he was able to ignore; this was something so much deeper, something that hurt worse than any kind of sickness or any kind of starvation that he’d ever experienced. He coughed out a choked sob, letting his eyes close and the tears fall freely.

I miss you Mom, Dad. I’m sorry if you’re disappointed in me for what I am… For who I’ve become. I wanted you to be proud of me like you were proud of Jazz. Jazz, I bet you’re doing good about now with how smart you are. Probably graduated now, right? … I’m sorry that I’m not there for you, Jazz, I am. I’m sorry I’ll never be able to see my nieces or nephews. I’m sorry I’ve been such a rotten brother. Brother… Tucker, the closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother. I miss you, man. I wish you could be here and tell me to ‘shake it off’ or something funny like that. Heh, you’d probably tell me to man-up and that my kidneys are just fine; I’m being a wimp. Except you’d be joking because you’d do this while you and Sam dragged me to the hospital to be looked at. Sam… I wonder if you’ve found a boyfriend. Most likely. Hopefully he treats you right; gives you everything you need and anything you want… I still love you, Sam. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…

With his apologies murmured internally, Danny was able to quiet his broken sobs. His head fell back against the brick, his limbs went lax, and he went still.

A blonde boy was grinning ear-to-ear despite the pounding rain. His poncho took care of most of it anyway, keeping him warm and dry. His parents were a few paces ahead, discussing what they wanted to do for tomorrow, their last day before flying back to Michigan. The blonde nineteen year old went along his merry way until he heard a loud splash coming from an alleyway just to his left. Curious, he peered into the alley and, just against the red brick building laid a kid his age. He’d fallen to the side into a puddle. His ribs poked out dangerously from a much too pale chest. His messy mop of black hair clung to his pale, gaunt face with the muddy rain water. The teenager ventured closer with a look of puzzlement. He… He looked familiar. Almost like… But it couldn’t be… He saw a crinkled, torn piece of paper in his hand. It was a… photograph? His eyes widened and he nearly choked on air as he realized the identity of the boy laying in the cold mud.

“Is that-? No… Fenton? Fenton?! O-Oh my god! I-I found-! Mom!”

[impudentmiscengenation]

The List

Since the portal accident when he was fourteen, he’d been keeping a record of all ghostly abilities that he exhibited as well as a short explanation of each power. At age fifteen, with everything that had happened and continued to happen, Danny was still just as confused about his ghost-half as he had been a year previously.

Maddie and Jack had offered to analyze his notes to determine whether or not his abilities were finite or if they would continue to grow along with him, which Danny had refused at first. When Danny discovered that he was continuing to add to his ever-growing and ever-changing list of powers, the boy consented to letting his parents look at his recordings. His only question was: “Am I finished getting new powers, or should I expect more?”

This was why both adults were slack-jawed in their lab, Danny and Jazz upstairs with their own business to attend to, staring at the expanse of paper before them. This was his latest, most recently revised list and it was more than impressive; organized by the amount of energy spent on each ability.

Accelerated Healing - The title underestimates the actual ability. Mortal wounds become not-so-mortal when in ghost form, unless the central-core energy is specifically targeted to be harmed or weakened. When in ghost form and with enough energy, anything but complete disintegration would bring me little (real) harm. In human form, I can tap into these healing abilities to a lesser extent of my ghost self. (Energy Drain - Instinctual)

Enhanced Sensation - All of my five senses are much more sensitive. (Energy Drain - Instinctual)

Ecto-Location (Ghost Sense) - When a ghost is nearby, a cold puff of air from my core is sent out (usually through my mouth). If I focus just slightly, I can also determine the ecto-signature of the particular ghost (provided they are familiar to me, i.e. Skulker, Box Ghost, etc.…) (Energy Drain - Instinctual) Invisibility - Manipulating both myself and the light around me, I can make it so I am unable to be seen without special equipment. (Energy Drain - Instinctual)

Intangibility - I can become abstract in a way that means I cannot be touched by any human-world item not meant for catching and/or harming ghosts. Tied slightly to invisibility; often, when intangible, I revert to a more corporeal form that is difficult to see (not impossible, but difficult nonetheless). (Energy Drain - Instinctual)

Flight - Probably because of the composition of ectoplasm in comparison to the Earth’s atmosphere, I can fly without accessories. (Energy Drain - Instinctual)

Body Modification - Includes (but probably not limited to): formation of a ghostly tail when flying at high speeds, ethereal fog materializing between body parts to stretch them, also I can shift to a rubber-like constitution at will. (Energy Drain - Instinctual to Low)

Ghost Stinger - If I react quickly enough, I can turn other ghost’s ectoplasmic energy against them and re-direct the energy. Often this produces an electrified effect on the ‘already-used’ (meaning the energy wasn’t mine to begin with) ectoplasm. If I choose to, I can use energy from my own core to amplify this effect. (Energy Drain - Low)

Ecto-Blasts - I can release energy from my ghostly core outwards in varying degrees of power (up to my control when coming to how much I want to release). (Energy Drain - Low to Moderate)

Ectoplasmic Manipulation - Instead of unfocused ectoplasmic energy, I can dictate what the energy from my core does. Shields, ecto-weapons, and bindings (like chain or rope) are my most often used forms of ectoplasmic manipulation. (Energy Drain - Low to Moderate)

Cryokinesis - Same premise as Ecto-Blasts, provided I concentrate on cold energy rather than unfocused ectoplasm. (Energy Drain - Low to Moderate)

Telekinesis - By surrounding an object (or objects) with a light form of ectoplasm, I can move things around. Size and weight of the item are factors, but longer distances make it harder to move the object(s). (Energy Drain - Moderate)

Ice Fog - If I slowly release cold energy from my core and with it releasing minute amounts of raw ectoplasmic energy, I can create a dense icy fog that decreases visibility around a particular area. (Energy Drain - Moderate to High)

Beacon - Using energy from my core, I can create a beacon of white-green light (from my hands) that attracts ghosts in the near vicinity-friend or foe. The stronger the beacon, the greater area the light reaches (meaning more ghosts the beacon calls to). They seem to be entranced by the light enough so that they’re unaware of their surroundings until I stop the beacon. (Energy Drain - Moderate to High)

Duplication - While making sure not to split my central core, I can manipulate the ectoplasm inside of me to create an identical copy of myself. The more core energy I use, the easier the copy is to maintain, the more durable they are, and the closer they are to. Side note, memory transfer is still a pain. Currently able to maintain 2 low-stamina clones, 1 moderate-stamina clone. (Energy Drain - High)

Ghostly Wail - Using the raw energy from my central core, I can create a series of ectoplasmic sound-waves that do severe damage to those in range of the attack. Also slightly inflicts damage on those not in direct attack but who are close enough to me that the screams penetrate their ears. (Energy Drain - High to Critical)

Arctic Howl - Using more central core energy with focus on its element of ice, a much more devastating effect to the original Wail can be achieved by the waves manifesting into a blizzard. The above effects of the original Ghostly Wail remain in place with the addition of the deep-freeze extending the attack radius. (Energy Drain - Critical)

Jack was the first to speak up.

“Heh… Who knew he was holding out on us this whole time?” He chuckled with an odd sort of smile, still unable to process that his fifteen-year-old son possessed the power that he did. Maddie was still gobsmacked as she flipped through the pages of edits that her son had done.

How he was doing abysmally in English class with this obvious mastery of the language was beyond her, for one thing. For another; after his list of powers, Danny had composed several theories and hypotheses that could put other doctors in the Paranormal sciences to shame. They were well thought out and carefully laid down with just enough proof threaded in with his theories that made them seem credible. The woman seated herself and blinked. Who knew? She’d always thought that it would be her daughter to follow in her footsteps, even when Jasmine had proclaimed her love for psychology. Jazz had been the one with the book-smarts and Danny had been the boy with his heart in anything he does. The way his notebook looked, however, told her that Danny wasn’t letting on nearly how intelligent he actually was; and it also told her that he had a knack for the thing that her and Jack had devoted their lives to. Rather than her eldest taking over the Fenton family tradition of ghost-hunting when they were gone, it seemed that her youngest was more than equipped with the knowledge to step up to the plate now.

For once in her life, Madeline Cassandra Fenton was truly stumped. She’d thought that she’d have an easy answer to her son’s question, but she was absolutely, 100% baffled just by what Danny was stating simply in his journal as if it were nothing. Jack was too, if his calculating expression told her anything. Despite his tactless way of approaching situations and his general lack of common sense, Jack Fenton was truly a genius and had a wonderfully creative mind; it was one of the many reasons that she’d fallen in love with him. He was deep in his ‘scientist-mode’, as he said it to be. Brows drawn together, the man nodded and looked to his wife.

“I think that he’s yet to apex, as far as these powers go. From the looks of things in here,” he referred to the generous edits made to the notebook-including the changing ‘energy-drain’ levels, “the longer he has these powers, the more control he has. Probably even the strongest attacks he has now will be nothing if we give it a couple years.” Jack grinned like a child in a candy shop. “Who knows, Mads, he might just be the most powerful ghost ever! And he’s only halfway there!” Maddie found herself smiling at her husband’s eagerness. “Maybe, Jack, maybe…” She trailed off in favor of looking over the book again while Jack began rambling about he and Danny teaming up to be a dynamic duo of sorts. Through all of the questions that his notebook had left her with, one thing was clear to Maddie when she finally left the lab that evening; she had really only just begun to learn the double-life her son had been leading for the past year and a half.

And she was more than ready to continue learning, as any good scientist would be.

[impudentmiscengenation]

Abomination

His very existence was an abomination. The bastard mixture of human DNA and ghostly ENA, an ectoplasmic core alongside a beating heart. To his parents, he was only a hypothetical, because creatures like him weren’t even supposed to be possible. Weren’t supposed to exist.

The knowledge of this fact was one of the very things that had been struggling with since the day his wretched half-life began. Was he alive, pretending to have died? Was he dead, pretending to be alive? Neither? Both? He knew, he just knew, that Spectra was right and always had been. He was a freak. Not a ghost, not a human. Something that was both there and not there at the same time; a sick, twisted Schrödinger’s cat who tried and tried but it was never enough. No matter how hard he wanted to belong; whether to ghosts like Frostbite and Dora, or humans like his best friends. He didn’t though, and it only reaffirmed his belief that there was nothing that he could do to end this constant mental back and forth.

The only person who even could attempt to understand him had long since abandoned sanity. Vlad had been alone for twenty years. Twenty years of feeling this desperation, the weight of the world collapsing on top of you with nothing you can do about it. Only he was alone, utterly and entirely. It was no wonder that he lost his mind to ghostly obsession. It seemed so tempting, too. To completely allow inhibition to take over and become numb to one’s own existence. To only have to focus on achieving the one thing that matters most without having the hindrance of human sanity. Danny didn’t have that choice, though. He’d seen what he would do if his mind was lost, if his beating heart was lost. He couldn’t lose his sanity over this, even though he could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge.

An idea formed in his head to end his torment. It had only really became an actual plan when the people he had worked so hard to save decided to push him aside for a newer - more human - group of ghost hunters. He was so… angry. He could feel the heat burning inside of his throat. The one thing that he was doing in order to keep himself from losing his mind and it was snatched away from him, leaving nothing but a cold emptiness in its wake.

He warred with himself but when his parents were hauled away, he lost it. The frustration, the anger, hate hate hate it all became too much to handle. He didn’t want to be a freak. Everything he had worked so hard for. Everything that he had done to make sure he didn’t lose who he was, so he wouldn’t become Him. It was all gone; there was nothing left. He wanted his humanity back. He needed it. If he couldn’t end this fury through protecting Amity Park, he’d snap. He wasn’t protecting anyone anyhow, the more he held onto his bastard existence, the more people ended up hurt. He didn’t want to have to continue warring with two halves of the same whole. He needed it to end, for his own sanity.

They yelled for him to stop, warned him that no good would come of this, but the static in his head just wouldn’t leave. He could feel it coming, like a switch was going to be flipping inside of his head. Was this what Vlad wanted? For the both of them to lose their minds? No. No, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

He calibrated the portal, pressing the right buttons and flipping the correct switches. Hesitation wasn’t allowed in the moment of true clarity that he was experiencing. A small voice spoke to him: “What if this doesn’t reverse it? What if you die completely this time?”, and he paused to whisper back. “Then at least I’d be whole. At least, if I become a full-ghost, I’ll never be caught in the middle. If my human half dies, it’ll die as I lived. I won’t be trapped on the edge of sanity like this. Never again.”

And he pressed the button.

He felt the electricity rip through him again, he smelt burning flesh; but it was all so wonderful. He knew, one way or another, that a part of him would cease to be. Whether Danny Fenton or Danny Phantom left him, he’d get his answer. He’d find out who he was really supposed to be, which alias he really was and which part of himself was the true abomination.

[impudentmiscengenation]

Paramour Perils

Their breakfast had started quietly enough. Phantom had no need of eating, so the ghost settled for watching the nineteen-year-old as he picked at what was on his plate. Phantom hummed a soft tune to himself, glancing at a book he’d started but rarely had the time to finish. It was a good read but malicious ghosts decide, on a whim, to visit to the town of Amity Park-the one he’d sworn to protect (if only to protect his inamorato, but that was a thought to be spared for another time).

Today is going to be slow, I think. The specter thought idly to himself; perhaps he and his human could return to the bedroom and… Find a way to entertain each other. Phantom pressed his lips into a mischievous grin at the thought of the black-haired beauty squirming and panting beneath him; screaming his name and begging for more, Phantom being more than happy to- “I think I’m pregnant.”

If ectoplasm could get any colder, it would have in the moment that the white-haired apparition heard those four words. His fantasies having come to a screeching halt, Phantom turned his attention to the human across from him, blinking in shock. Danny acted as though he hadn’t said anything of consequence, using his fork to push the eggs around on his plate. Phantom swallowed; it hadn’t been his imagination, had it? “… Come again?” Danny set down his fork and licked his lips nervously. “I… I think I might be… pregnant… Or something…” He mumbled, toes curling in discomfort. Phantom unconsciously stood, ghostly tail replacing his legs-what often happened in moments of distress-as the temperature dropped substantially. “Or something?! P-Pregnant?! You’re male! Have you forgotten how human anatomy works, Fenton?!” Danny flinched at the use of his last name, something his lover only did when extremely unnerved. By his tone and the way he worried, though, Danny could tell that-in fact-he had a liable reason to be concerned that he was pregnant. He noted the way that his lover had said human anatomy. Danny swallowed. “I know plenty about human anatomy… But… not so much about, y’know, ghost anatomy.” He put it out there. Phantom opened his mouth to say something and immediately closed it, grumbling incoherently to himself in a language that Danny couldn’t understand. Danny refused to meet the emeralds that were the eyes of his infatuate. The ghost went back and forth with himself for a few minutes, tail flicking anxiously. Danny squirmed in his chair, even more uncomfortable. He couldn’t tell what Phantom was thinking whereas he was sure that the other could always read him like an open book.

“I… I took a test, too… In case you were wondering. I… I didn’t immediately want to jump to a weird conclusion.” Phantom paused and looked back at Danny, brows furrowed. When it was clear that the human wouldn’t elaborate, Phantom gestured to him.

“And?” The ghost pressed. Danny bit at his lower lip, looking down.

“P-Positive.” He mumbled insecurely.

The eggs on the plate were long since forgotten and Danny found himself staring at his feet, still only clad in socks. Phantom had seemingly made a decision and didn’t hesitate in lifting Danny up bridal-style, the teen squeaking in surprise. “Wha-What are you doing?” Phantom had a heavy look on his face as they flew out of the window-becoming invisible to avoid attention. Danny frowned indignantly and opened his mouth before Phantom answered his question. “Unfortunately, we don’t really have much of a choice but to see someone who has an answer to our…” His eyes drifted to the teen’s flat stomach, covered with a thin, white tank top. “... Dilemma.” He settled on the word while continuing to fly, Danny even more confused than before he had asked his question. “But where are we going? Who could possibly know what’s going on here?” Phantom maintained his silence and Danny knew that it was futile to try and get more out of the ghost; he settled for adjusting himself in Phantom’s arms to become comfortable as the lovers ascended into the clouds.

Danny was seated on a red velvet couch, a scowl etched on his usually cheerful face. He was absolutely pissed. Now he knew why Phantom had purposefully avoided the subject of their impending location. If Danny had known that he’d be seated in a chair at Plasmius’, he would have pitched a much bigger fit. Likely he would have still ended up here somehow, knowing his ghostly companion.

He knew that Phantom had sound logic for bringing him here. Plasmius had been the one who had begrudgingly explained to both of them that, yes, it was possible for a human and a ghost to become mated even though he had advised against it.

That was one of the many, many reasons that Danny couldn’t stand Plasmius. Unless something offered him some sort of advantage, he rejected it. He had no idea what the concept of “unconditional love” was, and he used people as if they were pawns in a chess game-he’d made more than one reference to it, after all. As if Danny needed more reasons to hate Plasmius, the ghost had also tried to use Phantom’s feelings for Danny against him on numerous occasions. However. Danny growled under his breath as he thought this. Plasmius knew about almost everything ghostly.

Which was why they were here, much to the human’s chagrin; and if the look on Phantom’s face said anything it was that he was just as uncomfortable, if not more so. Plasmius had a shit-eating grin on his face that was so full of condescending mirth that Danny wasn’t sure if the other was listening at all. Danny had a strong feeling that the elder was merely taking in the sight of Phantom having to swallow his pride.

Danny was flushed red and scowling. Not wanting to see that look on Plasmius’ stupid blue face, he busied himself with staring at the carpet. He was still in his pajamas, as Phantom hadn’t the mind to allow him a change of clothes before rushing them off to their enemy. Danny wasn’t too concerned but it was still the added layer of embarrassment that he was annoyed with.

Phantom heard Plasmus chuckle from where he had his head lowered. If the damn fruitloop was going to help, he’d need to humble himself. This was not an easy thing for Phantom to do, mind you, but if it meant that he and his mate would figure out what exactly was happening then he’d do it. He’d do anything. Plasmius grinned down at the younger ghost. “Alright, alright. Let me see if I understand exactly the circumstances. You, Phantom, want me, your sworn enemy, to look over your mate? The one human who means the absolute world to you? I must say, your desperation intrigues me. To think that you would place the health of your beloved in the hands of-” Phantom growled, interrupting him. “We get it, Plasmius, it’s not something you’d expect. Are you going to look at him or not?” He spat bitterly, eves still trained on the carpet. Plasmius scoffed but, nonetheless, floated to where Danny sat. Red eyes lazily looked over his form, Danny squirming uncomfortably. “What, pray tell, am I supposed to be looking for, Phantom?” He scowled. Phantom opened his mouth but was cut off by Danny. “I think I’m… pregnant.” He murmured the last word, his face even more red than before. Plasmius’ eyes widened. “What? Pregnant? With a… a hybrid child?” Thoughts of picking on Phantom more were thrown out of his head as he swiftly got on his knee in front of the human, who flinched back slightly. Phantom flew to be beside his lover with a soft growl in Plasmius’ direction. Plasmius paid no heed to Phantom’s possessiveness and, instead, stared at the teenager’s stomach with one hand stroking his goatee. Phantom felt his eyes narrowing but he couldn’t very well tell him to stop-they needed his help after all, and this was what needed to be done. Plasmius hummed to himself. “Very well, I’ll… have a look. Follow me.” The ghost resumed his floating and drifted away from the room, expecting the teens to follow. As Danny moved to walk behind Plasmius, Phantom scooped him up against his chest again, causing the boy to sigh. “I’m not allowed to walk until further notice?” He huffed and Phantom grinned. “You seem surprised. Don’t I always suspend your walking privileges when there’s a question of your well-being?” The ghost teased and Danny rolled his eyes but nonetheless made himself comfortable as they were led down into a laboratory. Plasmius stopped and gestured to a metal examination table. Phantom hesitated before setting Danny down, the boy shivering as his bottom made contact with the freezing table. Phantom set his hand on the boy’s shoulder for comfort, Danny nodding back with a slightly-forced smile. After all, it wasn’t the first time something cold found its way up against his ass.

Even though he’d been playing it relatively cool so far, Danny was more scared now than he could ever remember being-even more so now than when he had to tell his ghost hunter parents that Amity’s infamous ghost hero had imprinted on him. Maybe even more than when he’d been waiting for the pregnancy test and praying that it would be negative. He let his blue eyes close while Plasmius suddenly loomed over him.

“Lay down.” The older ghost demanded and Phantom found himself settling into a hateful glare. Danny, too anxious to do anything other than listen, laid flat on the table with no intention of opening his eyes. He’d much rather pretend that he was somewhere, anywhere, else rather than here in this exact moment. While Phantom floated by his lover’s shoulders, running his fingers through his mate’s black hair as a comfort to the human, Plasmius hummed in thought by the boy’s abdomen. The elder phased the tank top off of the ever-anxious Danny, ignoring the soft growl aimed at him courtesy of Amity Park’s resident ghost protector. The vampiric-appearing ghost placed both of his hands on the boy’s stomach, his hands glowing with fuschia ecto-energy. Phantom was shocked when Danny gripped the ghost’s free hand, squeezing it tightly. The green-eyed ghost snarled at Plasmius, his eyes glowing a bright toxic green. “You’d better not be hurting him in any way, or I’ll tear off your arms.” The specter snapped whilst Plasmius rolled his eyes. “Oh, a threat from someone centuries my junior; I’m terrified. And your mate is unharmed, I’m merely trying to feel for any kind of-” He cut himself off and looked, absolutely appalled, at where his hands had been resting on the boy, slightly below the nineteen-year-old’s naval. “... Impossible… You… You’ve done the impossible… A hybrid child…” Plasmius nearly choked on his words as he withdrew his hands. Danny forced his eyes open and snapped up into a seated position. “What?!” He cried out, not liking Plasmius’ hushed astonishment at all. God, why couldn’t it be bad Thai food? Or a stomach flu? Why couldn’t it be something normal for once? Phantom, who had been about to retort to Plasmius’ age reference, found his mouth snapping shut with a ‘click’ of his teeth. Plasmius had his hand on his chin, a thoughtful and puzzled expression on his face.

“Well, this is certainly an interesting turn of events… My, my, how rare. You two seem to always make an afternoon interesting. Ah, but on another note, you may want to consider removing that little monstrosity before it develops much more.” Phantom narrowed his eyes.

“What exactly are you implying, Plasmius?” At the ghost’s icy tone, the elder merely shrugged.

“I wasn’t trying to imply anything more than saving the life of your mate, Phantom.” Plasmius replied in a voice just as cold. This shocked the younger into silence. “The… thing residing inside of your mate, in a makeshift womb of ectoplasm and water, is only going to result in a sickly mutate of human cells and ectoplasmic energy-a bastard. There’s reasons that such things do not exist in most natural states-it will only serve to be more of a monster than you claim myself to be. As it grows, it will require more energy than your human mate can offer it. It will feed and thrive off of killing Daniel-slowly and rather painfully, might I add. Not to mention, even if he somehow manages to carry this thing to term, it will try to tear its way out- disregarding its birth-giver. Which is why I suggest you and your mate are rid of it before there’s lasting damage.” Plasmius explained coolly. Phantom frowned, his eyes being the only thing to betray the utter incredulity that made his mind buzz. “Then… the myths are…”

“Not exactly myths at all, Phantom. Old stories, forgotten and disregarded by time. I’d like to say that almost every single story that you have heard is likely a true encounter with a hybrid. Because of their foulness, they were all hunted to extinction centuries ago. At least, they were.” Phantom hummed quietly and looked down before meeting Plasmius’ gaze again.

“How do we take care of it without it hurting him? It’ll probably try to put up a fight.” Plasmius waved a hand. “It was caught early enough that some concentrated ectoplasmic energy would end it with only some minor discomfort to your mate.”

“And it’ll stay gone?”

“If not, a small incision could work just as well.” Phantom nodded and sighed in thought. “No.” Danny interrupted before the ghosts could further their conversation. His voice didn’t waver and both beings looked over at him, surprise evident on each of their respective features.

“What?” Plasmius and Phantom echoed one another as Danny turned to face them, his legs dangling off of the medical table.

“I said ‘no’. You’re not taking care of any problem. End of story. We’re done here. I want to go home.” Danny looked at Phantom, the ghost incredulously staring back.

“... Danny-”

“No! Don’t ‘Danny’ me! You were talking to Plasmius about killing our baby!” The boy was in near hysterics. Plasmius scowled and pointed to the teen’s stomach.

“That is not a baby. It is a bastard. And if something isn’t done before it grows, it will kill you. Regardless of how you may feel about it, you can rest assured that it does not feel. There is only lore and lost stories about hybrids for a reason-they are menaces that serve no purpose to the natural world. They have the power of the dead with the breath of life and are nothing but a danger to us all!” Phantom swallowed uneasily but Danny only became more determined, the teenager cradling his stomach protectively.

“Well maybe your lore is wrong! It was wrong about ghosts imprinting on humans!” He argued and Plasmius felt his eyes narrow into slits, the ghost growling.

“If I do recall, I said that it wasn’t wise, not world-ending. And imprinting has nothing to do with bringing a sickly creature into this world that can only bring destruction with it. As evil and insane as you two percieve me to be, I would rather the world not be plunged into despair all because a teenager decides to reconcile with his mistake of bearing a bastard.” Phantom found his voice and glared at Plasmius. “Enough out of you.” He turned and addressed his mate, a pleading in his eyes as he crossed the distance between them and took Danny’s hands in his own. “Love, please just listen. I don’t like this any more than you do but… I can’t bear to lose you. As much as it pains me to see you this distraught over this, I only want your safety. If you’re worried about old blue-skin over there,” Plasmius growled at that, “I’ll do it myself, if you prefer. I… know of some of the horror stories of hybrids, halfas as they’re sometimes called, and none of them end well for the parent. Danny, please.” Danny shook his head, biting his lower lip. “Phantom, I’m not going to… I’m not going to kill our child, not because of some ancient fairytales.”

“They’re not fairytales, you insolent brat! Don’t you understand that in every story there lies a grain of truth?!” Plasmius spat and Phantom ignored him in favor of brushing his hand along Danny’s cheek. “My dove, if you want a child there are other ways to go about it… We could get a surrogate, or adopt-really there are options!” He implored, Danny shaking his head again. “N-No! It’s not that! Phantom this baby is ours! You can’t take this from me!” He squeezed his lover’s hands, tears forming in his blue eyes. “Please.” The whimper broke Phantom’s resolve and he sighed, shifting to cradle his mate close to his chest.

“It seems, Plasmius, that we’re finished here… Thank you for… well, you know.” He mumbled. The blue-skinned ghost shook his head in disgust.

“Ignoring your pleasant articulation, Phantom, I’ll advise against this only once more. Doing nothing in the face of this situation… Only death and misery will follow you on this path, Phantom. I trust you’ll bear that in mind when it’s too late, hm?” He snipped before stepping away from the two, back upstairs where they came from.

Phantom was silent as he flew Danny up through the roof and back into the now-afternoon sky. As the white-haired male flew them home, his face was stoic, not revealing the turmoil inside, Danny couldn’t help but to wonder if Phantom would love the child growing inside of him at all. Biting his lower lip, Danny cuddled closer to the ghost and closed his eyes.

By the time the couple had reached Amity Park from Wisconsin, the stars were out and shimmering in the cobalt sky. Phantom easily landed on the balcony outside of their apartment and walked inside, setting Danny gently on the bed before turning on his heel and walking away a few steps, facing the open window. The ghost sighed. “Is there anything that I can say that will change your mind about this?” He asked softly, a pleading whisper. Danny felt his heart constrict but he still shook his head, drawing his knees to his chest and hooking his slender arms around them.

“No… There isn’t…” He murmured just as quietly and Phantom hung his head slightly. “Honestly, I figured as much… Once you set yourself on something, you don’t let go of it.” He mumbled almost bitterly and Danny found a smile on his face. “One of my many endearing qualities, I know.” Phantom turned back to the boy and seated himself at the human’s feet, staring at the other with an unreadable expression. Danny smiled reassuringly.

“Hey, look at it this way, if Vlad already has a vendetta then this baby can’t be all bad, right?” He jested, earning a quick quirk of the lips from Phantom. Danny dropped his small smile and tilted his head a bit to the side.

“Phantom… Stop trying to push blame on yourself and, for the love of God, stop looking at me like I’m going to drop dead at any second. Give me a chance, will you? I’m stronger than I look!” Danny pouted childishly, causing Phantom to finally smile back-albeit a bit sadly.

“As is attested by…?” He grinned at Danny’s feeble attempt to kick the ghost.

“Hush, you.” He glared half-heartedly and huffed when the ghost returned to melancholy. “Look, can we just not think about it for a while? Fool ourselves into normalcy for a night and wrestle with the serious stuff later?” Danny suggested, patting the space beside him on the bed. Phantom raised an eyebrow. “Pushing things off to deal with at a later time? How very uncharacteristic of you, Danny.” He teased before taking the spot on the bed he was offered. Shedding all of his clothing with help from intangibility, Phantom grabbed his human and pulled him close to his chest, making quick work of his human’s clothes as well. Danny squeaked in response, flushing pink. Phantom grinned and kissed along the other boy’s jawline, earning a plethora of delightful sounds from his mate. With a sigh, the specter looked into his human’s blue eyes.

“You know that we’ll need to set down and discuss this, right?”

“Yep.”

“And that I’m going to try everything I can in my power to change your mind?”

“Of course.”

“And you’re going to turn a blind eye to the fact that this is a horrible and dangerous decision that could result in your death?” Danny’s eyes seemed to sparkle as he grinned.

“Since when has that ever stopped me?” 

[impudentmiscengenation]

Broadcast

Danny fiddled with the microphone pinned to his shirt, biting his lips nervously. He should never have agreed to go on ‘Paranormal Press’ to talk about his ghost half. Never. This was dumb, so dumb. Why was he so dumb? He glanced off to the side to see his parents giving him a thumbs-up from where they were, talking to some big-shot GIW scientist that the ‘news’ had also been interviewing. Of course they’d be grinning and excited; why not? They aren’t the ones that have to go on live television and talk about what were the most intimate parts of themselves.

Danny scowled to himself and tried to get comfortable in the black leather seat that he’d been given. Seated across from him was the reporter who would be asking the questions. The reporter, a gentleman in his early forties named Rich, gave the boy a small, crinkly-eyed smile. The brown-eyed man gently moved the teen’s hand from the microphone. Danny went stiff and dropped his twitching hand onto his knee.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s like camera’s not even there, if you don’t think too much about it. I was nervous my first time on live T.V., too, so I know how it feels.” Rich gave the boy a reassuring nod. Danny tilted his head to acknowledge that he’d been spoken to but remained rigid. Rich stroked his freshly-shaven chin before grinning.

“Y’know, the first time I did a live show, I was so nervous I got really bad gas.” Rich found his cheeks tinting at the not-so-fond memory of his late teens. Danny looked at the man and allowed himself a small, amused smile.

“Really?” He asked, intrigued and a bit more relieved. Rich grinned, glad to see that his confession had produced the desired effect on the teen. There it is. The reporter nodded.

“Mmhmm. Totally. It was foul, too. My co-workers wouldn’t stop calling me ‘Rich the Ripper’ for months.” Danny chuckled quietly, behind his hand out of respect, and looked at the plush violet carpet, mirth dancing in his blue eyes.

“That sounds… awful.” Rich laughed quietly as well.

“Yeah, it was pretty bad. This stays between us, okay? I really don’t want that nickname coming back.” Danny laughed and the two shook hands.

“Deal.” Suddenly a voice offstage called their attention.

“We’re live in thirty!”

Danny gulped. She didn’t mean thirty minutes. Rich cleared his throat and Danny glanced over, relaxing slightly at the older man’s calming gaze.

“Just breathe, you’ll do great. You saved the world from a glowing green asteroid; how hard could a little interview be?” Danny grinned and looked down a bit, pink staining his cheeks. Rich chuckled and straightened his notes, crossing one leg over another. “Just focus on me,” the seasoned reporter advised coolly, “I promise you that this’ll be over before you know it.” “Fifteen seconds!”

Danny took a deep, steadying breath and made himself comfortable in the seat that he’d been provided with. Focus on the questions, Fenton. Just relax. You’ve stuffed countless ghosts back into the ghost zone, faced your evil future self, and generally gone through Hell and came back unscathed! This is just a dumb interview! You can do this! “Five! Four! Three!...”

Danny snapped up to a decent posture and forced himself into a collected countenance. Even Rich found himself impressed at the boy’s sudden shift before he gave a dazzling smile to the camera. “Good evening, everyone. Today is a special day; I’m Richard Rossum of Paranormal Press here with Daniel Fenton who, up until just a few months ago, was avowed as a normal high school student in the not-so-normal town of Amity Park in Michigan; however, the Disasteroid debacle of several months prior is what forced a change, so to speak. I don’t suppose I have to tell you that I am not only speaking to Amity Park resident Daniel Fenton, but will also have the pleasure of addressing proclaimed hero, Danny Phantom.” Rich adjusted his focus and beamed at the halfa, who, in turn, responded with a slight quirk of the lips. It wasn’t necessarily awkward, just a bit unnatural. He was still fraught with nerves.

“So, Danny, what part of all this has been the most difficult to get used to?” Danny swallowed and looked at the space between Rich’s eyebrows. “Well, I guess not having to dodge into a porta-potty to switch forms is pretty neat.” Rich chuckled and Danny grinned, gaining a bit of confidence from his jest. “Out of everything? … I have to say that it’s a bit odd to, well, not be ignored. I mean, before all of this, I could just kinda do my own thing and nobody would really pick up on it but now it’s like I can’t do anything without at least someone noticing.” Rich nodded.

“I suppose that would be taxing after a while. Now, from the Disasteroid incident we were informed that not only do ghosts exist but half-ghosts as well; can you elaborate on this?” Danny blinked and tilted his head to the side a bit. “Well, I’m not really a scientist like my parents but I have picked up some things from wandering the ‘Zone.” Before Rich could think to ask about the Ghost World, Danny continued. “So, ghosts are… formed when a human dies and their emotions leave a strong enough imprint behind into ectoplasm-which is the stuff that ghosts are made out of. Usually, the stronger the emotions a person leaves behind when they die, the stronger their ghost is when it materializes in the Ghost Zone.” Jack wiped a tear from his eye backstage; he knew his son would follow in his footsteps! And the way he went about it, he sounded just as smart as his mother, who was also beaming. The boy had a far-off look in his eyes and Rich could tell not to interrupt him, the boy was deep in thought.

“A halfa… Well, we’re… I’m different,” Danny adjusted his statement, looking towards the floor. “Obviously there’s not a lot of, y’know, science behind this but… I guess I’m the product of a half-death. Like, I started to die but because there was a lot of ectoplasm, my ghost formed immediately and, as a defense mechanism, I switched forms before it was over which preserved my human half.” Rich heard murmurs and other forms of quiet exclamation from the studio; Danny either didn’t notice or didn’t care. The boy looked back up from the floor and nodded to Rich, who took the hint and looked at his notepad before frowning and looking back at the boy. He cleared his throat.

“You say that you, in a sense, died. How did you die, then?” A chill swept through the room. Those watching on the television could feel it and saw the shiver that ascended Rich’s spine. Danny’s black hair covered his face and he had a hard frown set on his lips. Rich was about to open his mouth to take back the question, obviously he’d set his interviewee off somehow, when Danny let out a small noise, a laugh almost.

“Yeah, I sometimes forget that the human world isn’t really… acquainted with weird ghost formalities.” Danny looked up and brushed the hair from his face, calming his expression and taking back the chill from the room. Rich frowned.

“What do you mean?” Danny shrugged his shoulders. “To be honest, if you asked anyone in the ‘Zone that question, you’d probably get your lights punched out. It’s… really rude to ask a ghost how they died. It’s the sort of thing that you’d have to gain a certain level of trust before even really broaching the subject…”

Silence as Rich kicked himself mentally. The murmuring hadn’t stopped and Danny let his smile drop, facing toward the back of the room. As Rich was about to ask another, more safe, question, Danny interrupted his thoughts with an answer. “I was electrocuted.” The boy’s eyes closed. “I… Wandered into my parent’s lab one afternoon with my friends. I kinda told them about this invention that my parents made but that it fell just short of working so we were gonna check it out… I went inside and… Turned it on while I was still in it… And the rest is history.” The teenager now looked slightly sick and completely miserable, the hands in his lap were trembling. Rich felt a stab of guilt that was nothing compared to what the boy’s parents were feeling just offstage. The reporter cleared his throat with a small smile. “Alright then, next question! So, having parents with lots of paranormal knowledge; how do you think you were able to keep your secret under wraps for so long?” Danny’s attitude changed and he rubbed the back of his neck with a crooked grin.

“Heh, luck? … To be honest, I’m surprised myself. I guess those of us who knew were just real careful; I don’t really think that there’s much else to it. Luck and caution.” Danny shrugged his shoulders and Rich nodded.

“Fair answer. So, being half-ghost yourself, what is your opinion overall of ghosts?” The boy frowned in thought.

“Well, that’s kinda like asking what I think of humans as a whole. I mean, it’s a pretty broad spectrum that you’re referring to. Some ghosts want nothing but power and will do anything to get it, some humans are the same way. Some ghosts want to help others any way they can, some humans feel the same… Most ghosts kinda just want to be let alone, which I can respect as long as their ‘being alone’ doesn’t, y’know, cause issues. I think what I’m trying to say is that you can’t base your perspective of ghosts because of one nasty encounter; it’s bound to happen, just like going about your life and meeting terrible humans. In fact, I know a whole lot of ghosts who are absolutely terrified at the idea of humans.” Danny paused to grin, as if thinking of a fond memory. “So… Yeah.” He looked at Rich with his boyish smile. The reporter nodded and adjusted his leg.

“Alright, then. What is the most powerful enemy you have faced thus far?” The boy pursed his lips and went quiet. “Hmm, that’s tough, actually. I guess… hm. I guess I should say Pariah Dark was the hardest ghost I’ve ever had to fight. Especially considering I couldn’t have done it on my own.” He mused aloud and Rich tilted his head to the side.

“Could you give us a bit… More on this ghost?” Danny made a noncommittal sound before nodding his head and continuing.

“Well, Pariah Dark was a really ancient ruler of the Ghost Zone. The proclaimed ‘King of All Ghosts’. As you can imagine, he was pretty… difficult to deal with.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck nervously and Rich got the hint to begin to stray away from the topic. A woman cleared her throat and pointedly looked at the clock to remind him that he was on a bit of a time-crunch here. He needed to be quick with the five minutes he had left. “Alright, how about we start to wrap this up, then. What do you think is the most powerful ability that you have currently?” “My Ghostly Wail, for sure.” He said without hesitation, nodding to affirm himself. Rich grinned and continued along with this train of thought.

“Can you tell me about it? What does it do? How do you do it?” Danny looked even more uncomfortable and Rich started doubting himself. Was he asking all the wrong questions? The boy cleared his throat and adjusted himself in his seat.

“Well, it’s… It’s a bit tough to understand, really…” He mumbled before biting his lip. Maddie and Jack Fenton were just as confused from where they sat on the sidelines. Usually Danny was pretty ecstatic when demonstrating what he could do. Not once had he tried to perform a ‘Ghostly Wail’ for them, let alone have such a strong adverse reaction to it. Rich told himself not to interrupt the boy. He was obviously going to answer the question; the teen was looking for a way to articulate himself. Seemingly having found an answer to an internal question, Danny swallowed hard and continued to face the carpet. The teen’s face was more hardened than it had been (and much more distant than it usually looked, Maddie noticed).

“You remember when I told you that ghosts form out of strong human emotions bound to ectoplasm, right?” Rich nodded and Danny continued, speaking softly. The producers turned up his microphone to catch his words, which they hung onto like a lifeline. “Well, sometimes it’s not just emotions that get left behind. Sometimes there are… traces of certain memories or experiences that also go into forming a ghost. Sometimes these traces turn into abilities unique to the ghost that possesses them. Most of the time, these traces are what fuels ‘obsession’ in ghosts. Like, hunting, for example.” Danny grinned for a moment before regaining his somber expression. He sighed quietly and plucked at his shirt. “... When I went through the portal it… It really hurt. It was… awful. The worst thing I can think of, really. And… As I was, well, practically dying, I screamed.” He paused and the boy almost looked ready to vomit. Maddie was horrified into silence, covering her face with gloved hands while her husband was uncharacteristically stoic, frowning with his brows drawn together in concern. Rich leaned forward whilst Danny continued.

“A while after I became a halfa, I fought a really bad ghost. He was winning and I panicked. I yelled at him, screamed at him, and found out that I could project that sound so that it’s unbearable to those who hear it. It, very literally, blows them away.” Danny picked at the hem of his shirt again before finishing up with his answer. “I found out myself that my Ghostly Wail is unique to me in that… Well. When I tap into that power, I’m releasing… My dying screams.” His voice faltered for a moment and he heard his mother let out a choked sob at the mention of her child, her baby boy, going through that amount of pain. Danny steeled himself and forced a grin at the reporter. “But it’s pretty powerful. It’s really only a last resort attack because it just drains me, but it gets the job done, in most cases.” He shrugged to play off the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Next question?” Rich smiled.

“Actually, we’re just about out of time. Thank you so much for your time, Danny. Just the few answers you’ve given us today will undoubtedly shake things up in the paranormal scientific community!” Rich chuckled before facing camera #1 again to give his conclusion speech.

Danny waited in his chair until a woman’s voice echoed “We’re clear!”; the boy stood and-before he could be enveloped in his parents’ hugs-flew through the studio’s ceiling and into the crisp evening air.

I would rather take a beating from Skulker in my human form than do that again. Danny mused to himself as he twirled in the breeze, allowing the air currents to drift him further into the stratosphere and away from the studio, where plenty of baffled people were chattering away below him.