#lockjaw danny phantom

[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]

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]

Some art based on my Danny Phantom fanfic Lockjaw

[ghostlyglimmer]

Decided to turn this piece into the cover for my fic Lockjaw. So excited about how the story has been developing! I hope you all enjoy it too :D

[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 3: Pick Pocket

By GhostlyGlimmer

Danny's entire body ached as he trudged through the graveyard, the weight of his own death pressing down on him like an unbearable burden. The cold, damp air clung to his skin, chilling him to the bone despite the oversized hoodie he’d swiped from the locker. Each step felt like a monumental effort, his muscles protesting every movement. But he had no choice—he had to figure out what had happened to him, why he was still here, and most importantly, how to get back to his friends and family.

As he neared the edge of the graveyard, he spotted the dim glow of a streetlight. It cast long shadows across the ground, giving the place an eerie, otherworldly feel. The abandoned observatory loomed in the distance, but Danny knew he couldn’t go there just yet. He needed a way to contact Sam and Tucker, to let them know he was alive—sort of—and in desperate need of help.

He stumbled out of the graveyard and onto the deserted streets of Amity Park, his breath visible in the cold night air. His mind was racing, trying to piece together a plan. He needed a phone, but his own was likely in the hands of the police or his family by now. Even if it wasn’t, he couldn’t exactly waltz into FentonWorks and ask for it.

Art by chickenlover-19

As he wandered aimlessly, a flicker of light in the distance caught his attention. A small convenience store sat on the corner, its neon sign buzzing faintly in the night. Danny’s heart leapt. There was a chance someone inside had a phone he could use. He just needed to figure out how to get it.

He approached the store cautiously, his mind running through possibilities. He could try to steal a phone, but the thought made his stomach churn. Even in his current state, the idea of stealing from someone felt wrong. But what other choice did he have? He was desperate.

As he got closer, he noticed a figure leaning against the wall near the entrance, smoking a cigarette. The man looked to be in his late twenties, dressed in a wrinkled uniform that suggested he was an employee taking a break. More importantly, the man had his phone out, scrolling through something with a bored expression.

Danny’s heart raced as he formulated a plan. He didn’t have much strength, but maybe—just maybe—he could pull off a quick grab and run before the guy knew what hit him.

Taking a deep breath, Danny steadied himself and approached the man as quietly as he could. The cold air stung his lungs, and every step felt like it might be his last. As he got closer, he could see the man’s face more clearly—tired, uninterested, completely oblivious to the world around him.

Danny waited for the right moment, his eyes locked on the phone in the man’s hand. The moment came when the man took a long drag of his cigarette, his attention completely absorbed in the action. Without a second thought, Danny lunged forward, his hand darting out to snatch the phone.

He barely registered the man’s startled gasp as he yanked the phone from his grasp and bolted down the street. His legs screamed in protest, and his heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to keep going, driven by sheer adrenaline and desperation. He could hear the man shouting after him, but Danny didn’t look back. He couldn’t afford to.

After what felt like an eternity, Danny rounded a corner and ducked into a narrow alleyway, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He leaned against the cold brick wall, his entire body trembling from the exertion. The phone was still clutched tightly in his hand, its screen illuminating his pale, shaky fingers.

For a moment, he just stood there, trying to catch his breath and calm his racing heart. When he was certain the man wasn’t following him, Danny finally allowed himself to relax—just a little.

He looked down at the phone, his reflection staring back at him from the cracked screen. It was just a generic model, nothing fancy, but it would do. He quickly unlocked it, his fingers trembling as he navigated to the messaging app. His mind was a fog of confusion and panic, and he struggled to remember Sam or Tucker’s phone numbers. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut—he couldn’t recall any of their numbers.

His stomach dropped, but he refused to give up. He did the only thing he could think of: he typed out a message to his own phone, hoping against hope that it was still in Sam or Tucker’s possession. Maybe, if they saw the message, they’d realize it was him and come looking for him.

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

He stared at the message for a moment, his thumb hovering over the send button. What if they didn’t believe it was really him? What if they thought it was a cruel joke? But he had no other options. He had to take the risk.

With a deep breath, he sent the message and then deleted it from the phone’s history. He couldn’t afford for anyone to trace it back to him. After a moment’s hesitation, he powered down the phone and tossed it into a nearby dumpster, the clattering sound echoing in the alleyway.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He’d done what he could. Now, all he could do was wait and hope that Sam and Tucker would figure out the truth. He just had to stay hidden long enough for them to find him.

[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]

Lockjaw Chapter 5: Shocking Revelations

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.

They hurriedly packed up the photos, placing them back in the albums as neatly as they could manage with shaking hands. Sam sent a quick text to Jazz, telling her they were going out for a bit and would be back later. Then, they grabbed their jackets and slipped out of the house, their minds racing with a thousand possibilities.

The streets of Amity Park were quiet as they drove to the abandoned observatory. The sky was a deep indigo, the stars just beginning to peek out, and the air was cool, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves. It felt surreal, like they were caught in a dream—or a nightmare.

As they approached the familiar path that led to the observatory, Sam felt a chill run down her spine. The place had always been eerie, even in the daytime, but now it seemed even more so, the shadows stretching long and dark in the twilight. She exchanged a glance with Tucker, who gave her a reassuring nod, though she could see the fear in his eyes.

They reached the rusted gate that marked the entrance to the observatory grounds. The place had been abandoned for years, the once-grand structure now crumbling and overgrown with ivy. The dome of the observatory loomed above them, partially hidden by the dense trees that surrounded it.

Sam pops out of Tucker’s car wringing her hands in anticipation. Tucker kills the engine, and decides to keep the car unlocked in case a quick getaway was needed. They pushed open the gate, the hinges creaking loudly in the silence. They stepped inside, their footsteps crunching on the gravel path as they made their way to the entrance. The old wooden door was ajar, just as they’d left it the last time they’d been here. The three of them had always loved this place, finding solace in its quiet, secluded atmosphere. It had been their secret hideout, a place where they could escape the pressures of the world.

Now, it felt like they were walking into a haunted house.

They stepped inside, the floorboards creaking under their weight. The interior of the observatory was just as they remembered it—dusty, filled with old, broken equipment, and lit only by the faint light filtering in through the cracked windows. The place smelled of mildew and decay, a testament to its long abandonment.

“Danny?” Sam called out, her voice echoing off the walls. She didn’t know what she expected—there was no way this could be real, no way Danny could actually be here. But she had to try.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, from the shadows, a figure lurched forward. Danny stood there, his appearance gaunt and pale, dressed in oversized clothes that clearly didn’t belong to him. His face was partially hidden by the hood of his sweatshirt, and he seemed to wince with every movement.

Sam’s breath caught in her throat. It was Danny. He was standing there, dressed in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants that clearly weren’t his, his face pale and gaunt. But it was him—she’d recognize him anywhere.

Tucker’s eyes widened in shock. "Danny? How—"

Before Tucker could finish his sentence, Danny lifted his hands in a gesture of reassurance, then pointed to his throat and made a small, helpless shrug. He looked at them with eyes full of relief and a silent plea.

Sam’s eyes filled with tears as she stepped forward, her heart aching at the sight of him. “It’s really you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. She reached out and gently touched his arm, as if afraid he might disappear if she let go

The moment her fingers made contact with his skin, however, a cold, electrifying sensation surged through her, like touching a live wire. Her eyes widened in shock as she felt a sudden jolt of energy, something far beyond a normal human touch. It wasn’t painful, but it was deeply unsettling.

Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to process the strange sensation, and for a split second, she felt an overwhelming wave of emotions—fear, sadness, confusion—all flooding into her mind. It was as if she could feel a fragment of what Danny was experiencing: the raw pain, the disorientation, the sense of being lost in a world that had turned against him.

Sam quickly pulled her hand away, her heart racing. She stared at Danny, her eyes wide with a mixture of concern and fear. "Danny… what happened to you?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Danny looked back at her, his expression filled with sorrow and regret. He gestured to his throat, his silent way of communicating that he couldn’t speak, couldn’t explain. But the look in his eyes said it all—he was scared, more scared than he had ever been, and he needed their help to make sense of it all. 

[ghostlyglimmer]

Finished up Chapter 2! Let me know what y'all think! I hope you enjoy!

____________________________________________________________

With a newfound purpose, he rips off the trocar from his abdomen and stumbles off the embalming table, collapsing into a heap on the cold, tiled floor. A groan escapes his lips as he struggles to push himself up. His entire body feels like it’s been through the most grueling workout imaginable after decades of complete immobility—sore, shaky, and, well, dead.

He tries to stand, only to grab onto a rolling tray covered with embalming tools. It slips out from under him, crashing onto its side and sending scalpels, forceps, and other instruments clattering across the floor. The noise is deafening in the silence of the room. He winces, his heart racing as he glances around, half-expecting someone to burst in. When no one does, he exhales in relief.

Steadying himself with outstretched arms, he rises shakily, his legs trembling beneath him like a fawn taking its first steps. He manages one step, then another, then a third. His limbs feel stiff and uncooperative, but he smirks at his small victory. In this moment, each step feels like a monumental achievement.

He lurches out of the embalming room, taking a sharp right down a dimly lit hallway. A set of lockers by an exit sign catches his eye. There must be some spare clothes there, he thinks. He shuffles to the closest locker, marked with the name "Bryson" on a piece of painter's tape. Inside, he finds an oversized black hoodie and gray sweatpants. He quickly changes, then checks the neighboring locker labeled "Dalton." A pair of Nike sneakers awaits him, a size too big but far better than the Converse he vaguely remembers owning. Sorry, Bryson and Dalton, he thinks with a faint smile as he slips the shoes on.

He pushes open the exit door next to the lockers and steps out, scanning his surroundings to get his bearings. To his left, the Amity Park Graveyard stretches out, a familiar place he used to cut through with his best friends on the way to their favorite hideout—the abandoned observatory. The structure’s dome peeks out from behind the treetops, barely visible in the distance.

Pulling his hood as far forward as it will go, he sets off toward the graveyard, vaulting over a crumbled section of the fence. His mind drifts to Sam, the one who had discovered the observatory and made it their secret spot. She always did her homework there, finding solace in its quiet, eerie atmosphere. A grin tries to form on his face, but the movement sends a sharp pain shooting through his jaw, forcing him to wince instead.

As he navigates through the graveyard, he takes in the rows of tombstones, some weathered and old, others freshly carved. This is where everyone in Amity Park ends up eventually. One grave, in particular, catches his eye—a freshly dug plot with a canopy overhead, waiting for its new occupant. Curiosity pulls him closer, and he squints at the newly engraved stone.

His heart stops as he reads the name etched into the marble.

𝔻𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕖𝕝 𝕁𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝔽𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕟

𝔽𝕖𝕓𝕣𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝟙𝟚𝕥𝕙 𝟚𝟘𝟘𝟟- 𝕆𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟟𝕥𝕙 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟜

𝔹𝕖𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝕊𝕠𝕟, 𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔹𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕

Danny stumbles backward, falling to the ground. His breath quickens, eyes wide in shock as he reads the inscription over and over, hoping he’s made a mistake. His hands fly to his hair, tugging at his raven locks as pain shoots through his skull. This can’t be real, he thinks. This has to be a nightmare.

He clenches his eyes shut, desperate to wake up in his own bed, cuddling his drool-covered Bearbert Einstein. But when he opens them again, the cold marble is still there, looming in front of him. This is no dream. This is his reality.

Daniel James Fenton is dead.

Tears spill onto the dying grass as he stares at his trembling hands, unable to comprehend the situation. Why is he here? Why is he... alive? He can’t remember what happened, can’t piece together how he ended up like this. But after a moment, he forces himself to calm down, knowing he needs to come up with a plan—some way to figure out what’s going on, and what to do next.