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avaritia-apotheosis · 9 months

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Phantom Children: Redux | I. In Lieu of Flowers

Starting off my crossposting journey with PC:R <3

There is no Clockwork there to rewind time after the Nasty Burger explosion. Danny Fenton, having witnessed his friends and family die a fiery death, struggles to cope with his loss and the looming future that awaits him. So when an unlikely source offers a hand to help, he takes it. Three years later, Batman is called upon to help solve a string of impossible murders in Gotham that end up entangling him to the mysteries of Amity Park. -- A Rewrite of Phantom Children ft. A shiny new plot, longer chapters, and stronger prose!

A DPxDC crossover // Read on [AO3} or [FFN.net]

MASTERPOST // Next Chapter →

Three Years Ago…

Danny Fenton was fourteen when his world ended for the third time.

And no, this wasn’t the product of teenage melodrama. Rather it’s the result of the universe’s spirited efforts in making Danny’s life a veritable punching bag for any deity to come over and fuck it up .

He certainly didn’t ask to half-die not once, but twice , and be responsible for this godforsaken town. That’s a thing heroes do. Or sidekicks that train under heroes. Not some dumb kid barely halfway through his first semester of high school and who was incapable of keeping his grades higher than a C .

But, well, this was what he got for playing hero, right? Dead parents, dead sister, and dead friends, all because he was too goddamn slow .

(The prerequisite to every hero: a tragic backstory. Guess it was finally his turn.)

The weather went from a light mist to a drizzle, raindrops falling in uneven staccato on the cluster of black umbrellas. He could barely hear the ceremony— not that he was able to pay much attention anyway. Danny tried to. He did. But his mind was a blue screen— had been for the past few weeks—and the preacher’s words were just going in one ear and out the other in loud static.

His fingers curled around the velvet pouch in his pocket, grounding himself. He’d dug it out from its lockbox in the depths of his closet for this exact reason.

In front of Danny was a single plot reserved for the Fenton family, the grass undisturbed except for the muddy dirt and drooping flowers around the erected marble obelisk that stood atop the plot. (Undisturbed because there wasn’t any need to dig up the ground for a coffin. You’d need bodies for that, and there were hardly any left after—) At the obelisk’s base was a bronze placard engraved with the names of three of the people who once comprised Danny's whole world, and an epitaph: Gone but Never Forgotten.

Vlad must have chosen it. The obelisk was his decision too; excessive and grand because he would provide nothing less for his greatest enemy, his greatest love, and their wonderful, genius, perfect daughter.

Danny looked away from the monument, his hair a damp curtain that shadowed his eyes. No mom left to brush it out of the way. No dad to ruffle it into something even messier. There’s a— a pressure at the back of his throat that nauseated him to the point of discomfort but not enough to actually vomit in the nearest shrubbery. He rubbed his scratchy throat with his free hand, letting it rest by his clavicle. Right above where his heart was being mercilessly squeezed by his own guilty conscience.

He should have been the one to plan his family’s funeral. The one to write their obituary. The one to choose the headstone. The flowers. The date. Everything. It was his responsibility. His duty to make all these decisions as the—

Danny bit the inside of his lip.

He should have been more responsible. Should have been— oh he didn't know— there when all the decisions were made instead of holing up in a corner of the Zone and letting Vlad take care of it all. God, what kind of son was he to have the audacity to get his family killed and foist off arranging the funeral to the guy who wanted to kill his dad .

But maybe that was better. Leaving the decision-making to someone else, that is. God knows that Danny makes all the wrong choices.

(If only he was faster he was stronger he saved his family before going after his evil future selfhe gave back the test answers sooner that boiler never overheated.)

The hand on his shoulder nearly made Danny jump out of his skin.

He shifted his umbrella to see his aunt Alicia looking down at him, concern and pity softening her usually stoic features. Vlad flew her in from Spittoon. When? Danny didn’t know, though somewhere in his foggy memories he might have recalled Vlad asking how to reach Danny’s relatives. It was only aunt Alicia who came in the end, though. His mom and aunt Alicia never liked to talk about their parents, and his dad was an only child who was far too estranged from his own.

“Ceremony’s over, kid. You okay?”

He’d scoff, but he didn’t want to tempt his nausea.

“I’ll live.” He winced, the words bitter on his tongue. “I’m fine, I mean.”

Aunt Alicia pressed her lips into a thin, flat line. “The rain’s getting a little worse. Do you want to head back home?”

Home? Where even was that anymore?

“I think I wanna stay out here for now.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

“No— I just…I want to be alone, I think.”

She sighed, giving a comforting squeeze to his shoulder before dropping her hand. “Alright. I’ll just be waiting for you in the car then.”

Danny nodded absentmindedly, gaze trained on the drooping white lilies by the placard. At the corner of his eye, he saw Vlad approach aunt Alicia, somber-faced but calculating as they headed to the car.

The future he tried to escape was already playing out. Pieces slotting into place like some jigsaw puzzle of doom.

In his quiet moments, holed up in the corner of his parents’ room, he’d ponder the what-ifs. The should-have, could-have, would-have-beens. He’d think of the future in all its terrible glory and wonder where else it could have all gone wrong. The trigger was—surprise, surprise— Vlad. Or, living with him, that is. If he wanted to put an ounce of trust in that sob story future-Vlad spun, then it was Danny’s own grief coupled with Vlad’s invention that sent the world spinning into its destruction.

(Future-Vlad might have helped him. Might have turned over a new leaf. But there was an entire decade that separated Future-Vlad from the present- Vlad. And Danny would rather cut off his own arm than trust present-Vlad with anything related to Danny’s well-being.)

Danny knew jack shit about the adoption process, but he was 80% sure most social workers would place Danny with his aunt as opposed to his parents’ old college buddy that they recently connected with. That Danny ended up living with Vlad meant that either Aunt Alicia didn’t pass whatever assessment the state required, or Vlad used his influence to tip the scales in his favor. Probably both.

So the law would never let him live with anyone but Vlad— the fruit loop would make sure of that. Danny’s only option left was to run away, then.

Hm. How long could one half-dead fourteen-year-old realistically outrun a half-dead crazy billionaire with enough connections in both the human world and the Ghost Zone?

Survey says—

Fuck .

“Our condolences, Daniel.”

Danny startled. Who the—

He tilted his head the other way, shifting his focus to the woman who just appeared next to him. Sure Danny found his own attention slipping into darker places more often than not these days, but he should have noticed if someone came near him.

No, wait. Aunt Alicia managed to sneak up on him earlier. Maybe Danny really was just out of it.

“The doctors Fenton did brilliant work, and your sister had such a bright future ahead of her. Their loss will be felt.”

“Thank you,” Danny answered. The words are still ash on his tongue but he didn’t stumble over them anymore. “I…appreciate your support.”

The woman was tall, with a wiry physique and cool tawny skin. She had an oval face, a straight nose, and sharp features, though much of it was slightly obscured by her hat, the black netting ending just past her nose. Her hands were tucked into the pockets of her long black coat.

The man—and Danny knew he’d seen him somewhere before, it was on the tip of his tongue—shared in the similar sharp characteristics, but his coloring was a lot lighter. He had long white hair that extended past his shoulders and a long horseshoe mustache that should have looked stupid, but somehow he managed to make it work. He held a single umbrella for both himself and the woman.

His mind clicked. Recognition alight on his face.

“Mr. Dusan?”

Dusan smiled. “I am pleased that you still remember me, Daniel.”

Mr. Dusan, if Danny remembered correctly, was his parents’ liaison with their benefactor. The CEO of some sort of big research company whose name Danny never really bothered to pay attention to. They had been funding his parents’ research since their university days, and it was because of them that the Fentons managed to get their hands on enough samples of ectoplasm to experiment and research on. Mr. Dusan would be sent every once in a while to observe his parents’ studies, much to the Fenton family’s stress and delight. His visits would be preceded with days of cleaning the house from top to bottom and Danny’s parents frantically getting their stuff organized. But a good visit from Mr. Dusan always ended with the family going out for a nice dinner the day after.

It was one of Danny’s favorite times, really.

“Just Danny, please.”

“Danny, then,” Dusan said. “May I introduce you to my sister, Talia al Ghul?”

Sister? Danny raised his hand for a handshake, deciding not to comment on the age difference. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m, uh, sorry it’s not during better circumstances.”

Talia shook his hand with a closed-lipped, but somber smile. “Our employer—your parents’ benefactor—actually sent us to give his condolences, and to extend a helping hand if you should ever need it.”

“What?”

“Your parents were pioneers, Danny. Their research changed the face of the world as we know it despite how much they were ridiculed for it. It would be remiss of their benefactor to simply leave their legacy, their only son, alone to the wolves.” Her voice was smooth and honey-sweet, and Danny felt compelled to listen. “If you need anything, anything at all, feel free to reach out to us.”

She handed him a business card. It was crisp, made from thick card stock. Blank except for a single number in the middle.

Danny turned it over in his hand. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

He tucked it into his pocket. “Thank you for your offer. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“We will be in town for the next few days,” Dusan said. “We hope to hear from you soon.”

◆◆◆

Later, aunt Alicia asked if Danny would rather stay with her at the hotel. She’d ask this every time they parted ways, and each time Danny would say no, thank you.

She didn’t push too much. Knew, probably, that it was only a matter of time that Danny would have to leave his house to live…wherever it was his social worker decided to stick him in.

Danny appreciated her concern— even if he would rather do without it.

He slipped off his black suit jacket, throwing it over the back of the couch as he walked past the living room. His mom would throw a fit at that. He scrambled down to the lab, taking the steps two at a time, hands wrenching the tie from around his neck—and god fuck why did his skin feel so hot. The tie ended up somewhere on the steps, the velvet bag safely stowed away in a drawer full of blueprints. He kicked off his stupid dress shoes. A safety hazard, his dad would say. The lab floor needed to be clear at all times to prevent an accident.

Too fucking late for that.

White rings passed through him with blinding fury as Danny burst through the portal between dimensions and into the silence of the Ghost Zone.

He floated. Aimless.

And breathed.

◆◆◆

Danny picked a direction. Eenie-meenie-minie-moe . It’s no use trying to logic out directions in the Ghost Zone. Not when the islands thought of physics as nothing more than a joke. He set off north-north-west of the portal and tried his luck there.

Tucker and Sam would call him stupid. There were probably a billion-and-one better ways to find Clockwork’s stupid tower than this.

Jazz would say he’s still stuck on the bargaining stage—

Jazz can’t say anything anymore.

None of them can.

◆◆◆

Jessica Andrews, his social worker, took him out to a quiet cafe to talk. She was a tall woman with a stocky frame, brown skin, and a soft rounded face. Her nails were painted a light green; it was to match her plants, she’d say. Once, she’d told him about how her husband would complain about all the plants she bought because he couldn’t figure out where the jungle stopped and the house began.

The cafe was far enough away from most schools and built below some bible store, its facade made from faded red brick with a charcoal gray awning. A few circular tables and chairs were laid out front, though they sat empty. The weather had been everything but gloomy for the past few days.

Jessica clasped her hands over the table, green nails tap-tap-tapping against her knuckles. “How have you been holding up, Danny?”

They’re seated by the giant window, though there wasn’t much to look at on the other side. Just the road and more old buildings on the other side.

“‘M fine.”

“That’s wonderful.” She could tell that he was lying; he’d bet on it. “How has your sleep been?”

Danny pointedly drank his coffee— brewed as dark as he could with as many espresso shots he could manage to order without the barista giving him a strange look. “Fine.”

She raised an eyebrow. “The black holes under your eyes beg to differ.”

“I’d rather skip all this small talk if that’s ok.”

“Alright, if that’s what you want.” She brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face. “I promised you early on that I’d keep you informed of how the courts are handling your case.”

He huffed, sinking into his chair. He already knew the outcome. “They decide where to stick me yet?”

“They’re still doing their due diligence and contacting as many of your adult relatives as possible in order to find a suitable guardian.”

“I’m sensing some sort of catch here.”

“The people looking over your case have considered your request to be placed with your aunt Alicia.”

“They said no.”

“They had some…concerns,” she said. “Your aunt’s residence is very isolated, which might prevent you from getting the proper help you need. There were also some concerns about how you would handle a sudden dramatic shift in lifestyles, what with being moved away from your school, your community, your peers, into someplace extremely unfamiliar.”

Danny leveled a look at her. “There’s something else, too, isn’t there.”

Jessica gave him a look of pity. “Your aunt also expressed some…hesitancy in taking you in when we talked with her.”

His breath caught. Teeth gnawed at the inside of his lip. Fuck. He rubbed the back of his neck, slowly inching it up to tug at the back of his hair, the other hand curling into a fist beneath the table. Fuck—

He knew he knew this would happen but he still—

—Can’t believe that he held onto that—

—What was he thinking?

“Danny?”

Fingernails dug crescents into the inside of his palm. He takes a deep breath. “Yeah, no, I’m fine. Don’t— I’m fine. It’s fine.”

He shivered.

Dan’s laughter echoed from the back of his skull, mocking him. It’s inevitable, Dan crowed. I am inevitable. You can’t stop the future any more than you could stop the sun from rising.

◆◆◆

Clockwork’s tower was nowhere to be found. Danny didn’t know why he kept on searching. Sheer stubbornness, maybe. Some foolish hope beyond all hope that if he begged hard enough, Clockwork would be willing to do him a favor and rewind time back to when everything made sense.

Sometimes Danny doesn’t even go to the Ghost Zone to find him.

Sometimes he’ll just find some patch of the Zone with enough floating rocks and scream. Scream until his voice is hoarse and he could no longer sustain his ghost form. Until the rocks are nothing but pebbles floating in the green void. Until all that’s left is the freezing cold inside of him.

The ghosts had been staying away from Amity Park.

Good.

He didn’t know what he would do if any of them showed up now.

Danny woke up with his skin freezing-on-fire-cold-too-cold-he-can’t-stop-sweating. He didn’t remember calling anyone, but he must have, considering that someone showed up in his room with a bowl of chicken soup and a glass of Gatorade.

He should’ve been more alarmed at this— there was a stranger in his house. But right now his head was begging to be smashed in with a hammer and he’s just glad that he was not alone.

“Do you think you could sit up and eat, Danny?” The figure sat down at the edge of his bed, one hand on top of the blanket cocoon he made for himself. A woman. An accent that was definitely not American. British, maybe? Either way, not aunt Alicia.

His stomach rumbled. At least this time it didn’t feel like throwing up everything. Danny pushed himself up with aching slowness, leaning back against the headboard. Bleariness blinked away from his eyes, he saw his caretaker’s features more clearly. It was—it started with a T. Tania? Tasnia? No, Talia was the name. Mr. Dusan’s sister.

“Ms. al Ghul? What are you doing here?”

“You don’t remember?” She sets the bowl down on his bedside table, in easy reach, and hands him the glass. “You called the number Dusan and I gave to you sounding delirious. We were worried but Dusan had some pressing business to attend to, so I came on my own.”

“Oh.” The drink was heaven to his parched throat. “How did you get inside?”

Her eyes—a unique shade of green—sparkled with mirth. “I have my ways.”

“Oh-kay .” He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “Thank you. For coming all this way, I mean. You really shouldn’t have to come and take care of some kid you just met.”

“Nonsense, Danny. I could hardly leave you alone in such conditions, it would be against my instincts as a mother.”

“You have kids?”

“I have one,” she said, then paused as if contemplating something. “No, I had two.”

Danny bit the inside of his cheek, thumb wiping away the condensation on the surface of his now empty glass. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Talia let out a sad sort of chuckle. “Thank you, though it’s not needed. He’s— my eldest son—isn’t dead. Certain circumstances forced me into the position to give him up for adoption. He’s alive and well, hopefully, though he probably doesn’t know that I exist.”

Oh. Danny didn’t know what to say to that.

“You didn’t try to get into contact with him?”

“What would be the point? He has his own parents now, a life free of complications. The best I could hope for was that he kept the memento I gave him.”

“A memento?”

“A necklace.”

Danny stilled.

It was stupid. Foolish even, to think about it. There are like over seven billion people in the world.

“What kind of necklace, if you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

Talia smiled, eyes glazed as if in memory. “It was a present from his father. A beautiful work of art, it was. It was a sapphire necklace— with two rows of sapphires, to be exact, cut in perfect circles and polished to a shine.”

The velvet bag Danny had tucked beneath his pillow burned at the back of Danny’s mind. It can’t be. That was too much of a coincidence.

“Each sapphire was surrounded by gold, though there were small diamonds that surrounded the larger sapphires.”

Oh god, oh god. What was his life?

“Though beautiful, my favorite part of it had to be what was within the middle sapphire. It was possible to open it, you see. And engraved inside were the words—”

“‘ For the greatest happiness you have given me.’”

Talia looked at him, green eyes wide. “How did you know?”

Danny found himself unable to look at her. Gingerly, he set his glass bedside table, next to his cooling bowl of chicken soup, and retrieved the velvet pouch beneath his pillow. He held the bag to her, almost reluctantly, but relinquished it once it was in her grip.

Talia opened the bag and drew out a necklace. Two rows of sapphires inlaid in gold, with the largest ones surrounded by tiny diamonds. It was beautiful, though perhaps it no longer shone as it once did.

She beheld it in silence, fingers tracing the exquisite craftsmanship as if, at first, in disbelief, then in reverence. She stopped at the large sapphire on the bottom row.

After a moment, she opened it.

“My parents told me I was adopted when I was six,” Danny said, unable to take the silence any longer. He tangled his fingers together, clasping and unclasping them. “They gave me that necklace— said it was from my birth mother. They never knew who she was, and the orphanage they got me from had no information either.”

Tucker and Sam once asked him if he ever wanted to know who his birth mother was. Danny wasn’t sure what he wanted, really. Sometimes he wondered about it, but he was content with not knowing for the most part. His parents were his parents, blood relation or no, and he looked similar enough to Jack Fenton in coloring that most people didn’t question why his skin wasn’t as light as theirs, or why his features were a lot sharper than theirs.

(Tucker and Sam never knew about the necklace. It was hard to explain why he never told them considering he’d tell them just about anything else— but it was different. It was…something just for him. A cold comfort in knowing that, at one point, he was someone’s ‘greatest happiness.’)

He coughed into his elbow, a shiver racking his spine.

Warm arms enveloped him into a hug.

“ It’s you, ” Talia whispered. “ It’s you.”

Something inside Danny seemed to click back into place. His core thrummed gently, humming a litany of feelings and words he couldn’t translate. Some are apprehensive. Others are confused. But most of all it felt…happy.

Warm.

◆◆◆

“You know that I’m adopted, right?” Danny said to Mrs. Andrews when they met up again. It was a park this time; she was really adamant about getting him out of his house.

“I am aware, yes.”

“When you mentioned that all my relatives would be identified and informed… does my biological mother count too?”

Mrs. Andrews exhaled between her teeth. “I know what you’re asking about, but I’m afraid it isn’t an option. In adoption cases like yours, the biological parents usually relinquish all parental rights over the child. Even if we did find your biological mother, the court would never let her have custody over you again.”

He shivered, pulling his jacket closer around him, and wondered why he still put so much faith in the legal system.

◆◆◆

It was only a matter of time before Vlad came to visit him once again.

“What do you want, Vlad .”

The black bags beneath Vlad’s eyes were the only thing unkempt about his otherwise neat appearance. Mourning or not, his smile still made Danny’s fist itch to punch it. “Why, little badger, can I not see how the son of my oldest friends is doing?”

“I’m not living with you, you fruit loop.”

Vlad rolled his eyes. “Really, Daniel, this disinclination of yours is getting tiring. Just accept it and the moving process will be much, much easier.”

Danny glared at him, green eyes livid. His teeth bared and gnashing. “I’d rather die than live with you.”

“Well, you’re already halfway there. Need help finishing the job?”

He swung his fist at him, but Vlad caught it with ease. “Get out of my house!”

“There’s no use in being difficult, now. You know as well as I do that the courts will inevitably choose me .”

( Inevitable, Dan had said. Inevitable inevitable inevitable.)

“Shut up.” Danny seethed. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

As he tore his hand away from Vlad’s grip, a spark of power burst in between them in a blinding white light and bitter cold. Vlad threw up a shield, but Danny was too caught off guard. He was blasted back, knees hitting the armrest on the couch and nearly making him stumble. When the light cleared, Danny could see swathes of crystalline ice and frost embedded in the middle of the living room.

Frost had crept up Vlad’s shield, coating it in a thin wall of ice which broke the second Vlad released the barrier. Vlad looked down at the ice, face flashing between surprise, confusion, awe, before settling into a patronizing smile.

“Do you see now?” Vlad said, gesturing to the ice. “This is why I’m the only one suitable to be your guardian. I am the only one that can understand you. That knows your needs as a young half-ghost. That can guide you and teach you.”

A bitter cold shook Danny’s body to the core, frost seeping into his bones and the bite of winter in his lungs. A thin layer of frost coated his palms and fingertips. His face is flushed. He feels hot but the shivers won’t stop.

Vlad approached, arms opened wide like he’s approaching some scared animal. Like a little badger.

Danny hissed at him, scrambling to his feet to place the couch between them.

“Come on, Daniel, just let me take care of you.”

“Go to hell, Vlad!”

“Tch.” Vlad dropped his hands, fingers dragging through his hair in exasperation. “Fine. You know what, fine. Have it your way. Perhaps some time experiencing the mania will help you understand my meaning.” He went to the door with a frustrating degree of calm. His suit cleanly pressed, not a strand misplaced in his hair, a total contrast to Danny who felt seconds away from collapsing on the floor.

“Do try to keep a hold of yourself, though,” Vlad said over his shoulder. “Your parents might be dead, but they are hardly the only ghost hunters around.”

He slammed the door shut.

Danny sank to his knees, arms wrapped around himself as he vigorously tried to rub his skin warm. What was wrong with him?

Was his sickness a few days ago related to this? He thought he just caught some sort of bug, or, or it was the stress of it all affecting his body, but the ice—

This wasn’t a normal sickness.

Vlad called it a mania. What did that mean?

He shook his head, arm reaching for the back of the couch and hauling himself up. Figuring out Vlad’s words wasn’t his biggest concern; right now, Danny needed a way to get rid of this ice. Talia and Mr. Dusan were coming over soon to go over his parents’ research, he needed to—

They can’t figure out that he’s—

Danny stumbled down to the lab, frantically looking for any of his parents’ inventions that could help get rid of the ice.

No. No. Not that. Not that either.

His arm suddenly went intangible, slipping through the lab bench. The sudden momentum made him lose balance and he hit his head on the side of the bench. He staggered upright, rubbing his pounding head. What was wrong with his powers? They hadn’t been this out of whack since he’d first gotten them in the accident.

A violent shiver ran through him, his breath coming out in a cold mist. Frost had begun to creep outwards from the soles of his shoes.

Danny stepped back. The frost followed.

His eyes darted around the room, mind racing for a solution. His frenzied gaze landed on the ghost portal, the entrance sealed shut by the heavy metal doors. Tucker once said that he noticed that Danny seemed to recover energy faster when he was in the Ghost Zone. They’d tested it at one point by letting the Box Ghost loose on the town and seeing how much energy Danny could recover if he rested in the material world versus the Ghost Zone.

It was still a working theory. Tucker and Sam wanted to test it out some more later.

They never got a chance.

It was a long shot but it was better than nothing.

He ran to the front of the portal where the genetic locking mechanism lay. But as Danny went to push the button, ice sparked from his fingers, freezing the lock solid.

“What? No!” He slammed his fist onto the ice but the ice wouldn’t break. “Nononono, this can’t be happening right now.”

He shivered, eyes holding a manic glint as he looked at the portal. “I’m going ghost!” Bright rings of light enveloped him, and suddenly it became impossibly colder.

Floating in the air, Danny curled in on himself, teeth chattering as he tried to regain his composure. He flew to the portal, willing himself intangible as he tried to go through the doors, but slammed into cold metal instead. Either whatever materials his parents made the door out of completely negated his intangibility or his powers were in really bad shape.

He got up, hands pressed against the portal doors. He willed himself intangible once more, but instead of his arms passing through the doors, a thick sheet of ice sprouted from his hands and started crawling up the portal. “No!”

Danny tore his hands away from the door but the ice kept growing and growing and growing. Stretched across the doors until it covered the entire entrance to the portal. Its jagged ends stopped past the octagonal metal frame and clung to the walls.

Oh god, This can’t get any worse.

“Danny?”

And then it did.

He took a deep breath. Like a deer in headlights, he turned around to see Talia and Mr. Dusan at the foot of the basement stairs. Talia was in front, a hand braced against the wall, one foot on the floor and one still on the step. Dusan, ever the statuesque figure, was right behind, hands still clasped behind his back. Their eyes were, mouth slightly agape at the sight of him.

It was then that Danny registered what Talia said.

The words tumbled out of him, “You recognized me?”

He clamped his mouth shut. Idiot.

Talia took her hand off the wall and stepped completely into the lab. “Of course, I would. You’re my son.”

The words sent a brief spark of warmth through his core. Not even his own parents recognized him when he was Phantom.

“I wasn’t aware that you were a meta, Danny.” She gracefully stepped around the patches of ice on the ground. “How long has this been going on?”

“Um, uh. A few months.” At this point, there really was no point in lying. “Since the start of the semester.”

“A lab accident, I presume.”

“Yeah….uh, how did you know?”

The corners of her mouth quirked up. “No one on my side of the family has the meta gene, and while your father is quite impressive, I’m very certain he does not have it either. An accident of some sort would be the only other option.”

He felt himself start to relax, muscles starting to relax at the sound of Talia’s calm voice. The shivers were still present, but somehow they were a little more bearable.

“Now why don’t you explain to us what happened?”

“I don’t—” Danny swallowed a lump in his throat. “I don’t even know what’s going on, much less where to begin. All I know is that I’ve been feeling out of sorts for the past few weeks. I thought I was just sick but apparently, it’s way more than that, and I don’t know what to do, I barely even know what I am, much less what’s wrong with me and that fever must have done something because ever since then my powers have been on the fritz and there’s this stupid ice that won’t melt and I can’t keep it under control and if I can’t keep my powers under control how am I supposed to hide the fact that I’m a fucking ghost —”

“Slow down, slow down. You’re starting to panic. Now, I need you to take a few deep breaths for me,” she said, now a few feet away from Danny. “In for four…hold for seven…yes that’s it, you’re doing well…and out for eight.”

Calm began to seep back into Danny with each breath, his mind no longer racing a million miles an hour. “Thank you— thanks, I, um, I feel much better now.”

“That’s good. Now, what was that about ghosts?”

“Uh, that I am one? Sort of? It’s complicated.”

“I guess we can get the full story later. Does anyone else know about this?”

“No, no one.” He paused, then grimaced. “Well, there’s one other person. He’s sort of like me and, before you ask, I can’t tell you who he is. The only other people who knew about me are the other ghosts and…Sam and Tucker.”

“Not your parents?” Dusan, who had been a silent observer till now, stepped closer.

Danny shook his head. “No, I— I never got the chance to tell them. At first, I wanted to keep it a secret because I didn’t want them to know about the accident, but afterward, it just became harder and harder, what with their research and ghosts and the government and I just…” He sank back down to the floor, despondent. “I just didn’t want them to feel…guilty, I guess.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “It doesn’t matter now, though. It’s too late to tell them either way.”

“Oh, Danny, habibi. My poor child.” Talia extended her arms out to embrace him, but Danny stepped back.

“I don’t— my powers they’re— I don’t want to hurt you.”

She smiled. “You won’t. Trust me.”

Danny…Danny found himself trusting her. He let the transformation fall, taking one step closer to Talia, his hand stretched out. Their hands touched, and Talia’s words rang true. The ice did not touch her, nor did the frost, and Danny breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Well, this would certainly complicate the matters of your guardianship,” Dusan said, now a few feet away from them. “If I am of the correct assumption that you have no wish for anyone to know of your status. What of the man you mentioned—the one who is like you—could he take you in?”

“No. Never. That man is not an option.”

Talia carded her fingers through Danny’s hair in a soothing motion. “It is a shame we could not make a strong enough case to take custody of you.” She paused, humming pensively. “Although…” Turning to Dusan, she continued. “Do you think father would…?”

Dusan considered it. “Well, he would certainly be delighted at the prospect of another grandchild, especially one like Danny. But you know how he is.”

Danny looked at them inquisitively. Talia turned her attention back to him. “Our father—your grandfather—is a very powerful man. But he is a very secretive man, and much of his influence is in secrets and shadows. Much of his machinations he prefers to keep in the dark. But if you were willing to prove yourself to him, then it is not beyond his power to craft you a new life.”

“You—you’re talking about a new identity.”

“Daniel Fenton could never be with us,” Dusan said. “But Danyal al Ghul on the other hand….”

“I…” Danny lowered his gaze to the floor. Well, he was prepared, on some level, to give up his name. He had plans to run away, and going by ‘Danny Fenton’ would just be putting a target on his back if Vlad decided to look for him.

“We could be a family, Danny,” Talia whispered. “Like we always should have been.”

Family. The words felt warm inside his chest. At the back of his mind, his core hummed eagerly at the prospect. Family-family-a-place-to-belong.

But to give up his name…to give up his life …would he really be willing to do that? But if he wasn’t, then being handed over to Vlad might as well be—

( Red eyes. A looming shadow. Screams unheard because of the explosion. A world in ruin. Inevitable. Inevitable.)

“ I’ll do it.” He steeled his resolve. There was no other choice. “I’ll go with you. What do I have to do?”

Talia grinned wide. Dusan’s eyes gleamed with approval.

“Simple,” he said. “We must kill Danny Fenton.”

#dpxdc #phantom children: redux #my writing

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wastefulreverie · 2 years

Text

anubis calling

Valerie grapples with Vlad’s death. written for day 31 of ectober month 2021: insomnia / blood moon more parts of this series: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Valerie hadn't slept much since that night. Her father suggested melatonin capsules, but they never seemed to do the trick. Her muscles would relax and she'd slip into a calm stupor but release from consciousness would never come.

She didn't go to school either. Mr. Lancer had stopped by her apartment a number of times since Vlad's death. Her father was always at work when the school called and Valerie never picked up the home phone herself. The first few times he'd visited Valerie, he'd used words like truancy and expulsion, but as the frequency of his visits increased she could see the worry deepen in his brow.

She wondered how she looked to him.

She knew that she didn't look well, not to herself.

The bags underneath her eyes were pronounced and dark, her hair unkempt and needing more maintenance than Valerie had energy for. Each day her hair grew worse and she couldn't find a reason to care.

Not after what she'd seen.

Not after what she'd done.

She still hadn't made sense of it all, and that was the worst part.

No, that was a lie.

The worst parts were what she'd already pieced together, what she knew now.

Valerie knew that she'd killed a man, a man that she'd thought she'd trusted. And she hadn't even given him a chance to explain himself, she'd been so overwrought with terror that she'd shot before she collected her thoughts. And then everything happened in a rush, the explosions. The screams that left ringing in her ears, even now.

And then she couldn't see or breathe or move and she was dead—!

But she wasn't. She'd made it out, somehow. Well, at least physically she made it out. Something inside of her must have died then, because she still couldn't sleep. What little sleep she had was ridden with nightmares, flashes of that night.

She couldn't stop the memories once they started either. Everything escalated so fast, one event running into another. And before she knew it Valerie was screaming into her pillow, grabbing fistfuls of her comforter. Her father tried to calm her at first, making her chamomile tea and whispering soft assurances that she was safe now, that he wouldn't let anything hurt her again.

She didn't have the heart to tell her father that she wasn't afraid of getting hurt.

That she was afraid that she'd leave more death in her wake. She was a killer.

Gradually, her father grew more and more distant each night. Some nights he still tried comforting her, making her chamomile tea and rubbing vanilla lotion across her palm. Other nights he was gone, asleep in his own bed, waiting until her screams dissolved into a fit of silent sobs.

She couldn't fault him. He had to sleep too, after all.

The mornings were the hardest. Wiping her tears and struggling to make simple conversation because her throat was still raw from the night before. Her father would encourage her to go back to school, just for one day.

"The first day is the hardest, sweetie! If you just do this one day, it'll be easier with each day going forward."

Valerie didn't look up from her cereal. It was soggy. She hadn't wanted cereal, but her father had poured it for her. Insisting.

"Please, Valerie. I'm just trying to understand why you won't give school another shot! Nothing bad happened at school."

No, nothing bad happened at school. But people were there. People were reminders.

Specifically, one person was a reminder of—

No, no, no! Don't think. If you start remembering you won't stop remembering.

(You can't remember that day now. You remember enough at night.)

Instead, Valerie brought a spoonful of cereal to her lips. The texture reminded her of paper-mache. It took everything in her power not to spit it out on the spot.

"Val…"

"Maybe tomorrow," she said. "Not now."

Her father deflated, looking torn. "Val. I know whatever's been going on has been hard for you. Mr. Masters was your benefactor and it must've been hard to watch him pass, but you can't let this eat at you. He'd want you to keep living."

She wasn't sure what Vlad would want now. Vlad Masters was an enigma she'd never have the chance to unravel because she'd killed him in cold blood.

"If you don't want to talk about it with me, I understand. But… if you want I can find someone else for you to talk with?"

Oh, and now he wanted her to see a shrink.

All things considered, that was probably fair—she was a mess of a person that was ruining her father's life. Not that she'd agree to talk with one.

"We can't afford a therapist," she reasoned. "I'm fine."

"Sweetie, when it comes to your wellbeing I don't think price is an issue."

"But I'm fine." "Val, look me in the eye."

But the cereal was so captivating, as gross as it tasted.

He sighed. "Valerie Rhiannon Gray."

Oh, he just had to play the middle name card. Didn't he? In moments like these, Valerie hated that she was named after her mother. She could never ignore him when he spoke her mother's name. It felt wrong. Reminding Valerie that she could never live up to the woman that had raised her.

(Especially not now.)

Reluctantly, she looked up from the pool of milk and Spook-E-Os (Amity Park's favorite cereal!). She found that her father's deep brown eyes were brimming with sadness, guilt. The tension at the table was almost palpable.

"Why won't you talk about it? You're not fine and you're not getting better. I can't—I can't stand to see you like this!" He placed his head in his hands. "Not after your mother. I can't do this again, Val."

She was hurting him.

Her doing this, wallowing in her own misery, was hurting her father.

God, she hated herself. She wished this was all over. She wished that she'd never gone down to Vlad's lab that night. She'd just meant to ask about when she'd receive her next compensation because it'd been far too long since he'd last paid her. That's all! Just a question, something she could've honestly written an email for.

But no.

She'd ventured down into his laboratory. The same laboratory he'd told her never to visit without his permission.

Valerie had… had heard sounds at the door. They weren't good sounds. They were wet sounds and tearing noises and muffled screams. She could see green light through the crack of the door and feared for Vlad's life. She'd thought her benefactor had maybe been captured by ghosts and that they were hurting him.

When Valerie had thrown open the door to the laboratory she'd found Vlad Masters standing at an operating table, donning a brown apron smeared with streaks of red and green. On the table was a young boy, no older than her. His chest was sliced open, flaps of skin pinned back to expose the contents of his chest cavity. Glistening organs, red and pink with an unnatural green sheen to them.

She'd almost dropped her weapon in shock when her brain caught up with her eyes. Because she recognized the body on the table.

It was Danny Fenton.

She'd know his hair anywhere, black and swept up so that it just drooped over his eyes. There was a gag in his mouth, which might have once been white, but was now stained green. His blue eyes were blown wide in anguish, in pain.

Vlad, on the other hand, seemed to relish Danny's screams. His fingers were clutched around something that Valerie couldn't make out, something pulsing and dripping and holy-shit-is-that-a-heart-what-the-FUCK—!

"Oh, don't you worry, Little Badger. I'll give it back," Vlad crowed, his smile not once leaving his face. "You know in Ancient Egypt, they would weigh the heart to see if it was light enough for passage into the afterlife. I wonder if yours would pass…"

Valerie couldn't think. No, that's wrong.

She was thinking too much, too fast. Too many thoughts to process, too many feelings to unravel. What she thought she knew wasn't aligning with what she was seeing. Danny Fenton was dying. Vlad Masters was killing him, experimenting on him. Vlad Masters, the man that had given her a second chance; the man that had put a gun in her hand; the man that was holding Danny Fenton's heart.

Phantom always said that she never thought before she took a shot.

Well, he was wrong. Valerie was thinking now.

There were many things she didn't know, but the one thing she understood with every fiber of her being was this: Vlad Masters must be stopped.

Silently as she'd crept into the lab, Valerie stepped forward to get a better vantage. She aimed her weapon, lining her line of fire with Vlad's shoulder.

Vlad was none the wiser, too engrossed in the moment. This was her chance.

"Will your heart pass, Mr. Masters?" she whispered.

By the time Vlad turned his head, Valerie had already pulled the trigger. The shot hit its mark. Vlad's shoulder sizzled with pink ooze and he stumbled to the side. But that wasn't all. Her shot kept going, it went through Vlad's shoulder and hit the tank behind him. There was a brief flash of green before the lab was thrust into darkness with a BANG.

The laboratory exploded in a dizzying maelstrom of force. The only thing that kept Valerie on her feet was her suit's automated momentum. In the center of the room, something was glowing and Valerie could faintly make out that it was Danny. Eyes that had once been blue were now toxic green. In the chaos, the gag had slipped out of his mouth. She didn't have any time to think before the screaming started, louder than anything she'd ever heard before. She was certain that her ears were bleeding…

The screams themselves were their own force, bringing down the ceiling above. In the darkness, Valerie could just make out Vlad's figure as it was propelled into a pillar of debris.

She could still feel the weight of the mansion in her bones. She could still hear Danny's screams dissolve into gurgles before he ceased to be.

Gone.

All that Valerie had left was the light in her visor, dim but enough to dig herself out of the wreckage. It was a tedious effort and felt like hours, but her armor spared her from most injuries. In the time she'd made her way to the surface, Phantom had already arrived on the scene. He helped her shove the last of the wreckage off of her, tenderly pulling her to her feet.

She hated Phantom. He was her sworn enemy, the bane of her existence.

Yet, when he found her she pulled him into a hug and cried into his shoulder. His hair smelled like tea tree oil and mint. Ghosts shouldn't need shampoo, but Valerie found the scent comforting.

Sometime in the next few minutes he'd asked her what happened and she struggled to explain. How could she convey what she'd just done? What she'd just seen? That Vlad Masters and Danny Fenton were lying at the bottom of the wreckage and that it was all her fault.

One of Vlad's Packers mementos flapped in the wind. She shouldn't remember that small detail, but the surrealness of it all cemented it in her memory.

"Val, you can take your time. I just have to know, are you still in danger? Where's Vlad?"

She picked up on the unsaid implication at once. Phantom thought that Vlad Masters was a danger.

He wasn't even wrong.

"I think he's dead."

Phantom shook his head. "Not Vlad. Vlad pulls through."

"Vlad is dead," she said, "and so is Danny Fenton."

Phantom stared and took a hesitant step backward.

"How do you mean that?" he asked. "That they're dead, I mean?"

"I mean they're dead, stupid! They were in the lab before—before I—" she cut herself off.

Before I killed them.

Phantom looked even more confused. "Danny Fenton was in Vlad Masters lab? We're talking son of Jack and Maddie Fenton, right? That one?"

"Who the fuck else!"

"What was he doing there?" Something in Phantom's face changed. "What was… what was Vlad doing to him?"

How much did he know? Was he… he couldn't be complicit in this, could he?

"It was—" she hiccuped. "It was bad. He was killing him. It was torture, some kind of… experimentation. I don't fucking know. It's the worst thing I've ever seen. I loved Danny once… and I watched Vlad pull him apart from the inside out."

Phantom looked shaken. He didn't often lose his heroic demeanor.

All of it together made Valerie want to crawl back underneath the wreckage and let the weight of the world squeeze all the oxygen out of her lungs.

"Vlad vivisected Danny Fenton." Phantom's voice shook. "He… he gutted him."

Phantom dropped out of the air and onto the ground. He lowered himself to the ground, broken glass and all, and sat cross-legged.

"I tried to stop him. But my shot… it caused the entire mansion to fall on us." Valerie threw her head in her hands. "I did this. I did this! I didn't want this! None of it!"

"I know," he said. There was a beat of silence. "Val, can you sit down?"

Everything in her screamed NO. She didn't want to do what the ghost said. She didn't follow Phantom's orders.

Except Valerie was tired of fighting. Against her judgment she obliged.

"I'm not sure if Vlad… made it or not," Phantom said, "but I can tell you with certainty that Danny made it. It sounds insane, but that wasn't the real Danny."

He was fucking with her, trying to make her doubt what she'd seen. She knew what she'd seen, knew what she'd witnessed. No ghost would gaslight her.

"Excuse me?"

"I know, I know!" He raised his hands in a 'desist' gesture. "Vlad has a history with illegal cloning. He's hung up on Maddie Fenton and wants Danny as a son of his own. So he's made clones of Danny, but he's never satisfied with them. He doesn't see them as real people and will do anything to improve his cloning results. So he… experiments on the failures. It's fucked up and inhumane and I can't stop him. I knew he was killing them, but I didn't know how. I—" Phantom ran a hand down his face "I'm so sorry you had to see that."

Cloning? Wasn't that a bit too sci-fi? Too much of a convenient explanation?

"Prove it," she challenged.

"What?"

"Prove that what I saw was a clone," she said. "We may be ghost hunters, but I'm not gullible."

He pursed his lips. "If I prove it… you'll have more questions than answers, Val."

"Bull."

… it hadn't been bull.

It was days later and Valerie still couldn't sort out the intricacies between Danny Fenton and Phantom. She couldn't wrap her brain around the notion that they were the same person. She also couldn't process that Vlad had been a half-ghost the full time. Not immortal, but close to it.

How could she express any of this turmoil to her poor father, who just wanted his daughter to take care of herself again? How could she express this to her father she kept up at night, screaming into her own pillow?

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she whispered. "I'm sorry I'm like this."

Across the breakfast table, her father shook his head. "You have nothing to be sorry about. I know this is rough, I just want you to get the help you need. Please, let me help you. You don't need to talk to me, just someone. Anyone."

Valerie didn't want to talk.

She wanted to bottle it up and keep it where she never needed to think about it.

Though that was turning out to be a poor strategy so far and she doubted that things would start swinging her way anytime soon.

Her father was right, whether she liked it or not.

(She didn't like it.)

Nonetheless, the next words left her lips before she'd had time to think them.

"Jazz Fenton."

Her father raised a brow. "Danny's sister? The girl with all the college scholarships? Not that I'm disapproving, but why her?"

Danny mentioned she knew about him being Phantom. She knew about Vlad. She knew about the Red Huntress.

If she had to pick anyone to keep her secrets, a good option was someone who already knew it all. Plus, her interest in psychology was a selling point too.

"I just have a hunch."

"Alright, sweetie. But if you ever want someone more… well, licensed, just let me know. I'll hold you to it. I'm gonna trust that you reach out to this girl soon. Not 'eventually.'"

She nodded. "I will."

"Good." Her father stood from the table and moved to exit the room. He gave her a peck on the cheek. "I have to go to work now. Take care of yourself, Val."

"I will."

Her father left her alone.

And for the first time in weeks, Valerie had a restful nap on the living room couch.

#Danny Phantom #Valerie Gray #Vlad Masters #Danny Fenton #Fanfiction #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #Vivisection #Dissection #Angst #Depression #Ectober Week 2021 #Ectoberhaunt 2021 #Ectoberhaunt Trick #TW Dissection #TW Vivisection

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vicious-vixxxen · 3 years

Note

Hi, first of all ur work is amazing and awesome, especially the Kiri fics they make me feel so warm inside :)) ANYWAYS I have a drabble idea: Katsuki with a flirty male reader from 1-B that likes to tease him and make him flustered and fired up as much as possible (kinda like Monoma but not as aggressive) and finally Katsuki decides that it’s reader’s turn to get all flustered and blushing and all that hehe :)

AH I absolutely LOVE this idea! Sorry it took me so long to get to it babes, but I hope you enjoy it :3 <3 Bakugou Katsuki X Flirty Male!Reader

“You think /you’re/ tired? I heard class A had to go through ten times the beasts we did yesterday, /and/ they didn’t get to camp until five.” TetsuTetsu huffed, rolling his eyes as he continued to rub at his sore biceps- falling behind as the class walked to their first official day of training. “They’re probably still struggling to work as an actual unit, how disappointing,” Monoma drawled, flinching as Kendo raised a hand at him in warning- her gaze cutting back to you with an apologetic smile, but you shrugged her off. “I’m just saying, if they were half as good as everyone assumes they are, then we wouldn’t have had to make dinner for everyone /alone/ yesterday. A bunch of unimpressive slackers, the fame is definitely getting to them.” “Oh give it a rest, Monoma! I swear if I have to keep listening to your incessant whining i’m going to roundhouse you so hard you slip into an alternate dimension,” You teased, though the sharpness of your tone, and the look you fixed the other boy with managed to reduce him to nothing more than some bitter grumbling, as you jogged ahead to follow directly behind Vlad-Sensei.

“Young Y/N is right! No use in comparing yourself to a separately tiered class, what you all should be doing is preparing yourselves for a day full of grueling training!” Vlad called out to the class behind him, as they came to their final stop. Looking out across the vast fields of the camp, where class 1A was already deep in training. All of them spread out to various areas of the site, some farther out than others, you assumed due to the volatile nature of their quirks. Some out of site all together, given the specificity needed to train their quirks. “The Wild Wild Pussycats have strict regimens for you all to follow, and I as well have critiques for you all regarding your fighting style, and quirk application. Check in with them across the field first, and regroup back to me so we can begin!” “Yes Sensei!” You all chanted back, before hurrying off across the field to do as you were told. Though once you caught sight of- and really, it was more his blood curdling death screams that you noticed first, music to your ears honestly- unruly blonde spikes off in the distance, you reasoned you had at least a few minutes to spare. Giving your classmates time to get their schedules and regimes before you could swoop in for yours last minute. The heat from Bakugou’s blasts was intense- your hair blowing back each time the other boy extended his palms to the sky, screamed, and released an explosion. The air felt thick, the scent of sweaty flesh, and deep, rich caramel wafting against your face, heady, and thick, with each blast. It was intoxicating. The closer you got, the more your cheeks flushed- though it had nothing to do with the heat anymore. Up close, or as close as you could get without being blown back entirely, that is- the more handsome Bakugou became. Pinched, angry expression and all. His front fringe of hair hanging low on his forehead, dripping sweat down onto his cheeks, and then onto the exposed upper half of his chest, bared due to his low rising tank top. When was Bakugou not absolutely breathtaking, you wondered idly, as you reached into your backpack for a bottle of water, and whistled loudly between blasts to catch the blonde's attention. Though the glare he fixed you with as your eyes met almost, almost deterred you from closing the distance between you both, it didn’t quite reach the innermost parts of your brain, meant for rational thought. “What the hell do you want!? Can’t you see i’m busy? Take your ass back to your class, extra!” Bakugou shouted, gaze falling to the bottle of water in your hand, before he focused back in on his task, baring his teeth in pain as the boiling water engulfed his hands. But you were too close now, it was too risky, and before you could think to back away on your own, Bakugou was crowding up against you. Spinning around on his heels and blasting in the opposite direction, back to you now. Shoving you backwards so hard with his own body you fell to the ground. Hissing as you landed on a particularly sharp rock. “See what you did?! I could’ve accidentally taken someone else out because of you! Fucking...gimme that,” Bakugou growled, shaking his hands of the smoke from his blast, before bending down to snatch the chilled bottle of water from your hand with one of his- his other reaching down to take hold of the front of your shirt, and tug you back up to stand next to him. “Always in my way!” Bakugou hissed, before throwing his head back and chugging down the entire bottle in a matter of seconds. Wiping at his mouth roughly, he turned to you slightly, noting the mischievous smile on your face, and the dirt on your shorts. “Tch...what?” He asked, knowing he was walking himself right into a trap. “Just admiring the view,” You sing-songed, skirting around his sudden extended fist easily, and dancing around the boy to get a good look at his training clothes. “It’s not everyday I get to see UA’s own Bakugou Katsuki in the midst of an intense training session. All sweaty, and bulking- muscles just….grr,” You laughed, holding your hands up in front of your face as you growled and made pawing motions at the other boy- bursting into a fit of laughter ass he reeled back, blush high on his cheeks, fingers twitching with the urge to blas your fucking face off. “You’re an insufferable piece of!-” “What I can’t seem to wrap my head around, is how you have such a big chest, such defined shoulders, and such a teeny, tiny waist,” You sighed, cutting Bakugou off with your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side curiously as you scanned him up and down. “Your tits are bigger than most of the girls in your class, ya know,” You added, as if an afterthought, waving a hand passively at the thought, though you couldn’t help but grin as Bakugou charged you- dragging you up by the front of your shirt again, and pinning you to the barrel of boiling water. One hand holding your head down near the bubbling surface, and one right next to your ear, sparking with unlit nitroglycerin. “I. Don’t. Have. Tits. You. Shitty. Extra.” Each word was laced with venom, husky and full of rage right next to your ear, and god. Was it fucked up you were kind of turned on? Probably. About as fucked up as it was to be genuinely attracted to Bakugou in the first place, you supposed. Oh well. Not much to be done about it now. “Say that to the mounds pressing up against my back right now, babe,” You teased, turning your head to face Bakugou, your noses barely brushing as you leaned in as best you could, given the hand in your hair- mouth curling into a knowing smirk as Bakugou’s face twisted back and forth- confusion, rage, annoyance, misunderstanding...want. “I’m sure your teacher would be thrilled to see you over here keeping one of my students from his training, instead of focusing on your own abilities,” Someone sighed from your right, and both you and Bakugou’s head whipped up to see Aizawa leaning against a tree, staring at the both of you with the most bored expression you could imagine someone having. “Tried to get the loser away from me, but he’s as persistent as the rest of his annoying class,” Bakugou huffed, letting you go, but not before pushing you in the direction of his teacher roughly- crackling his knuckles out in front of himself, and shaking his hands out. Prepared to continue his training. Though thoughts of your stupid face, so close to his- scent of your shampoo, and minty breath still searing his nose made him a trillion times more annoyed then he’d already been. The color of your eyes stuck with him the most though. So clear. So shiny. Full of authority, of mirth, and something so...gut wrenchingly /cute/, he couldn’t stand it. “Sorry, EraserHead. Didn’t mean to disturb your student. Was just being friendly is all,” You assured the older Hero, hands up in surrender as you walked alongside side him, and back to regroup with your class- smiling smugly to yourself when you noticed the barest hint of a smirk on Eraserheads face, just before he turned away and skulked off to whatever dark, cozy corner he had been observing his students from.

Training felt like it had lasted forever, and then some. The following days were no easier. Your bodies were pushed to their limits, and then thrown off the metaphorical cliff afterwards. Every day, class A and B were sore, tired, irritable. But even then, once lunch, and dinner came around, it offered you all a chance to get to know one another more intimately. You talked, and mingled with class 1A- flirting with Todoroki for fun, and picking Midoriya’s brain about his hero notebook- unaware of the red eyes following your every move amongst the classmates. Your flirting with Bakugou was at an all time high- given you could usually spare a handful of minutes each day teasing the young man, whether it be with words during training, lingering touches, or brushes of hands, and legs during dinner, or with outright winks, and kisses blown to the blonde as you all departed to your cabins for the night. It infuriated Bakugou to no end. Your presence. The way he acted out against you...his mother would suggest he needed an attitude adjustment, and that he should allow the fun part of camp to take precedent over his ultimate number one hero goal. As if he’d ever. But still, her frustrated words of encouragement never ceased to ease up as the days went by, and you became bolder with your flirting. Bakugou felt on edge constantly, like someone was going to crack a whip at him at any moment. Say something about it, say something about /him/, but no one ever did. Probably because they were scared. His only saving grace, he supposed. Being intimidating. Though he didn’t intimidate /you/, which was the part he hated the most. ...He’d just have to switch up his tactics, then. His mother would be proud. God, he hated that. After a particularly grueling day of training, everyone was running on fumes, more or less, as they shuffled around the outdoor kitchen, prepping dinner lazily. Monoma picking stupid fights with whoever he came across first, as though he were too tired to even do that. You’d been chatting quietly to Mina and Jirou about some of your favorite albums, when a whistle from across the counters had all three of you lifting your heads. Curiosity piqued to the fullest extent, as your gaze landed on Bakugou- pointing at you with a hard expression, before gesturing to the spot next to him at the cutting board station. His eyes downcast again before you could even register what was going on, before hurrying to head over before whatever demon that had possessed Bakugou, decided to get the fuck out of such a toxic human host. Beaming, you came to stand at Bakugou’s side, arms brushing against each other as you glanced down at the finely minced veggies the boy was working on. “You rang?” Brows raised in question, you ducked your head to try and catch the boy’s eyes again- stopping dead in your tracks as he grabbed a hold of your wrist tightly, and slid a knife between your fingers. Tugging you impossibly closer to his side, and reaching an arm around you to grab a stray carrot. Boxing you into the bench, and maneuvering your fingers carefully as he began to force you to chop the carrot below. His front was flush with your back, and suddenly you couldn’t breath. Breath hitched in your throat, flush high on your cheeks, as Bakugou bent down, face right next to yours, as he forced you to chop, knife always skirting a little /too/ close to your fingertips, but fuck it all if you weren’t willing to lose them for this encounter to continue. “All this time and you haven’t even learned to chop properly. Make yourself more useful, you shitty extra,” He grunted, right into your ear. A sharp shock of arousal shooting down your spine as he spoke, looking away suddenly as Bakugou turned to try and meet your gaze. “Eh? What’s the problem, extra? Cat got your fucking tongue?’ He teased, harshly, though his grasp on your hands lessened, and fuck you were gonna pass out if you didn’t start breathing soon. “Oh,” He huffed suddenly, snickering under his breath, as he crowded you in up against the bench entirely, completely flush with your back, before his lips ghosted the shelf of your ear, and he whispered “-probably because of my big tits, huh? Tch.” And then he was gone. Gone from your back, gone from the shell of your ear, gone from giving you a religious fucking experience, and thankfully gone from nearly making you jizz your jeans in front of the entireety of class A and B. Your hands shook where they now held the knife solo, and you glanced over your shoulder- watching Bakugou stuff his hands in his pockets, arch his shoulders, and stalk off to the cabins. Though not before you also caught the sharp, devilish smirk that twisted up on his face. What a fucking DICK. But a dick who was handsome as fuck, and knew exactly what he was doing. “Alright, Bakugou, you wanna play, big boy?” You whispered to yourself, voice shaky as you continued chopping vegetables. “I’ll bite. Show you how it’s done...right after I pass out, Jesus fucking Chri-”

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dp-marvel94 · 3 years

Text

Dan Redemption with a twist

So I'm still geeking out over my ask that @stillebesat answered a few days ago, the one where about an upcoming fic. I've been playing around with a really similar idea, with a redeemed Dan fusing with a clone of Danny, for months now.

Here's my idea:

First of all, my preferred version of Dan is basically Danny but evil. He less fused with Plasmius and more consumed his powers so Dan doesn't have any of Vlad's memories. Next, I'm a big fan of the idea that Dan deeply regrets killing his human half and is, for lack of a better word, haunted by the action. It was the first death of his reign of terror, his final chance to turn back from the dark path he was on and...it was his suicide.

Now, Dan doesn't realize any of this for what feels like centuries. He's trapped in the Fenton thermos in Clockwork's lair, alone with only his thoughts. And the knowledge starts creeping in, all that he'd lost, all that he'd done. He realizes that he misses his friends and family and to his surprise, he hopes his younger self saved them. But then he realized that he tried to kill them. And the guilt starts creeping in. The regret follows and he remembers all the rest of his crimes. He doesn't have enough humanity, enough emotional capacity to be wrecked but he's no longer a rage fueled destructive monster.

Then to Dan's shook, Clockwork releases him without a word. The master of time dumps him in the new timeline, maybe a few months after the events of TUE. To his dim relief, Dan finds that his friends and family are all still alive. He watches them for a while, trying to process where he is and what happened. But then he runs into Danny. And things don't go well. It's a rocky start. Danny does not trust Dan at all. He doesn't trust that the older ghost has no intention of hurting his loved ones. Danny is ready and willing to fight and recapture him. The younger's opinion doesn't change until Dan saves him and Jazz during a ghost attack. The two ghosts, at Jazz's insistence, come to an uneasy impasse. Danny will leave Dan alone if the older ghost leaves him and his family alone. Dan isn't really happy about this arrangement but it's better than being trapped in the thermos again and he does have no intention of hurting his younger counterpart or his loved ones.

So Dan concedes. He stays out of Danny's way. He watches. He catches glimpses of his former friends and family from a distance. And it hurts. Dan feels out of place, disconnected. This isn't his time, isn't his place. He's stuck on the outside looking in... and this timeline already has a Danny, one who didn't make the aggresous mistakes he did. And those mistakes... the guilt's still there but like all other emotions, it's dim and distant. That's how it's been since his death, with every emotion but rage. But still, Dan does not like being on the outside looking in. He needs to do something else with himself, find some place he can belong.

Then Dan remembers Vlad. He had gone to the older half ghost after losing everything. And... Vlad had tried to help him. Separating the then halfa at his request had been a horrible idea but Vlad had been trying. Vlad did care about him. And.... the man must be so lonely now. Lonely like Dan himself is.

It's something of a wim but Dan goes to the older halfa. And at first, it's a surprise to Vlad and then seemingly a dream come true. Here in front of him is a version of Daniel who wants to stay by his side willingly. This Dan is more powerful and experienced than his younger counterpart, though not as experienced as Vlad. The young man is willing to be taught and all he seemingly wants is companionship. Yes, it would be a dream come true except...

Dan will not tolerate any of Vlad's shit. He will not be used to hurt anyone ever again. He will not take part in any of Vlad's schemes against the Fentons. It's a high price to pay but the older man backs off. Vlad is content to not be alone and have a chance to convince Dan to work with him.

So Dan stays with Vlad. With the older man busy with work, Dan has free reign of the mansion for most of the day. In some ways, it's nice. Away from Amity Park, there's no temptation to check on his former loved ones. His longing for a life he can no longer have is diminished. Vlad's mansion provides ample distraction, in the library, the game room, the gardens. But... the days are long and often lonely and the nights... they're even worse. The large building, empty and quiet, it's too much like a time Dan wishes he could forget. The memories are stronger now. After the fiery explosion...weeks of weeping in his room. Somber diners with Vlad where he couldn't force himself to eat. Waking up from another nightmare.

Without his humanity, the grief isn't as soul wrenching as it should be. But it's ever present, the memories on repeat. And there is little to break them up. As a ghost, Dan cannot sleep. He cannot eat. He can't truly feel the sun on his face or the comforting chill of the water on the pool. All physical sensations are dimmed.

And Dan starts to realize, it's excruciating. He feels incomplete, like there's a gapping whole in his chest. The memories of his own death, seen from the outside, return. His own icy blue eyes wide with fear and pain. Red blood spattered on his face. It's horrifying. Or it should be. If Dan could muster up more than the dimmest shadow of the emotion. But he can't, because the part of him that could died 10 years ago. And... this is wrong. He is wrong.

He should have died completely as himself, as Danny Fenton. He shouldn't have watched his death from the outside by his own hands. He shouldn't be this half being that couldn't even be bothered to die properly.

Dan stews, a forgotten anger growing as he longs for something he'd once wanted rid of. His human self, his Fenton, his humanity... he wants it. He wants to be truly, completely himself again. He wants to be whole enough to fade, to move on.

But that is the problem with ghosts, especially one like him. They do not change. They do not move on. As much as Dan acts like he is older, like he is different, he is not. He's the same angry, broken teen that he was ten years ago. And he will never be anything else.

Dan rages, trashing Vlad's training room. Soon enough, his anger is spent and the young man comes back to his senses. Dan huffs in frustration and annoyance at himself. He'd rather enjoyed Vlad's training room and now the man himself will likely be cross with him. Dan does his best to put the room back in order and find something else to do.

But the pain, regret, and longing linger. At some level, Dan thinks he's being ridiculous. All his former loved ones are alive. Dan isn't alone. He has Vlad and the ability to determine his own future. This world wasn't ravaged by his hand. His mistakes have been erased. He should be free. Except...

No, his mistakes are not all erased. His own death returns to his mind over and over. He shouldn't think about, he shouldn't dwell on it but...

One day, Dan goes down to Vlad's secret lab. He knows he shouldn't. This is such a breach of Vlad's trust but... this is were it happened. The young man stares at the metal table. If he was capable of feelings cold, he would shiver. There, where he was pulled out of his body. That wall, he cornered his human half there, the boy cowering in fear. There, that control panel was spattered with his own blood.

Dan wishes he could cry but he's not human enough for that. He's not human at all. But he wishes he was.

Startled by the thought, the full ghost turns away. He shouldn't wish for things he can't have but... no. Dan's eyes flicker around the room, looking for small differences from his memories. Some of the equipment is laid out differently. There are different samples on the shelf and... that door wasn't there before.

Dan walks through and finds... metal and glass chambers in different degrees of construction. A few are filled with ectoplasm and there in the back... if Dan had a heart, it would stop. There in a clear pod with a breathing mask over his face is...Danny Fenton. No, that's not right. This isn't... this isn't his timeline. And his younger counterpart is in Amity Park so....

Dan frantically searches Vlad's computer, his notes for answers. Clones. Vlad had been trying to clone his younger half ghost counterpart. In the tube... clone 3. Fully human. Suffered mental decline from 2 weeks gestation and eventually brain death a month later. Body kept alive by machines since... the week Dan arrived.

Dan wishes he could feel shock. He wishes he could feel relief. From the data, this was the first attempt that even resembled something human. The others were by all measures animals, in no way sentient. And it appears Vlad hasn't continued working since Dan came to live with him. But still...

Dan confronts Vlad, asking about the experiments, about the clone kept on life support.

"I could not bear to pull the plug." Vlad answers, surprisingly sober. "I'd hoped his condition would improve." There is a far away look in his eyes, a longing. "I tried everything I could think of to stop the degradation but..." The older half ghost shook his head. "I'm continuing to monitor 3's status." There was a pain in Vlad voice. "I fear he won't live to see the outside of his chamber."

Vlad was in denial, Dan thinkd. This clone is gone, like his own human half. The heart still beats, the lungs still breath but...

He shock his head. "Before you approach me, I consider...if I could create a viable, ghostly clone and coax the spirit to hybridize with the body..."

The idea was ridiculous and he should be disgusted, hearing all Vlad had done, what he had planned but...

"That is all in the past now." Vlad finished sadly.

All in the past like the loss of his own human half. He shouldn't wish for things that he couldn't have but...

"I'm a viable ghost..." Dan could barely believe the words coming out his mouth. "Not a clone but... I am without a human side."

Vlad is staring at him like he has another head, something which Dan was sure he did not currently have. "Daniel...are you suggesting... what I think you are suggesting?"

Was he? It was ridiculous, impossible. He could not replace his human side by... possessing an animated corpse.

"No. I am not." Dan denied. "Forget I said anything."

Vlad gave a nod, dropping the conversation. But Dan did not forget. This idea... it was wrong. It was impossible. He couldn't be made a half ghost again. But...

The temptation. If anyone could get it to work, it would be Vlad. And if it did...the ghost floats to what had been his bedroom and laid down. If it worked, he could sleep. He could eat. He could go out in public with human. It would necessarily be a replacement for what he'd lost but...

No... this was wrong. This was basically a clone of himself whose body he wanted to steal. But... was it really? This was an empty body, no mind, no soul. It was mad science but... Dan was already the product of mad science.

And if it worked, not as an overshadowing but a hybrization... he could truly age, he could grow passed what happened. And he could feel more than the pale shadows he could now.

The next day, Dan asks Vlad for what he wants.

"Are you sure?" The man asked. "This could have unknown consequences on your body or your mind. You could even destabilize."

That gave Dan pause. This might not work. He might end up in unknown pain or even fade but... "this is worth the risk."

The pair work together, planning and experimenting. They give the body transfusions of Dan's ectoplasm. The younger ghost practices envisioning himself as a halfa again. He prepares himself.

"I will need to reduce you down to your core." Vlafd says solemnly.

Dan places his existence in Vlad's hands. After blowing off seemingly endless amounts of energy in a desolate portion of the Ghost Zone, the older halfa repeatedly shocks him with the Plasmius Maximus. Dan's body pops out of existence, leaving his core exposed.

As just a core, there is no sensation. No input. No output. It's terrifyingly like being in the thermos again. Dan knows he is being moved. Vlad is doing something to him but... there is nothing and too much at the same time.

Dan can not process. He is cradled. There is something beside him, something around him reaching out. Something is changing. He is changing. It is too much. Dan loses consciousness for the first time in ten years. It is not sleep. There is no dream. He can think one moment, separated from the world. And the next...

He is under water. Something is beeping. He feels light but heavy. Cold but warm. His center is fluttering, something straining and pounding. An emotion. Something that might be panic or fear suddenly rises in him, crashing over him as a wave. An equally panicked voice comes from in front of him. Then there's a sting in his neck. Sting? Pain? Pain, it's been so long since he felt pain. And... his neck? He has a neck again. Dan blacks out again.

The young man comes to again. There is still something beeping near his head. He's not under water now but laying on something soft. Soft and warm. Warm....Dan can feel that. His breath hitches. Breath... he feels lungs move on his chest. And...he feel heavy and warm. Something... something happened. He can't remember what...

Dan's eyes flutter open, falling on... Vlad.

The man's eyes met his, relief flashing across them. "Daniel." He sighs. "How do you feel?"

"Feel?" Dan crocks. Is that... is that his voice? "What...what happened?" The ghost (?) thinks he might know. "Did it work?" He whispered.

Dan's voice... his voice is high, like when he was a younger teen. It should feel strange but...

"Take a look." Vlad says, offering him a mirror.

Dan reaches forward with a shaking hand. His hand... it's not gloved, neither is it blue. It's.... he stares. It's a pale peach color like... his hands are smaller and thinner....

"Daniel." Vlad interrupts. "It's alright." He holds the mirror up and...

Dan meets blue eyes. His own blue eyes. Eyes he never thought he'd see again except on someone else. His eyes water as he reaches towards the mirror. "It worked."

His new heart is aching, a thousand emotions hitting him. Joy, happiness, relief, grief, guilt, regret. All of them are bigger, nearer, more real and soul-aching than it's been in years. He should be upset. He looks and sounds like a kid again. But... "I'm alive."

He is alive. And it is a joy. A gift. A promise. He will not waste this second chance.

The newly remade halfa is crying and...it's never felt so good.

#danny phantom #dan phantom #vlad plasmius #i know Dan's grossly ooc here but i do not care.#my post #my ficlet

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ayamari-no-goshi · 2 years

Text

To Join the Whispers (6)

AO3

Fandoms: Danny Phantom (DP) / DC universe

Summary: THIS IS A CROSSOVER A contact for the Batfamily passed along a rumor that the League of Assassins were investigating a small city called Amity Park. The old man and Tim managed to find evidence of unusual paranormal activity in the town. While they weren’t entirely certain it wasn’t just infested with metas, the locals believed the entities that haunted, for lack of a better word, the town were actual ghosts. If there was one thing Ra’s al Ghul didn’t need to get his grubby hands on, it was ghosts.That’s probably why Jason was doing this. He had the unfortunate luck to experience both death and resurrection in a way he’d never recommend to anyone else.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, and questionable mental health

Parings: none

Notes: originally uploaded to AO3. Cross-posted to tumblr. Jason Todd-centric

As they neared the entrance to the Portal, Danny received an update from Jazz. Apparently, someone tipped off the G.I.W. that something was happening at Masters’ mansion. As a result, their parents had gone to investigate which meant it was safe for them to return to the lab.

However, there was a different problem. Cass and Duke were supposed to be at the manor. Did Masters call that group in retaliation? Or was it just a fluke? Thankfully, those two didn’t show up on any scanners like he did.

Still, it was better to get a report. Dick appeared to already be trying to reach the others with his communicator, but there seemed to be an issue. Frowning, he called out repeatedly, but there didn’t seem to be a response.

Danny noticed the trouble. “You’re not going to have much luck until we get out of here. The ectoplasm causes a lot of interference with normal items. We have specially made communicators for this place.” He tapped at the piece of equipment in his ear.

“Oh…” Dick sent him a look. Bruce was going to be pissed. At least, they hadn’t caused an explosion, this time. That had to count for something. It also brought a question as to how well their masks recorded video of that place. That might work in his favor, at least to hide his scar. He’d forgotten about it in the heat of the moment.

About ten minutes later, Danny maneuvered the Speeder through the Portal and brought it to a gentle stop in the basement. Glad to be out of the world of the dead and away from the unsettling feeling it gave him, Jason exited the craft and stretched.

“Thanks for doing that, Danny.” He turned to watch rings of light wash over the kid, returning him to his human form. “So that’s how that works. Neat.”

“I think ‘neat’ is an understatement.” Dick appeared behind Danny and began working with the communicator again. He winced which meant it was back online and someone knew. Excusing himself, he began a quick explanation as to what happened.

“Will… uh… Nightwing be okay?” Jazz questioned after quickly checking Danny for any injuries. She had been waiting patiently for them. When her brother batted her away, she gave him a warm sisterly smile.

“Yeah, just job stuff. Losing touch with the others doesn’t usually go over well.” Jason gestured to one of the computers. “You mentioned something about Masters?”

“Yeah, come upstairs. It’s all over the news.”

After getting Dick’s attention and gesturing to where he was going, he followed Jazz and a still reserved Danny into the kitchen. A small TV set on the counter showed a man, who introduced himself as the weatherman, reporting a standoff between Masters and several heavily armed men in white suits. The Fenton parents stood behind Vlad, apparently supporting him.

“I’m surprised they haven’t blasted a hole in place yet,” Danny murmured darkly. “Do you know what set them off this time?”

“According to the news, someone called in an anonymous tip about a ghost attack. But Vlad stated he didn’t receive any warnings from his security until the Guys In White showed up.”

“And because it’s the Guys in White, they don’t want to back down until they’ve had a chance to destroy… excuse me, search the place.”

“Yep. I got a text from Sam stating her parents are about to mobilize. They can’t tolerate those idiots being anywhere near their home, especially when there is a high society event happening tonight. She said you and Tucker can stop by to watch, just bring the popcorn.”

A weak chuckle escaped Danny as he took a seat at the table. “Her parents really are a force of nature.”

“So, I have good and bad news.” Both Fenton kids jumped when Dick spoke. The fact he managed to sneak up on a ghost wasn’t lost on him as he gave a mischievous grin.

“Let me guess. Signal and Orphan are safely out, but B has his pants in a bunch because we went offline.”

“You get half credit.”

“Oh? Enlighten me.”

“Yeah, B’s not happy with us, but he’s more irritated that Masters dropped hints that he’s aware we’re looking into him. He also asked about you a couple times.”

“Weird.” After his death, his name became taboo during meetings with Bruce. That continued even after his slow reemergence into society. Now a days, it seemed most folk of high society understood he had been traumatized by something and resigned themselves to gossip instead of directly asking. “Wonder if he knows…” He gestured to himself.

“It’s hard to say. Vlad doesn’t seem to be as sensitive as I am to other ghosts, but if he suspects something, he might try recruiting you too,” Danny mentioned as he stared at his hands.

“Why?”

“Vlad spent twenty years alone,” Jazz hesitantly spoke up when Danny didn’t immediately answer. “He sees Danny like a kindred spirit and covets him… well, at least the idea of him. We’re not sure if he really wants a son or just someone he can completely dominate.”

Dick shared a look with him. “And maybe he thinks Hood would be another potential target?”

“Yeah… It’s…” Danny took a deep breath before continuing. He still wouldn’t look up at them. “It’s hard, you know? Both me and Vlad are stuck between two worlds, and it’s hard to say if we really belong to either of them anymore. It’s lonely. But…” he fiddled with his fingers, “Vlad’s become obsessive about it.”

“And because of the ghostly status, it’s gotten warped, right?” When Danny nodded, Jason did his best to ignore the look he could feel Dick giving him. Loneliness could destroy a person without them being contaminated with ectoplasm. With it possibly warping it, it was unsettling to picture that happening to another person. Sure, he now knew that’s what happened to him, but he was blinded by the green haze of living through it. “And since I’m an unknown, I’m currently an easier target to him.” He grimaced. “I guess I’ll have to wear that stupid belt at the fundraiser.”

That statement caused Danny to perk up a bit. “I thought it shocked you too?”

“It did. Red Robin tinkered with it enough that it now feels more like using a jackhammer than getting tased. The goal is to make sure it won’t hurt you either, but we’ll find out how far he got later tonight.”

“Speaking of which, we should probably go met up with the others.” Dick tapped his ear twice to let him know that the old man wanted them back immediately.

“Before you go,” Jazz spoke slowly as her eyes moved between all three heroes. Her furrowed brows suggested that she knew she was missing part of the conversation, “I think you might want a few things from our weapons’ vault.”

“That’s a good idea,” Danny agreed as he stood up and walked across the kitchen. His motions quickly became more animated even if he made no sound as he moved. “Mom and Dad only showed you what they currently sell.”

“Won’t your parents notice anything’s missing?” Jason had no qualms with getting new weaponry for free, but this didn’t quite feel right.

Jazz patted him on the arm as she followed her brother. “They won’t notice. They end up making so much over the years that it just gets stored away and never thought about again. Most of what Danny uses has been taken from the vault and adjusted by either one of us or one of his friends.”

Surprised Dick didn’t object, Jason followed the Fenton siblings from the room. Free weapons were free weapons after all.

…

After making sure they were both street ready, Jason and Dick made his way back to the others. Canvas bags full of a few new Fenton tech were carried on their backs.

Jack and Maddie really did a lot make a lot of weaponry. After seeing the sheer number of prototypes, Jason really questioned whether or not they were actually paranormal eradicators masquerading as paranormal researchers. Most of what they created were designed to seriously harm or even destroy a ghost. It was unsettling to watch how Danny didn’t change expression as he explained the effects.

One particular gun could even make miniature portals. The fact it even existed was a scientific marvel, but because there was a battery power issue, it had been cast aside for a new product like many others.

Knowing Jason preferred guns, Danny handed him a few rifle and pistol-styled blasters. While they were lighter than what he was used to, their size and shape felt comfortable. They also had the added bonus that their very presence would annoy Bruce.

Danny also packed a few staff-like weapons for Dick and Tim. One of which could even become like a three-sectioned staff which Duke might like. There was even something akin to a sword for Damien. From what he knew, Cass didn’t have a preferred weapon like him and the others, but there was still enough variation that she might find something she liked. Overall, it was a good haul.

But it wasn’t good enough of a haul to wipe off the angry scowl off Bruce’s face when they arrived back in the hotel. Jason just rolled his eyes as he put down his bag of goodies and began sorting through it. He’d prefer to get familiarized with them while he still had some time. Better to know the weapon and its faults beforehand instead of finding out on the fly.

Bruce hovered near his shoulder while he worked. There was a sense of disapproval radiating from the man, but he didn’t say anything. So, to get the man to back off, Jason decided to explain what they were. Only some of Bruce’s disappointment waned.

However, he and the others couldn’t keep away from the new toys for long, especially after Dick unveiled what he had. Damien especially seemed intrigued. That wasn’t too surprising considering the two did have a shared interest in weapons. One of the last times they worked together, he and the twirp did spend some time quality bonding over whether a very nice set of axes would be inappropriate for a mission.

While they decided who took what, Tim and Duke pestered for information regarding what happened with Danny. Babs chimed in from her side and, surprisingly, so did Stephanie. She had a few hours to spare and decided she wanted to watch the circus.

After a quick check, they found that their audio from their trip into the Ghost Zone had been corrupted beyond repair, but the video, while hazy, was mostly intact. Lovely. He wanted that scar to stay a secret.

Dick graciously decided he would explain what couldn’t be heard, but he wanted to know what they had missed before he got into it. According to Bruce, Masters mostly tested the waters regarding business during lunch, but it was his interest in Jason which bristled Bruce. He played it off well, but the man seemed almost hungry for information on the most ‘secretive of the Waynes.’ Tim ended the summary by giving some highlights of Masters trying not to be driven insane by Damian and sharing a video file of the very satisfying way Bruce’s Specter Deflector shocked Vlad when they shook hands.

Duke and Cass were able to get out of Masters’ home just prior to the G.I.W. showing up on the premises. They hadn’t seen evidence of anyone else in the building at the time so the timing of it couldn’t be ruled out as a fluke or purposeful. But they didn’t find evidence of any other person coming or going in that house other than Vlad. It raised some interesting questions as to who maintained the property.

However, they were able to make it down into his lab. Jason examined the stills from his siblings’ gear. The lab held similarities to the Fentons’ regarding the set up and equipment. However, it was larger and almost immaculate. The files the two were able to pull were similar to what Babs already found, but it confirmed Vlad rarely strayed into the tinkering aspects of paranormal science. Instead, he meticulously researched whatever interested him, and that delved into dark corners that none of them expected.

There were records of cloning attempts and how drastically they failed. Those were images Jason never needed to see again. There were also thousands of documents regarding possible ways to subdue and control Danny. With how obsessive the man seemed, it was a surprise he seemed to be reluctant to act. Perhaps that was part of how the ectoplasm affected him which could act in their favor, if he decided to pull something.

Masters also had several files dedicated to known villains, heroes, and neutrals. Most of it tracked alliances, but also meticulously weighed the pros and cons of being involved with them. Notes were made regarding technology or wealth particularly of interest.

Then it was time for Dick to take the stage. He explained what happened with the Fentons and how they traveled to the Ghost Zone while the video feed played on Tim’s laptop. The others openly wondered at the strangeness of the place.

However, that wonder was replaced with horror as they got to the section with Frostbite and the tests. Why couldn’t that part of the video get corrupted? Now Tim and Duke were looking at him with the same pity Dick did. Damian tried to remain neutral, but his eyes had widened, and his jaw had slackened some. A muscle moved in Bruce’s jaw, but his overall expression was blank. While Babs and Stephanie were silent on their end, he could still sense their shock.

Cass, however, hugged him from behind. She didn’t say anything, but the gentle squeeze she gave him let him know she understood. While he still didn’t know what to make of the former assassin at times, she had more emotional intelligence then the rest of them. It made a difference at times like this.

After gently shooing her away, he berated the rest of them. “If you forgot, we have a job to do. Stop with the fucking pity party.”

With that said, Dick continued but soon turned the stage over to Jason so he could make the determination of what to say regarding Frostbite’s explanation. In true fashion, he gave only as much information as believed to be relevant to the situation. In this case, that consisted of letting them know he’d stop falling through things when he left Amity. To avoid others’ annoying looks, Jason kept his eyes on the new weaponry the entire time.

“You’re certain this situation won’t become permanent?” A hard edge crept into Bruce’s tone. The man had a funny way of showing concern.

“It was phrased as unlikely,” Jason set the blaster in his hand down and turned on the chair so he could look Bruce in the eyes. “Best I can tell, as long as I don’t get thrown into a malfunctioning Ghost Portal or back into the Pit, things will go back to normal.” Well, back to his normal minus some Pit madness.

Bruce didn’t need to know that. Having the old man still think his thoughts were clouded at times by the Pit could work in his favor. But there was the lingering issue of whether or not Dick would bring it up. Secrets like that could be used as leverage, and even Dick was known to use information best left alone to call in the occasional favor. Jason would check later. A bribe might be needed.

“Enough worrying about me.” He did his best to ignore the fact his hand vanished from sight as he waved it dismissively. Bruce narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything.

“It would be amazing if I could find a way to replicate this. I’m surprised I can still feel your hand,” Tim murmured as he took the chance to examine the situation close up. He smelled so strongly of coffee, for a moment, Jason wondered if he took a bath in the stuff.

Duke hummed as he also stepped closer. “I can still kind of see it.”

Pulling away from his brother, Jason experimentally opened and closed his still invisible hand before hesitantly checking to see whether it would pass through the table. No intangibility this time. An unpleasant image getting accidentally stuck in the wall or floor flashed across his mind, and he briefly wondered if that ever happened to Danny. “Yeah, definitely solid. Just feels a bit chilled.”

“Maybe a ghost needs to be both invisible and, what did you say Danny called it? Intangible? For me not to be able to detect it? Or maybe I can see it because you’re not a ghost.”

“No idea.” Jason glanced over his shoulder. “Dick, while I work on handling this, bring the others up to speed about what Danny said about Vlad.”

“Thought puns were my thing?” Dick’s grin made Jason want to throw one of the ecto-pistols at him.

“Are you admitting I was funnier on accident than you are when you try?”

Bruce stepped between them when Dick went to retort. “What’s this about Masters?”

After the summary, Bruce openly frowned as he rubbed his chin. For a man who mostly spoke in varying degrees of scowling, this was unusual. Or maybe he was just bothered that someone wanted to try to take away one of his soldiers again.

“The Justice League has spent a great deal of time debating Masters’ motivations and whether or not we should consider him as another Luthor. Other than business deals which primarily focused on building his personal wealth, we had no reports of him doing anything overtly criminal. If his main focus has been simply to build up a way to obtain and keep what he covets, then it explains why he hasn’t been too interested in approaching other parties.”

“We can probably figure he killed those assassins for the same reason.” Tim had lost interest with Jason, who finally managed to get his hand back into the visible spectrum, and turned his attention back to the Spector Deflectors. “If he doesn’t want anyone else to know about this town, the Fentons, or his status, then it would make sense he’d take out anyone he considered a threat to that. Bet he knows our primary focus was Ra’s men which is why we were only warned.”

“You’re calling a horde of ghost animals a warning?” Duke’s eyebrows shot up comically.

Damian tutted. “Have you not learned anything, Thomas? Such tactics are common of the rogues in Gotham.”

“Yeah, but those don’t normally involve rabid undead animals.”

“Would Scarecrow’s fear toxin count?” Dick asked as he crossed his arms and leaned against the nearest wall. It was enough of a valid question to start a debate that would look like an argument to any onlooker.

A long-suffering sigh escaped Bruce. “Enough. We need to begin preparations for tonight. While it seems unlikely we’ll encounter any immediate threat from the League, we should remain on guard. There is a chance for retaliation against Masters.”

“How likely do we think Ra’s knows that Masters is a ghost?” Dick tumbled across the room so he could steal one of the plush chairs. “If we could barely find any evidence of what he was, I doubt that he would.”

“Perhaps Grandfather knows of Plasmius but believes he is simply working with Masters,” Damian suggested.

“That could be,” Bruce agreed. “If that’s the case, if there is a retaliation, it might be a more public attack. They’d use the crowd to make it less likely Plasmius would interfere.”

“Even though that wouldn’t help them,” Jason added. “Remember, Danny mentioned Masters can make multiple copies of himself. If they do try anything, it’s just going to backfire on them. What the? Damnit!” As a brief moment of intangibility in his legs nearly caused him to fall off his chair, a nasty thought resurfaced.

Ignoring the laughter on the com from Stephanie, Jason continued to entertain that thought. “Is it possible… What if there have been others who tried to investigate here, and Masters just…” He stared at his hands. “Just pulled them into the ground and left them there.”

Stunned silence filled the room. “We don’t have many reports of people disappearing around Masters,” Bruce replied slowly as he grabbed his computer and began typing. “But there have been a few, and there haven’t been any physical evidence of it. I’d like to confirm it myself… but, that may have to wait.” He grabbed his Justice League communicator and stepped into the other room.

“Wanna bet he’s asking Supes for a favor?”

Jason rolled his eyes at Dick. “Seeing as he’s one of the few people we know with x-ray vision, that’s a pretty good guess.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing you guys talk about the big guy like that.” With how new he was, Duke still got starstruck around the other capes. In all honesty, Jason wasn’t sure how many of the others Duke met yet.

That reminded him; Superman once signed a piece of metal for him. Was that still at the cave? When he had time, he should go see if he could find it.

“Jason, you might be on to something,” Babs interrupted from her side. “Our contacts have given us a few reports of missing henchmen around Amity. I have enough info on some of them that I should be able to find them no matter where they are, but I can’t. They’re just gone.”

“Oh, it looks like one of them might have a tale for us. Can’t wait to hear this. Hopefully, it’ll be more entertaining than the usual blathering.” That was Stephanie’s way of excusing herself.

He rubbed his face as he and the others waited for Bruce and Stephanie’s results. This train of thought was something he didn’t want to have. Masters could possibly just stick someone in concrete or the ground, possibly while they were still alive, and just forget about them! What would that do to someone? Would it be an instant death? Or would they slowly suffocate?

God, he might be able to do the same to someone if this situation of his continued. That was the last thing someone afflicted Pit Madness should have access to.

When he next saw Danny, he was going to have to break down and ask the kid to keep an eye on him. While he didn’t have too many lines he wouldn’t cross, this was one of them.

Bruce stepped back into the room. “Clark was able to quickly travel to three of locations of interest. He confirmed the presence of bodies in the concrete of certain buildings. He’s currently notifying the authorities.” He glanced at Jason before continuing. “We’re going to air on the side of caution and assume ghosts can possess any living creature. We also do not know how far above the city ghosts can safely travel. Any confirmation in this location will have to be made by one of us.”

A Kryptonian being controlled by a normal villain was terrifying enough. They really didn’t need one controlled by a ghost.

“I shouldn’t be surprised Todd of all people considered such an uncouth manner of burial.”

Jason ignored the dig from the demon spawn. Yeah, he did kind of earn his reputation, but did they really think he’d pull something like that? Even if Vlad killed them first and then placed them in the ground, being forgotten was just as unsettling.

“Actually, how did you come up with that?” He was surprised Duke had the nerve to ask.

“Wondered if it was possible to get stuck in something if intangibility wore off.”

Surprise fluttered across the room. “I guess that would be something you have to worry about.” Pity crept back into Dick’s voice.

“So guys, I have a story for you!” Stephanie’s chipper voice returned to the coms.

=========================================

Notes:

Did you know an AK-47 is heavier than a longsword? Longswords tend to be 2-4lbs (1-2kg). AKs start around 6.5lbs. Adding wooden 'furniture' to the butt stock and heatshields can make it closer to 10lbs. Dunno if I should add this, but I will anyways. The great majority of civilian AKs in the US are semi-auto only which is due to legality/specific licensing. The only way to get somewhat close to a full-auto with the average civilian AK is to use a bumpstock - those are illegal, btw.

The metal on the barrel can get hot enough to cook bacon after a while... and getting hit by an ejected bullet casing that came in contact with that hot barrel can burn you. If you are using one and putting 100+ rounds through it, it should be allowed to cool down before being stored. Also trying to aim with iron sights when you have scarring on your dominate eye is a pain. (I will not confirm or deny whether or not I was doing in person research over the weekend)

Comic related - there is scene where you see Jason and Damian in the background examining an ax while Tim is explaining something to everyone else.

Bruce does canonically refer to the batfam as his soldiers at times, and the mentality behind that and how it affects a child/teen is something that bothers Jason post-resurrection.

I don't know where it's mentioned in the comics, but I do have a Superman encyclopedia that mentions that Supes gave Jason that autograph.

As a side note, I have a preference for unintentional puns which did happen in this instance. I caught it, made a face, and decided to roll with it.

#To Join the Whispers #Danny Phantom #dp #dp au #dp crossover #Danny Fenton #Vlad Masters #Vlad Plasmius #still self-indulgent #this chapter did hate me a bit though

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geekgirles · 3 years

Text

Your Heart

Chapter 4 -- Stalemate Word Count: 8284

READ ON AO3

Waking up to the sound of her parents’ latest invention going awry was something she was sure she was never going to get used to. Never mind that she’d have an entire life to get accustomed to it or her newfound respect for what her family did for a living.

As disciplined as Jasmine Fenton was, being awakened by an explosion was never going to be anything but annoying.

Sighing resignedly, Jazz yanked her covers aside and got up, ready to start a new day. After showering and getting dressed with a long-sleeved, white dress shirt, a black ribbon tied tightly around its collar; a matching black, a-line skirt over thin grey tights; a teal blazer over her shirt, and brown ankle boots (which went well with her brown leather shoulder bag); she first made her way down the stairs to her parents’ lab.

Absent-mindedly combing her pixie cut with her fingersーa decision she made after 18 years of rushed haircuts due to having been covered in some sort of unknown ectoplasmic goo after an invention explodedー, Jazz cut straight to the chase. “Let me guess, your latest invention just ‘malfunctioned’”, she air-quoted.

As she expected, Jack and Maddie were hunched over a metallic device that had definitely seen better days, if the smoke coming off of it was any indication...What she wasn’t expecting though, although she should have, was her dad’s answer. “Actually, that was just the Fenton Toaster. We were about to start the day with a healthy, ghost-kicking breakfast, when she failed on us.” Had she been sixteen again or literally any other person in the world, Jazz might’ve actually been taken aback by the fact that her dad was tearing up over a toaster. Then again, she was Jazz Fenton and this sort of thing from her dad was as common as him yelling obscenities about ghosts. “Oh, dear friend. We hardly knew ye!”

Rolling her eyes at his dad’s antics while her mum patted his shoulder in an effort to comfort him, Jazz muttered, “Dad, that toaster’s almost as old as Danny…” Who, by the way, was going to be ecstatic to learn the dreaded toast-drying machine from Hell had finally been vanquished.

Speaking of her little brother, “Where’s Danny, anyway?”

Again, to any other family in the USA but the Fentons, that question would have seemed stupid. Danny was a college student who lived at his university’s dorms with his best friend, so the chances of him being around his childhood home during the school year were pretty slim. And, again, they were the Fentons, and her little brother had been going back and forth from his dorm, to Fenton Works, to the Ghost Zone (not like their parents knew, or even needed to know, about that one…) since he first got into APU.

Maddie left her weeping husband’s side to pick a wrench up and start working on the toaster again ーpoor Danny; it seemed the evil, toast-drying machine from Hell was harder to get rid of than Vlad. “Sorry, sweetie. You missed him while you were doing your research. Your brother was here yesterday; he said he came Sunday night because he couldn’t find his dorms’ keys. But he’s back at college now.”

She suddenly stopped tinkering with the busted toaster’s inner workings, taking off her goggles from her face, a pensive expression plastered on her face. “Hm...I know Danny’s always been a little distracted, but he keeps losing his keys. At this rate he’s going to end up sleeping on the street just because he can’t get inside his own home!”

Recovering from his temporary loss of composure over the Fenton Toaster ー“I love you, guys, but it’s a miracle this family hasn’t been studied by professional psychiatrics already. Not like I didn’t give it my best shot…”, Jazz thought to herselfー, Jack was soon standing right beside his wife, towering over the pile of scrap metal with a matching pensive expression of his own.

That couldn’t be good.

“Now that you mention it, sweetcakes,” he said, “you’re right. Danny’s always losing stuff!”

“Right?” Maddie insisted. “Don’t you remember, back in his first year of high school, when his English teacher, Mr. Lancer, called you over because Danny’s pants kept falling several times just that week?”

“Uh...the memory’s a bit blurry, Hon, but I know what you mean.” In truth, Jack didn’t remember any of that. All he knew was that he suddenly found himself chaperoning a homecoming dance. If only there was a way to get your memories back like those keychains that you attached to your clothes… And then it hit him. “I know, Maddie! Why don’t we make one of those keychains that you attach to your clothes so you won’t lose them for Danny?”

His wife beamed at that. For all his scatterbrained-ness, Jack truly was a talented inventor with a creative mind. Just a fuzzy head. “Oh, that sounds marvelous, honey! I’m sure Danny will love that!” She exclaimed before quickly pecking him on the lips.

Unbeknownst to her parents, Jazz grimaced in worry at the idea. Back when she was sixteen, or any other day, really; she’d have been overjoyed at the idea of her ghost-hunting parents creating something that was absolutely non-ghost-related, but since said idea would make it more difficult for Danny to keep his secret from them...She was just glad she was in town to look over him. Trying to appear supportive rather than dismayed, Jazz chirped, “Yeah, great idea, Dad...What are you going to call it? The Fenton Keychain?”

“‘The Fenton Keychain?’” Jack parroted before scoffing. “Of course not, Jazzy-pants! I was thinking something more along the lines of, ‘The Fenton Fermoir’!” He announced, striking a dramatic pose.

The blue-eyed young woman started at that, taken aback. “Wait, ‘fermoir’? Isn’t that French?”

“Yes, it’s an adjective that means ‘that which closes.’”

Gaping at her dad, Jazz blinked. And blinked again. And blinked a third time for good luck. “...you know French?”

This time, it was her mother who answered her, laughing her question off. “Oh, yes. There’s more to us than just ghost-hunting, you know?” Then she and her husband laughed together at her own joke.

“Could’ve fooled me…” Jazz mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing! Um...oh, right. So Danny’s not here today, huh?” Her parents shook their heads. “That’s a shame, I wanted to ask him how things were going with...um...with, you know, school and all that. Oh, well! I’m sure he’ll tell me some other time.”

Jack and Maddie exchanged a glance. Ever since Danny started going to high school, their kids often acted weird. At first, they blamed it on adolescence, making them want to make an identity for themselves outside of their parents’ influence but not knowing exactly who they truly were, either. But the fact that their eldest child was 23, their youngest 21, and they still acted like that sometimes was a bit concerning.

The wrench in her hand long forgotten, Maddie made her way to her daughter’s side. She draped an arm around her shoulders, not noticing that said arm was the one holding the aforementioned wrench and that she was unconsciously pointing at Jazz’s face with it. “Honey, is there something about Danny we should know about?”

Jazz panicked.

Yes.

Yes, there were so many things about Danny they should know about.

They should know their kid had gone through a terrible accident that changed his life forever at the tender age of fourteen. They should know he got ghost powers he spent agonising months trying to get control over. They should know he only ever wanted to protect innocents from ghosts and yet, he was labeled as a menace by the very same people he was trying to look after. They should know he’d not only been carrying the burden of being Amity Park’s unofficial protector since he was fourteen, but also became the king of an entire dimension and could count the people he could rely on with his hands. They should know he went through his very first serious heartbreak because the girl he liked hated his ghost half more than she liked him. They should know their college best friend was a fruitloop who wanted to kill Dad, take Mum from him, and either kill or adopt Danny; because, really, it all depended on the side of the bed Vlad woke up on.

They should know their only son was risking his life even more now because he’d made a deal with the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park who, judging by what Danny had told her, was the embodiment of a death sentence.

And he’d been carrying all those burdens and responsibilities, facing constant danger, making decisions not even full-fledged adults would find easy to make, and had been aimed at with ecto-blasters by his own parents since he was fourteen. Being Danny Phantom had stolen some of the best years of his life away from Danny Fenton.

And they had no idea of any of that.

But how could they, when Danny refused to tell them the truth?

Every time Danny faced a bigger threat than dealing with ghosts of the same caliber as the Box Ghost, Jazz tried convincing him to come clean to their parents. Because, what if they never saw him again after that battle? What would she tell them, then?

But Danny would not budge. And, Jazz remembered, she couldn’t blame him. With the entire town, barring a dedicated fan club, and a good chunk of the Ghost Zone against him, how could he risk losing one of the very few places he could call home? Just like she told him when he asked her why she never said anything about his secret, it was his secret. Only he could talk about it with Mum and Dad.

“Jazz, honey? Is everything alright?”

Her mother’s voice broke her out of her stupor. She must’ve spaced out for a while, for her parents were looking at her worriedly. Flushing sheepishly, she cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry. And don’t worry about Danny either. He just…” What was that excuse he told her he’d use if anyone started asking questions again? Oh, right. “He’s just busy working on a paper to help me with my own thesis, that’s all.”

Okay. So not only was it a lie, but it wasn’t exactly what Danny told her to say, either. Her little brother decided to respond saying he was suddenly very interested in the occult because he was writing a paper on a seminar he’d signed himself up for, but since she went back to Amity Park to study the witches there, it was still a good excuse.

Said excuse seemed to calm her parents down, before they fully registered her words and they seemed worried again. But, she knew, this time they were worried for her.

“Uh, Princess? Are you sure you want to focus that thesis of yours on...witches?” Jack asked warily, looking up from the remainers of the Fenton Toaster.

The redhead rolled her eyes in annoyance; there they went again. “Your father’s right, sweetie. While not necessarily a bad topic...erm...it’s not exactly the easiest one to research.” Her mother tried to discourage her gently. “For starters, most of the records we have are nothing but speculations and hearsay… I mean, the Salem witch trials were mostly based on unfounded accusations!”

How two of the world leading experts in ectology, who defended the existence of ghosts long before their theories were proven correct, could be so convinced there was no such thing as witches was beyond her. Arbitrary scepticism, much?

Jazz had to admit, she understood her family’s surprise when she opted to focus her thesis for her Cryptology class on the legendary women. A psychology undergraduate, a woman convinced of the infallible nature of the scientific method since birth, and an aspiring psychologist since she was sixteen, it was understandable that her decision to minor in Cryptology would come as a surprise to...well, everyone.

But protecting your half-ghost little brother from the shadows for the last seven years had a way of making you question everything you once thought you knew.

After all, if such a thing as ghosts weren’t only real but had an entire dimension for themselves, then who was to say such a thing as magic-wielding women couldn’t exist?

The moment Danny told her and Tucker he planned on asking them for help at the beginning of Fall only cemented her decision. It was a real pity Danny refused to disclose the supposed location of the Amity Park clan for her safety.

“Mum, Dad, I’ve told you already. It’s precisely because of all those myths that I want to study them. For all we know, all those potions that are always mentioned in folklore could just be really advanced medicine. Are we really going to turn our backs on the scientific community like that?”

“And that’s a great idea sweetie! But…” Maddie tried reasoning with her, but nothing came to mind. Awkwardly, she turned to her husband and whispered harshly, “Help me out here, will you?”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. “What your mother’s trying to say, Jazz, is that, if there was evidence on the existence of witches, we’d already know. Don’t forget, your ancestor, John Fentonightingale, was a celebrated witch hunter during the time of the Salem trials. He was an admired and respected member of his village, but the only thing he ever did was send innocent people to be burned alive.

“When he eventually realised what he’d done, he spent the rest of his life lamenting his shortsightedness; rejecting the fame and glory his witch-hunting days had brought him. And even if he ultimately turned to ghost-huntingー”

“Goodbye, fame and respect.” Jazz mumbled.

“ーthe hole in his heart caused by his actions would never be filled again.” Jack finished his tale with a morose expression, hoping Jazz would understand what he was trying to say.

She didn’t. “Okay, that was a very moving story with a valuable lesson on the dangers of letting fear and paranoia overtake us. But what does it have to do with me?”

Still standing by her daughter’s side, Maddie tried comfortingly rubbing her arms with the hand that wasn’t holding the wrench. “We’re just trying to warn you not to jump to conclusions, because you might regret it.”

Okay, that was it. Her parents were in no position to warn her against jumping to conclusions; they lost that right the day she finally understood they’d been unknowingly talking about ripping their own son apart ‘molecule by molecule’ ーright in front of him. Jerking away from her mother’s touch, she put her hands on her hips as she sent them her most meaningful look.

“For the last time! I’m not going to try and, I don’t know, rally up the entire town against the witches! I just want to study them. You know, learn about their culture, about the origins of their abilities, about the differences between fact and fiction...” she shot them a pointed look as she stressed that last part. “I just want to understand them!”

“But you don’t even know if they exist!” Jack protested as she made it to the stairs.

Hearing her dad’s comment, she turned to face them once more. Oh, she knew they existed alright, that much Danny had been able to clue her in. What she didn’t know was where to find them. But she couldn’t tell them that. “Well, that certainly didn’t stop you from building a ghost portal to another dimension you weren’t even sure existed! And it sure as Heck won’t stop me!”

That last comment should be enough to get her parents off her back for at least a couple of days. But the conversation had put her in a bad mood, something that didn’t happen since she learned to appreciate her parents’ ghost-hunting abilities, or, when it was Danny who was being pursued by them, their lack thereof. Stomping out of the house and slamming the door closed behind her, Jazz angrily made her way to the usual starting point of her quest.

The Amity Park Public Library.

The large granite building was supposed to be completely white, but the decades since it was built had washed out the stones, making them look grey-ish instead. The several steps leading up to the entrance were flanked by two lead lion statues resting atop a block of stone each. The front of the building, on the other hand, was both decorated and supported by numerous columns, with two of them at either side of the wooden door.

Despite the impressive sight, what truly mattered lay behind its doors. Walking inside, Jazz let herself be washed over by the smell of ink and paper so characteristic of the library. Wherever she looked, hundreds of books stood proudly on their shelves, some of them so high up that the only way to reach them was with the help of stairs.

Scattered around the library were several tables and plastic chairs where the visitors could sit to read their latest acquisition or work on the projects that brought them to the library in the first place.

Breathing the scent in, Jazz walked over to the little counter located right at the entrance of the library, where the librarian would usually be working on her computer. Whenever she wasn’t out and about organising books, that is.

Jazz waved at her with a smile. After coming to the library to study for years, she was basically a regular by now. “Good morning, Wilhelmina!” Wincing at her unintentional high-pitched tone, she lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “How’s everything around here?”

Looking up from her computer, the pudgy woman smiled knowingly at Jazz before willing her chair to get closer to her. “Good morning, Jasmine. It’s been so long since I last saw you; when was it again, two days ago?” Wilhelmina joked as she leaned in closer to the redhead, intertwining her fingers as her elbows rested on her desk.

Jazz flushed slightly at the harmless jab. “What can I say? You won’t get rid of me so easily!”

“Don’t I know it…” There was something odd about the way the librarian said those words, but the redhead decided to let it go. It was probably nothing, either way.

“I wanted to ask you if you could recommend a book onー?”

“On witches?” The auburn-haired lady finished for her. Seeing the young woman’s embarrassed hint of red on her cheeks, she chuckled. “Oh, don’t be so surprised, my dear. You’ve been asking for the same thing for almost a month now! It’s just nice seeing someone retain some sort of interest for this old place and its books. Nowadays, most people just come here to surf the net for free.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about me for a while, then! So, the books?”

Leaning back on her chair, Wilhelmina pointed to a faraway aisle. “Try the History section. I’m sure there’ll be a journal or something to help you with your paper.”

Jazz flashed her a charming grin, “Thanks, Wilhelmina. You’re the best!” As she turned her back on the librarian, Jazz failed to notice the dark grin that made its way to her face.

Once Jazz was out of earshot, Wilhelmina said, “Oh, you have no idea,” the twisted expression never leaving her face.

As she walked around the library’s endless halls, Jazz couldn’t help but be grateful for having Wilhelmina as the librarian. Any other person would have looked at her like she was crazy or a Satanist murderer in the making for researching the occult so much, but never Wilhelmina. The woman just smiled at her and tried helping her to the best of her abilities. If Jazz had been looking for information entirely on her own, she’d have stuck to a particular section of the library, but Wilhelmina was always recommending a broader search. And, Jazz couldn’t help but think, it was a smart choice. One never knew what they could find or learn if they listened to different experiences other than their own.

Standing in front of the shelf where the history books were, the aqua-eyed woman began scanning for something that might help her clear up the fog surrounding the group of witches Danny might be facing from now on. If she could just find out where their hideout was supposed to be… Not only would she be able to study them, but she might even convince them to ally themselves with her brother for good!

Ever since she was a teenager and found out about her brother’s secret, Jazz was determined to focus her thesis on the effects such circumstances could have on him. But as time went by, she came to understand that would be impossible. Writing a thesis on Danny’s very unique circumstances would be akin to exposing him, and she couldn’t do that to him.

Because he trusted her.

Danny’s number of enemies increased tenfold by the day, while his allies followed a much more stagnant rhythm. Goodness, he couldn’t even get his girlfriend to give up ghost hunting for him! She and Tucker were the only two people in all of Amity Park he could rely on.

And there was no way she’d ever betray that trust.

Which, sure, was a very meaningful proof of the love and bond between them, but still left Jazz without a topic for her thesis. So when Danny revealed his discoveries on the existence of witches, of all things, she was ecstatic.

The possibility of a magical species living in Amity Park was perfect on many levels. On the one hand, it would expand their knowledge of the paranormal, with the added bonus of finding potential alternatives for everyday problems. And on the other, it gave her the perfect excuse to stay close to Danny and make sure he was safe. With her in town, he wouldn’t have to make up excuses as to why he slept in Fenton Works when he already had a perfectly nice place to stay at APU. All he had to do was phase through her room to get to his.

And, most importantly, that way he had somebody else he could talk to about his double life. He was going to need it if he’d indeed managed to establish a truce between the spellbinding women and ghosts. From what he’d told them, those sorceresses were vile.

As she walked over a nearby table carrying a pile of books with both hands, Jazz couldn’t help but wonder how her little brother would handle the situation.

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

Danny was not handling the situation well.

Although, it wasn’t necessarily his fault. Lady Arcana’s own unwillingness to cooperate was a key factor in their stalemate.

Even if they addressed each other formally and obvious jabs directed at their respective species were, thankfully, non-existent, the coldness between them that reigned during their first face-to-face interaction was now stronger than ever.

Just like the last time, he’d sent Skulker to escort the queen and her entourageーwhich still consisted of the same two witches; talk about confidence…ー through the Ghost Zone up until they arrived at his lair’s throne room. They still pretended they were both honoured to be in each other’s presence even though Danny was sure the Witch Queen wished she could just spit at him as much as he did.

And knowing Desiree, if she were near to grant her wish, a cascade of spit would rain down on him.

This time, however, Danny had ventured deeper inside his lair, with the witches close behind him. Figuring discussing over inter-dimensional safety in the middle of his throne room would be unwise, since one never knew who could be watching, he led his guests to the Council Room; where the Observants, Clockwork, and heーand occasionally Frostbite or any other ghost with a modicum of authorityーgathered to discuss political affairs regarding the Infinite Realms.

Admittedly, he wanted to slap himself for not thinking about it sooner.

Another thing that was different and he had failed to point out earlier was that, technically, the witches weren’t alone. No, there was nobody else besides the queen and her two...guards? ーcould he even call them guards?ー but they weren’t alone per se, either.

The bespectacled, strawberry blonde one had a pet owl perched on her shoulder. The bird, Danny had to admit, was beautiful. Its plumage was predominantly white and cream. The white feathers were more noticeable in its belly and heart-shaped face, with most of its body and the top of its head looking rather creamy. The owl’s black orbs seemed not only capable of seeing in the dark, but also deep inside your soul.

In other words, the girl’s pet was pretty, but creepy. And he had a feeling that would be a stable of these women.

The Asian teenager seemed to prefer reptiles, and, yes, he based his hypothesis entirely on the fact that the girl had a bearded dragon around her neck as if she was wearing a scarf. Danny couldn’t tell what was creepier; the lizard’s naturally spiky, scale-covered body and its little tongue licking its eyeball, or the way the witch scratched her pet’s chin and cooed at it when she thought nobody was paying attention to her.

“Well, it could be worse. She could buy herself a cat and name it after a married woman who will never love her back.” Danny had to physically restrain himself from shuddering at the thought.

But the weirdest thing, of course, had to be Lady Arcana’s own companion. Which, again, he was sure was going to be a stable between them. At first he didn't even see her carrying anything, her form obscured by her cloak, but the moment they entered the Council Room ーalone; Lady Arcana had stationed her witches to guard the doors, just as he did the same with two of Walker’s goonsーand she made herself comfortable (or as comfortable as she’d ever be in enemy territory), he spotted it.

Had she really brought a potted plant with her all the way from the portal to his lair? And, now that he took a closer look, was that a carnivorous plant?

Scratch whatever he said about the teenager and her lizard. The way the plant nuzzled her face or wrapped itself around her forearm as she gently stroked its stem was ten times creepier. Although, a part of him couldn’t help but think she and Undergrowth would get along swimmingly.

Two plant-loving psychos bonding with each other. Talk about a meet cute.

But never mind their questionable taste for pets. They’d been discussing for over an hour and they were still at the starting point. Time was money and this woman was going to make him go bankrupt if they kept going like this.

“Your Majesty, I understand the situation is quite...extraordinary, but I’m afraid we are still in need of a solution.” He tried for the umpteenth time that hour.

The woman before him just sniffed in displeasure. It was a good thing they were separated by a rather large, rectangular table, otherwise, he might have leaned forward and wrung her little neck out of sheer exasperation. “I am perfectly aware of the situation, King Phantom. But, as I have informed you already, there is not much I can do if I do not know the cause of the portals opening.”

But that was precisely why he needed her help! Getting frustrated, Danny let out through gritted teeth, “Which I believe is precisely the reason why I need you here in the first place, my Lady. You are supposed to be able to discover the reason behind it.”

“Well, supposedly, these portals are a natural occurrence of the Ghost Zone. How is it possible that you do not know how to take care of the problem on your own?” She countered, matter-of-factly, and Danny would have given about anything to get her to shut up and do something useful instead.

“Supposedly,” he echoed, “your people have the natural ability to surpass the laws that separate the Infinite Realms and Earth from each other, and hence, youーshouldーknowーhowーtoーcounterーit!” His voice raising in volume as he spoke, he made sure to punctuate that last part for emphasis.

Narrowing her violet eyes at him in disdainーhow could he have ever thought they were beautiful?!ー, Lady Arcana spat. “Supposedly, that bond was tattered after your kind’s betrayal.”

If it weren’t for the audacity of her statement, he would’ve recoiled at the gravity and resentment etched into her words. Narrowing his own eyes at her, he leaned forward. “Trust me, your Majesty, you would be wise to keep your mouth shut; you are in no position to talk about betrayals.”

As her scowl deepened, teeth borne at him in anger, a low growl could be heard emanating from her throat. But Danny was not going to be intimidated that easily. Returning the intensity of her gaze, the two kept eye contact, initiating a staring contest born from frustration and distrust.

Eventually, the Witch Queen averted her eyes, crossing her eyes in a huff as she leaned back on her chair. Her little plant reacted to her turmoil, for it hopped over to her ーwait, it hopped?!ーto get her attention. Noticing her weird-ass pet near her, the witch began to absent-mindedly caress its little, purple...head?

He was never eating a salad again in his life; he ought to let Tucker know he’d decided to join him in his carnivorous ways.

Leaning back against his own chair, Danny pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted. They’d been at it for more than an hour and, rather than discuss a possible solution, all they’d done was argue. Sighing through his nose, he called out to her, an idea forming in his mind, “Hey.”

Taken aback by his sudden drop of formality, Sam looked over at him with a guarded expression. What was he up to? Rather than answering, she raised an interested eyebrow as a sign to go on.

Danny took that raised eyebrow and her silence as permission to continue. “How about we drop the honorifics and formality for a while, huh? I don’t know about you, but I’m a rather laid-back person and having to address someone as if I was meeting the Queen of England tends to stress me out. And that by extension makes me much more prone to get defensive.”

Sam bit back her reply that she was, in fact, as much of a queen as the Queen of England, and that he should treat her as such.

“And let’s be real; getting defensive with each other is going to get us nowhere, don’t you agree? Besides, I’m already stressed out as it is due to a matter regarding a black hole forming, so I bet I’m not the most agreeable guy to be around right now.”

“No, you aren’t”, Sam was actually surprised Phantom shared her beliefs about formality and social distance. But that didn’t mean she was going to lower her guard around him. And his last words took her completely by surprise. “...did you just say ‘black hole’?”

“That’s not something you should concern yourself with.” He dismissed the question immediately.

Squinting her lavender eyes at him, her suspicions of any ulterior motives never quite going away, Sam gave in. “What are you getting at?”

At least she was listening to him. He was willing to count that as progress. Danny raised his palms up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, we don’t know for how long we’re gonna have to work together. So how about we’re at least casual with each other? Because, I don’t know about you, but all this higher register of speech is giving me a headache.”

As if to prove his point, Danny rose up in the air until he was comfortably floating about three feet high. As he leaned back, his arms crossed behind his head and one leg over the other, nothing would’ve wiped the smug look on his face as he looked down on the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park, her own jaw hanging low in awe.

Noticing the smugness radiating off of him in waves, the raven-haired girl forced her jaw shut. No way in Hell was she going to give him the satisfaction of amazing her. Even if she wasn’t going to say it aloud, Sam concurred with his point. Straightening her back, head held up high, she made sure to bruise his ego the same way he almost bruised hers. “Fine. Let’s drop the honorifics, I was tired of pretending I have any respect for you, anyway.”

Danny frowned at that. “Hey!”

“What? Do you seriously expect me to believe I’m not in immediate danger of being attacked by a ghost just for the mere fact of invading their turf? That you and your people actually respect mine?” Her voice was laced with cynicism as she scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

As much as Danny would’ve loved to contradict her, he knew he couldn’t. After all, he hadn’t just sent Skulker to escort them in fear they might get lost, the possibility of them being ambushed by vengeful ghosts was very real.

The raven-haired girl smiled triumphantly, knowing she had him right where she wanted him. “If it’s any consolation, if any of you so much as tried stepping foot, or ghostly tail, or whatever, into our territory, not a single one of us would hesitate to exorcise the Hell outta you.” Motioning to the door with her head, she added. “Susan in particular would have a blast.”

“Susan?”

“The teenager with the bearded dragon; Count Scalynton”

“‘Count Scalynton’?” Danny echoed in disbelief, before having to stifle a laugh with his gloved hand. Seeing the Witch Queen’s unamused stare, however, he sobered up. “And...uh...what about...the owl?”

“That’s Spooky.” Lady Arcana replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

“And your little friend?” He asked hesitantly, pointing at the potted plant comfortably perched on its owner’s lap, but making sure his finger didn’t get too close; in fear of getting it bitten off.

“Oh, this little guy?” Sam looked down at DeMilo with a fond smile. “His name’s DeMilo.”

“...are you serious?”

“You got a problem with that?”

“No! No, no. Of course not! DeMilo is...uh, a great name.” He quickly assured her, sheepishly. The last thing he needed was to invoke her wrath, again. Clearing his throat, Danny decided it’d be best to change topics. “So...No honorifics?”

“No honorifics.” Lady Arcana nodded from her chair.

“Right. So, instead of ‘your Majesty’, ‘my Lord’, or ‘King Phantom’, you can just call me ‘Phantom’ and Iー”

“You can just call me ‘Lady Arcana.’” The Witch Queen cut him off with a tone that left no room for discussion.

The white-haired young man slouched slightly at that. Just when he thought they were making progress, she closed herself off completely all over again. But he couldn’t afford displeasing her further, so he’d have to play by her rules...For now. “Right. Got it. So...about those portals?”

As he asked that, Phantom leaned forward to her, changing his position mid-air so his torso was facing now upside down but his head remained straight. As the Ghost King lowered his body so his forearms were atop the wooden table, an intrigued gaze directed at her, Sam deposited DeMilo on the table, her own hands resting on it. Locking eyes, they had each other’s undivided attention.

Understanding they were back to business, Sam sighed tiredly. “I wasn’t lying when I said I need to know the cause behind the portals’ strange behaviour. If this is something that can be solved through magic, then it is imperative that we know what’s causing it to figure out the best course of action to take. The wrong spell could lead to disastrous consequences.”

“Like?” Phantom raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Like sending the world to another dimension instead of closing a portal between dimensions.”

“I guess that makes sense. So how do we figure out the cause?”

“I can start by looking through this.” Sam offered as she, seemingly, got a book out of nowhere, Phantom’s eyes widening at the sight. The reddish-brown leathered book was the same one she used to open the portals to the Ghost Zone, which made it their safest bet for finding a solution. After all, if the book guarded almost forgotten knowledge on how to open inter-dimensional drifts, then it should have the answers to more mysteries, right?

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

Outside the Council Room, on each side of the door, Stephanie and Susan were patiently waiting for their queen. Well, “patiently waiting” might have been an exaggeration. Stephanie was stiff as a board, while Susan looked like a furious guard dog, the murder in her eyes only cemented the picture.

Both witches’ emotional state could only be attributed to one thing.

Ghosts.

Or, to be more precise, the two police-dressed, green spirits they were forced to stand guard alongside because the Ghost King wasn’t about to be caught dead (pun not-intended) with three witches and no back-up.

As much as she hated it, Susan had to give the spook credit: he wasn’t nearly as stupid as she thought.

The teenager kept stroking the length of Count Scalynton’s body, currently sprawled alongside her arm, as she pondered different ways to escape the Ghost King’s lair and his ectoplasmic, door-floating, bloodcurdling realm in case things went awry.

Beside her, Stephanie was lovingly scratching Spooky’s beak in an attempt to calm herself down. Looking over at the ghost-guard assigned to her, she squeaked and promptly looked away when the spectre, having felt her gaze on him, landed his blood-red, pupiless eyes on her. Gulping loudly, she whispered to Susan. “Do you think her Majesty will be frequently meeting Phantom from now on?”

Susan whispered back with a sneer. “I hope not! Miss Wilhelmina was right when she warned me against these putrid, soulless drones. We can’t lower our guards, especially not now that the queen needs us.”

Discreetly pointing with her head, the Asian girl guided her partner’s gaze to her hips. Lifting her red hoodie almost unnoticeably, the strawberry blonde’s eyes widened at the sight; two crossed, leather bandoliers were filled to the brims with an assemblage of jars containing colourful liquids. Stephanie’s jaw almost fell open in shock; the 17-year-old girl was armed to the teeth with potions!

Realising they weren’t alone and the dangers in their secret stash being found out, Stephanie tried to appear nonchalant. Pretending to be talking in general, she added. “I just hope her Majesty is safe.”

Susan gave her a wry smile. “Oh, trust me. Her Majesty will be fine even without our help.”

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

As she skimmed the pages of the spellbook in search of more information on the portals, Sam kept looking over at Phantom, praying he hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

As satisfying as it’d been seeing his bewildered face when she suddenly pulled the book off seemingly out of nowhere, the truth was she’d been carrying it with her under her skirt. But what she worried about was not him finding out about the book, but the other items her dress hid from plain sight.

Strapped around her thigh was a black holster filled with potions. Unlike the arsenal Sam knew Susan had brought with her, which consisted of several offensive and highly corrosive concoctions, the queen’s own collection consisted mostly of Blinding Bombs. As the name indicated, it was a type of potion whose main purpose was to distract the opponent long enough to retreat or come up with a plan. If things went south, all Sam had to do was smash the jar against the ground and cover her eyes, for a small explosion of light would ensue and temporarily blind the spirits, giving her and her girls enough time to escape.

As she leafed through the spellbook’s pages, she suddenly shivered, noticing a cold presence by her side sending shivers down her spine. What was even odder was the sudden smell of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Dumbfounded, she turned her face to the side and growled at the sight. Snapping the book closed and bringing it close to her chest, she snarled at Phantom. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Taken aback by her sudden movements, Danny blinked. “Um, trying to help you?”

He had to be kidding her. “Come again?”

“I...uh...I just thought I could help you look for answers.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “So I was trying to see if I could find anything useful in that book of yours.”

Oh, he definitely had to be kidding her. “No, thank you.” She turned him down, only thanking him out of politeness. She turned back to the book. “You’ll only drag us down, anyway.”

Danny was starting to get really frustrated with that all-knowing, condescending attitude of hers. Even his sister wasn’t as annoying despite her know-it-all tendencies. Hell, Skulker was easier to work with! Standing up in mid-air, using his leverage to stare her downーliterallyーhe folded his arms in front of his chest. “And how, pray tell, am I going to drag us down?”

He was surprised by the witch’s next action. Huffing loudly, she got up from her chair and shoved the book in his face quicker than he could blink. At first he had trouble registering what just happened (mostly because he was levitating a good three feet above her and she was still safely on the ground) until he took notice of the sparkly, purple mist surrounding theーfloatingーspellbook. He blinked in awe; so that’s how her magic looked like. Once the initial surprise had worn off, however, Danny had to admit, he was a little disappointed; he’d expected more than a floating book.

Looking over the tome, he saw Lady Arcana staring intently at him. Instead of anger as he expected, however, an amused, knowing expression adorned her features. He might’ve thought she looked pretty hadn’t it been for the wickedness of her smile.

“Read.” She instructed him.

Danny did as he was told...only to furrow his brow in confusion. What the…? Reading over the pages he couldn’t make sense of anything written on them. The inked markings splattered all over couldn’t even be considered hieroglyphics! Squinting at the offending piece of paper, he tried reading aloud. “Spiral...lightning bolt...spork?...What kind of sick mind came up with this?!”

Sam let out a hollow laugh. “You really think that if you were really able to read this book in the first place all by yourself, you’d even need to call for me?” She rolled her eyes at him, not knowing what to think; either this guy was messing with her head or he was an idiot. She motioned with her hand for the book to return to her “Limit yourself to keeping your subjects in line and let me handle this. Although, on second thought, I might actually be asking way too much of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The green-eyed ghost didn’t like where this was going.

Still reading, Lady Arcana raised her palms up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, for a ghost that’s supposed to be the undisputable ruler of an entire race after having defeated a tyrant, you sure have a lot of detractors defying your authority.”

“Oh, please! Like you know anything about my subjects or any possible detractors.” Was it true he was often fending off ghosts who didn’t care for his laws to stay clear of Amity Park? Saying he didn’t occasionally get his ass handed to him would be like saying his parents took kindly to people who disrespect their jumpsuits, but he didn’t have to tell her that.

“I know more than enough.” Sam countered.

“Oh, yeah? Name one ghost who doesn’t respect my rule and still causes trouble.” The halfa challenged. What was he trying to get out of this? At least ¾ of his enemies screamed their names and evil plots whenever they were freed from the Ghost Zone! In Ember’s case, she literally depended on people knowing and chanting her name.

“That poacher ghost of yours...what’s his name?”

A poacher ghost? Who the fuck was she talking aboー? “You mean Skulker?”

Sam perked up at that. “Yes, that one! He so obviously doesn’t respect your authority. I mean, he literally hunts you, the Ghost King, for sport almost every two weeks!”

An undignified sound escaped the halfa’s throat, but that was the last of his concerns at the moment. “Okay, first of all,” he started, raising one gloved finger, “he so totally respects my authority. Whenever I need help, he’s always willing to put the whole hunting-the-most-unique-specimen-ever aside for the greater good. And second,” he sent her a pointed look, floating closer to her. He revelled in the way she uncomfortably shrunk away from him; served her right, “Skulker’s not a poacher, he’s a hunter!”

“Does he have a permit or a hunting license?” Lady Arcana asked, not missing a beat.

That actually gave him pause. “Well...no, butー!”

“If a hunter hunts with no permit, then he’s a poacher!” Seriously, how dense could this dude be?

“You seem to be forgetting that Skulker is a resident of the Ghost Zone; my domain. Whatever laws are followed on Earth or among your kind, do not necessarily apply to us.”

“That outta shut her up,” he thought triumphantly.

“So you’re saying you’re okay with innocent creatures dying solely for the purpose of flattering one ghost’s ego?”

Well, apparently not. Danny spluttered at that. Who was this woman anyway, Jane Goodall?! “Whaー? No, of course not!” He vehemently denied before changing topics. This woman was about to get a taste of her own medicine. “But what’s with all these pointing fingers anyway?! I bet some of your ‘loyal’ witches also commit their own atrocities right under your nose.”

Oh, she was going to blast him into next Thursday for that! Standing up from her chair, Sam slammed her hands against the table (careful not to hurt or startle DeMilo, though). “For your information,” she snarled at the ghost before her, “the only huntress in my clan is Diana. And not only is she formidable, sheーalsoーhasーaーpermit!”

Fed up with the ridiculous conversation and the even more ridiculous woman, Danny slammed his own hands down on the table, even if he was floating. “Again with the permit! What’s with you and permits?! What are you, a cop?!”

“I’m a queen!” Sam all but roared. “So, yes, it is my job to ensure certain jobs are only trusted to people with permits!”

Danny was about to continue ranting, but he stopped himself. All this pointless fighting was only making them waste time, and they couldn’t afford that. He didn’t understand how she wasn’t already exhausted from all the arguing. Rubbing his face with his hands, he let himself fall back on his chair. “Let’s...let’s just keep on investigating. Forget I said anything.”

Sam was about to retort when she took notice of the white-haired ghost’s tired eyes, her own fatigue finally kicking in. Slumping her shoulders as she, too, fell back on her chair once again, she continued reading. “Yeah, sure. That’ll be for the best.”

They stayed in silence for a while after that. Lady Arcana reading intently, and Danny praying to all things above him that he’d be able to survive the day. Eventually, the Witch Queen broke the silence, slamming her book shut. His head snapping up at the sound, Danny dared to hope. “Any luck?”

The queen sighed. “I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?”

His heart sank. “The bad news,” he moaned pitifully.

“Bad news is, there’s nothing in this book about what could possibly be causing the Ghost Zone to create more portals than usual. The most it has is the spell I use to get here, but that’s about it.”

Danny was convinced his heart was now lost somewhere along his knees. “And the good news?”

“This isn’t the only book that might have information on the Ghost Zone. When our people parted ways for good after you-know-what,” the look of resentment was back on her face and Danny didn’t know what to do; he should be the one feeling offended! “most of our knowledge was forgotten, but not lost.”

“Meaning?” He prompted her to finish her statement.

“Meaning, there’s still probably many more books on the topic.” She finished.

“Which means…” Danny began, only for the two of them to groan in dismay. As nice as it was that not everything was lost just because that particular book didn’t have the answers, having to look for another spellbook or grimoire meant they would have to keep meeting with each other. For Lady Arcana would never leave a precious heirloom belonging to her people out of her sight and in the Ghost Zone, and Danny couldn’t afford to take his eyes off of her in case she and her kind double-crossed them.

In other words, they were stuck with each other until further notice...He was starting to regret not being fully killed by the accident the day he got his powers.

#danny phantom #dp #dp fic #my fic #your heart #danny fenton #sam manson #jazz fenton #jack fenton #maddie fenton #oc #Amethyst Ocean #ghost king au #witch queen au #ghost king! danny #witch queen! sam #enemies to friends to lovers

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playedcrowd5610 · 3 years

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Obsessions DP universe

(This was an essay idea I had started writing for a school project. I didn't end up using it but I loved it so much that I thought I would post it. This is an essay I had written about how I believe ghost obsession's work in the Danny Phantom series. All from my headcannons and observations from the show.)

What do you think of when you think of ghosts? Do you think of haunted mansions? Maybe possession? Maybe even a person with a white sheet on their head? Well I’m going to talk about Ghosts today. But not just any ghosts, I am going to be talking about a certain kind of ghost. These, ghosts were thought up of by Butch Heartman, for the fictional Danny Phantom universe.

I have done a lot of research into this, (way too much for a kids show... but whatever) And have come up with multiple theories based on how the ghosts reacted in certain situations and other things that happened during the show. Before I go on I should describe the certain kind of ghost I am talking about here. Lots of people call them Ecto entities. They are beings formed up of people's souls after they die. If they had a strong obsession in life, or a very good reason to keep on living. These people will often become these beings for their afterlife.

Their personality or soul after they die forms into a core that is an energy source for a ghost. Ectoplasm forms around the core to create a ghost. The core of a ghost works as the heart, brain, lungs, and nearly every other needed origin except for the stomach (as they do not need to eat). Ghosts need this because the ectoplasm that makes up their bodies is just that, ectoplasm. It creates a shell, a body for the ghost to ‘live’ in, if you would. Depending on how powerful the ghost is they can change the appearance of their ectoplasm to give them different looking bodies.

There are only two types of ghosts you can get. Fire core ghosts and Ice core ghosts. One core is not more powerful than the other, all of the ghosts range on a 1-10 level on the ecto scale. Fire core ghosts are extremely common, nearly every ghost you will see in the show is a fire core ghost. Whereas there are extremely few Ice core ghosts. The most well known in the series are Kelmper, who was known for his Lonely obsession. And Danny Phantom, the main character of the story. All of the residents of the Far frozen also had ice cores, and they were the only other ghosts known to possess them.

But the thing I want to talk about is obsessions. Obsession is a thing that ghosts can't control. The thing that drove them in life. Or the last thing they thought about when they died. The most noticeable ones have been. Box Ghost (Who was obsessed with boxes) Skulker (Who was obsessed with hunting) and Ember (Who was obsessed with music and attention from others)

All ghosts have an obsession, most are just really hard to tell. Like Walker (was obsessed with order, and the need to be in control) Bertrand (Who wanted to be accepted) And one of the hardest ones to figure out during the series was Danny Phantom himself (He is Obsessed with Protection.)

Danny Phantom is the only ghost you see in the series who actually dies. The reason he got his obsession is when he died it was in an explosion in his parents lab. His friends were also in the same room as the explosion and as Danny was dieing all he could think about was protecting them, making sure they were okay. So now. With Danny as a ghost. The first thing he thinks about in every situation is how he can protect every person there even at the cost of himself. That is the main reason he became a hero. Whereas a ghost with a Power obsession would find it much harder as their core itself is trying to force them to go in the direction of power.

Every ghost will think about their obsession first, it is like it is hard wired into their core. All ghosts have a moral compass. And can choose between right and wrong. But if something is in the way of their obsession they will mostly stop at nothing to get it.

That is why in season 1 in the time travel episode, Danny tries to give up his human emotions after his family and friends die. He blames himself for their deaths, and because his obsession is protection it hits him 100 times as hard as it would without it. Danny would probably break every bone in his body before he would see someone get hurt (and he has).

Something interesting with this is the fact that there are Halfa’s in this universe. A halfa is a half human half ghost. Someone who was half dead. Both of the deaths that resulted in halfa’s were created by an interdimensional portal created by the Fenton family. There are three Halfa’s in this universe. Danny Phantom aka Danny Fenton. Vlad Plasmius aka Vlad Masters. And Dani Phantom aka Dani Fenton. I don't often count Dani, because she was a female clone created to match Danny Phantom made by Vlad, therefore she did not die in the first place and started her afterlife as a halfa.

When it comes to halfa’s they can hold back on their obsessions more than a normal ghost can. Seeing as they also have blood and ectoplasm in their veins. So when they have their obsessions it is rooted more towards a smaller group of people that makes it stronger. With Vlad Plasmius he has a Power obsession. That is often directed to Danny and Maddie Fenton. He used his ghostly abilities to steal and gain wealth, get power in the world. He will get extremely mad if someone goes against him and will most likely lash out. He will constantly be trying non stop to gain the power his core craves. He ends up letting powerful and evil beings loose on the world (on multiple occasions) that always end up going against him. And he is constantly doing the moves for power instead of smarts. He's a really smart man, but if he is choosing between instant power or continuing with a plan he will jump at the power because of his obsession.

Obsessions can also boost your power. Mostly physically noticeable is the box ghost. He can use telekinesis on any object, but he is 10 times as powerful if he uses it on boxes. Same thing with Lunch Lady and their future daughter Box Lunch.

Danny has the same thing. In the battle of Pariah, Danny would have lost that fight, but he didn't. If he was fighting for himself that would be a different story but he was fighting for the world and his friends and family. Forcing him to push himself, effectively beating one of the most powerful beings in all of the universe.

This was my easy on Danny Phantom and ghost obsessions. I think this is mostly head cannons on my part. But this is what I think of when it comes to most ghosts in the show.

#Danny Phantom #obsessions #ghosts #dp #danny phantom universe #danny fenton #vlad masters #headcanon #phandom

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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 3 years

Text

Pairings: Past Aizawa/Mandalay

Word Count: 1,9218 Words

Summary: The Sports Festival, part 1.

Warnings: Food Mention, Death Mention, Caps, Cursing, Teen Pregnancy, Fighting Mention, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Usernames: Existence Is A Prison Aizawa: feral cat dad, Aoyama: gay salt, Hagakure: ranch flavored jello, Tokoyami: foil-mecha, Shinsou: farmer toshi, Kuroiro: life is a nightmare, Shiozaki: saviour, Tsunotori: schrodinger better run, Honenuki: pure, Monoma: nat20, Yamada: President Megaphone, Bakugou: deku-deck-you

Aizawa, We Agreed No More Cats: Chapter 8

7:00 AM

Existence Is A Prison

gay salt: Tokoyami, I know it's the sports festival and all today, but you didn't need to bring everyone sandos and sports drinks again.

foil-mecha: Thing is, I didn't.

farmer toshi: No, no, because my whole class has sandos and sports drinks on their desks too. And I heard the other Gen Ed classes causing a ruckus over them too. Seems like someone put sando throughout the whole school.

feral cat dad: That would be me. I'm not letting any of you kids go without eating during a major sports event where you'll likely get injured and your bodies need fuel to fight and I won't let you not eat.

feral cat dad: My old Gen Ed teacher, Miss Rin, began this tradition of giving out sandos and water at the gate to students on the day of the Sports Festival. Nezu sanctioned of course, since he refused to allow her to pay for it herself. And now it's carried on through me since she passed on a few years ago.

ranch flavored jello: That's actually really sweet, Dad.

feral cat dad: If you tell anyone it was me who put them out, I'll make you clean the roof level.

ranch flavored jello: We have a roof level?

feral cat dad: You guys didn't know the dorms have roof access?

ranch flavored jello: Well, now we do. Where even are the stairs to it?

feral cat dad: Literally next to my room, I don't know how you haven't found them.

deku deck-you: It's the door next to his room, Toru. Even I found it. You've been here five more days than me.

ranch flavored jello: I THOUGHT THAT WAS A BROOM CLOSET!

feral cat dad: Oh my gods, these kids will be the end of me.

8:30 AM

Existence Is A Prison

feral cat dad: God help me being alone with this idiot.

feral cat dad: I'm using this chat for extra commentary because there are things I can't say on live national television commentary so they'll all be said here.

feral cat dad: Oh god, Katsuki, no. Don't slander our name.

feral cat dad: Please.

feral cat dad: GOD DAMMIT

feral cat dad: Obstacle Course? Fuck.

feral cat dad: Most proud of my son managing to evade Todoroki's ice despite never dealing with it before.

feral cat dad: Also, Todoroki, who hurt you as a child? That was purposeful so nobody could catch up!

feral cat dad: Get it, Pikachu.

feral cat dad: I'm proud of my gremlin children.

feral cat dad: I'm not paid enough to make commentary on this obstacle.

feral cat dad: Except for my son. I care about my ground-bound son getting across the pit to Tartarus shit.

feral cat dad: Gods, mines. I remember those landmines. I hate those things. They almost made me temporarily blind during my second year Sports Festival.

feral cat dad: What the FUCK Midoriya!?

8:45 AM

Existence Is A Prison

feral cat dad: Alright you're probably in the break room for the twenty five minute break by now. Katsuki, what's wrong with your arms? You were holding them.

deku deck-you: Just a lot of work. Overworking. I guess it can't be helped, this is why I have so much wrist support in my hero costume, to help keep my hands from feeling cramped from the explosions.

feral cat dad: Come up to the box, I'll shut old parakeet up if he tries to speak.

deku deck-you: Why?

feral cat dad: I have some ibuprofen, come take two, it should help the pain at least.

deku deck-you: Thank you.

9:00 AM

Existence Is A Prison

feral cat dad: Am I allowed to ask why Vlad King is taking care of a small child when he, in fact, doesn't have children?

feral cat dad: Just realized I won't get an answer because you all made it to the next round. I'm so proud but dammit, now I'm curious.

9:20 AM

Existence Is A Prison

feral cat dad: I...What?

feral cad dad; I hate the cavalry battle, that was difficult to keep track of. I don't know how Hizashi does it.

schrodinger better run: Obviously, the answer is very carefully.

feral cat dad: I'm sorry you didn't make it through, Pony. I have candy if you want some.

schrodinger better run: Thank you! I'll stop by and grab it on my way to lunch.

feral cat dad: If you're going to meet back up with your class, text me why there's a child.

schrodinger better run: There's a child?

feral cat dad: smallchildinvladkingsarms.jpg

schrodinger better run: He looks a lot like Tokage.

9:30 AM

Existence Is A Prison

ranch flavored jello: Mr. Aizawa, this is Mina, Toru's busy crying so she asked me to ask you. Mineta and Kaminari are telling us 1a girls that you instructed we wear the cheerleader uniforms for the afternoon. What should we tell them?

feral cat dad: Tell them they have three weeks of detention each to look forward to and don't wear those fucking uniforms.

schrodinger better run: Okay, so apparently the kid's here because Tokage brought him in? I still don't have a full explanation, but his name is Mitsu and he's 2 years old.

feral cat dad: Okay. So Tokage brought her little brother or something?

nat20: I'm not so sure about that. He just called her Mama.

feral cat dad: So Tokage has a son?

nat20: It seems like it.

feral cat dad: Oh, Nezu won't be happy about this. He wanted any young parents to report to him after the opening ceremony and alert him if they had any children so they would stay in the dorms.

nat20: To be fair, it would seem Tokage would be the only one out of all the first year classes, so it might have been too much pressure to fit in. Or she may even just has help enough at home that she didn't feel she needed to tell anyone.

feral cat dad: He'll still be mad. Believe me, he'll at least force her to accept a UA fund card so she doesn't need to work to support the baby.

saviour: We got to talking and, apparently, she gives him to a daycare while she's at school and she picks him up when she leaves school.

feral cat dad: Yup, she'll probably be moved on campus if she's not having her family take care of the baby during the day. Nezu's very adamant that his students have help if they're struggling.

10:45 AM

Existence Is A Prison

feral cat dad: Alright, so Shinsou against Rikamaru Kana from the Support Course. I don't know if this will be easy for him.

nat20: I am offended Kendo thinks so little of me.

feral cat dad: Why?

nat20: She said I'm perverse! And, when I asked her about it after, she said it's because I wear the girls' uniform sometimes. She thinks I'm some pervert trying to invade the girl's bathroom to creep on them.

nat20: I swear I haven't, Mr. Aizawa, I've never even gone into the girls restrooms, I use the men's or the one in Recovery Girl's office. And I change in the men's locker room. Tetsutetsu will tell you, he's guarded me before when I was uncomfortable changing.

feral cat dad: Don't worry, kid, I believe you. Come up to the box, you need a hug. I'll talk to Kendo if you want.

nat20: Please.

10:50 AM

Existence Is A Prison

feral cat dad: Oh my god, he actually did it. I'm so proud, Shinsou.

schrodinger better run: Shinsou fucking yeeted her.

life is a nightmare: Equal opportunity yeeting.

feral cat dad: Next up is Hatsume vs Tokoyami.

nat20: I hope Tokoyami does well next.

11:00 AM

Existence Is A Prison

feral cat dad: Tokoyami, I'm proud of you for being a good sport and helping her up after.

foil-mecha: I'm nothing if not a gentleman. Plus, when she fell down, she sprained her ankle. It's the least I can do to help her to Recovery Girl.

farmer toshi: I'm betting a grocery shop tonight that Ashido's going to win against Midoriya next.

feral cat dad: Be careful kid, you might eat those words.

11:10 AM

Existence Is A Prison

farmer toshi: Fine, I guess I'm getting dinner. And I'm also very happy Toru won against Iida.

feral cat dad: That's if you don't get injured. Remember, there's now two people you know against you.

ranch flavored jello: I still can't believe I won against Iida, honestly.

feral cat dad: Well, Shiozaki is against Shizuka Inei next. A Gen Ed Course student.

nat20: Do you know him, Hitoshi?

farmer toshi: Kind of hard to miss someone when they're that fucking loud all the time.

foil-mecha: Is that son of a bitch harassing Ibara?

nat20: I have lost faith in humanity. How dare a peasant's filthy hands touch our Ibara.

farmer toshi: Yeah, I'd defend my classmate in it being an accident if I didn't know that Shizuka is a blatant misogynists.

feral cat dad: I'll fight him. Disgusting little trash.

life is a nightmare: And HE gets to advance while our Ibara loses? Unacceptable.

feral cat dad: The Min*ta of class 1c.

11:25 AM

Existence Is A Prison

nat20: Thank goodness Kiyomi's advancing. I do feel bad she'll be fighting a misogynist though.

pure: I felt kind of bad about it, I didn't really want to fight our Akari!

nat20: I'm sure Akari understands and also didn't want to fight you either, but you two can't just refuse to fight because you're friends or you'd both be either disqualified or forced to fight by now.

gay salt: No ill will is held on my end, Kiyomi! I think our fight was rather fun!

pure: Okay, as long as you promise you're not mad.

gay salt: I'm not, I'm proud of you, mon amor.

nat20: Any bets on Kaminari here?

farmer toshi: I'll bet on Pikachu winning.

schrodinger better run: I'll bet a grocery trip that Fujioka wins.

life is a nightmare: That would be the furthest a Business Course student would have gotten in the Sports Festival.

schrodinger better run: I'll still bet on him.

feral cat dad: Well, you were wrong, Pony.

schrodinger better run: All as well. I didn't expect Fujioka to have an equip quirk, to be fair.

feral cat dad: Next is Tokage vs Fukumura from General Studies.

saviour: Let's go Tokage!

11:30 AM

Existence Is A Prison

deku deck-you: Is Tokage okay? I heard she passed out.

feral cat dad: She's overworked and malnourished from what Recovery Girl will tell me when I ask and Nezu is speaking with Tokage and asking her what got her to this.

feral cat dad: I

feral cat dad: I don't think I'm at liberty to discuss her tragic backstory with you guys, sadly. But she'll tell you when she moves into the dorms tonight.

11:35 AM

Existence Is A Prison

farmer toshi: Todoroki, aka Mr. Overboard. Poor Sero.

farmer toshi: Oh god, I might need to fight Mr. Daddy Issues.

farmer toshi: Gods help me.

foil-mecha: To be fair, he'd have to get through three brackets to get to you and he'd be fighting you in the three-way fight.

ranch flavored jello: He'd have to get past Katsuki too.

deku deck-you: He won't.

feral cat dad: Alright then, Mr. Overconfident.

Taglist: @everythingisstardust

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #aoyama yuuga #fumikage tokoyami #shinsou hitoshi #aizawa shouta #hagakure tooru #katsuki bakugou #pony tsunotori #monoma neito #ibara shiozaki #kuroiro shihai #juzo honenuki #snoweywrites #aizawa we agreed no more cats au

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vampiresuns · 3 years

Text

Look After Your Dead

✴︎ LOOK AFTER YOUR DEAD ✴︎

In which Anatole is very bad at staying dead, and Amparo and Valerian Cassano look for him. 1.9k words. Art is ‘Fruit of Life’ by Megan Rieker. For Anatole’s Apprentice timeline, pre-game, compliant with all routes. Content warning(s): Death.

You can read the rest of Anatole’s apprentice timeline series here.

First came the silence. Both of them had promised themselves in their own way they would not check on Anatole while he was dead; or perhaps they would only to know if he was safe where the dead are supposed to be. He wasn’t, not for long. He had the energy of a wandering dead; a soul, or cumulus of former living energy, which was traversing through the realms still, albeit not because he didn’t know he was dead. On the contrary, like always, their Anatole felt like he was looking for answers — like he was waiting for something to begin, or something to click.

Second came the turning. Anatole was a restless yet restful dead. He didn’t come back to deliver any messages, he didn’t come to sit in anyone’s dreams. Both of them could tell it wasn’t because he didn’t want to do it, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to turn and tell them something they could only imagine. Anatole was still searching for something, and they both knew him enough (one saw him grow, the other grew up with him) to know Anatole would keep going, even if he turned his head to look back, until he found what he was looking for. Giving up was not in his vocabulary: if it were, he wouldn’t be dead.

Third came the jump. It would take both of them a while to realise what had truly happened. Valerian had never witnessed it before like this, Amparo had never witnessed it at all, used to the energy of those who were gone and came back as ghosts, or sometimes, never left, changing into something which shouldn’t walk their world. Those were the kind of changes in the dead that she was used to. This was different. It felt as if Anatole’s presence had jumped and relocated somewhere to never be found, somewhere which wasn’t the realm of the Dead.

In the magical realms, the person known as Aelius Anatole Radošević De Silva had climbed to the highest peak of the Fool’s realm. There he could see a dragon fly above his head, getting lost in the horizon while he stood alone in the overgrown island. The words had been clear: We will look after you, and then the Fool’s: When you’re ready, all you have to do is jump, I will be waiting.

Waiting for what? For whom?

For him, of course, he knew that. But where? And most importantly why?

He stared at the horizon as darkness faded, and the greyish first tints of sunrise left way to an explosion of colour, and as if the shoe he was waiting to drop finally hit him on the head, he laughed. The conclusion came to him like a realisation, and on top of a building that was once shaped like the Lazaret he cried. He only hoped his mother would forgive him for making her weep for however long. He would walk the clouds again, he would see the faces of the people he loved again, he would step on the cobblestones of Vesuvia and breathe again.

Giving up had never been in his vocabulary. All he had to do was jump.

“Am I dead?” He had asked, a year ago.

“Yes,” he had been answered. “But I do not think you’ll stay dead for long.”

He recalled that conversation as he drew a breath and, like a lover running to the arms of the subject of their affections, he ran to the edge of the precipice and jumped.

It took Amparo and Valerian about eight months to piece together what had happened and to dare say it to each other. The first clue came in the shape of energy, picked up by Amparo before Valerian could; energy which reassembled Anatole’s, was Anatole’s, but faded like a fire which stubbornly fights against its nature to be lit. Or perhaps, like a fire which does not have the right conditions to do so. Amparo had promised herself she would leave the dead alone, but she guessed that if the energy of the dead felt so alive, then she was allowed to look.

She didn’t do it immediately, too hurt, too scared for all of it to be wishful thinking. But what if it was him? What if it was him and he needed someone who knew how to transverse energy and life and death? Amparo felt she was justified enough to ‘create a tether’ between that energy and herself, a way of keeping tabs on her dead cousin.

That energy disappeared suddenly after three months, and reappeared two weeks after that just like it had gone: with no warnings. This was when Valerian picked it up too — the distinct energy of someone who had died and come back to life, someone who, against all odds had come back as themselves but didn’t know who they were yet. Valerian had never witnessed such a thing face to face, instead he had seen the results of it once when he was in his twenties. Most of the time necromancers did not interfere with the natural order of things, and when they did, it usually was for their own selfish reasons: a necromancer who did not understand that everyone eventually had to die was either a very incompetent necromancer, or a very dangerous necromancer.

It took both of them some time to raise the topic with each other. When they did, they felt like they could breathe again, like there was someone else to bear this weight with; Valerian was old, older than most, and while he had no intention of dying yet, he didn’t know if he could bear something like this alone again.

Their plan was to track the energy so they could come to the bottom of it, with Amparo doing the tracking and neither of them doing the talking, too aware of the negative consequences this could have. If they were wrong, they’d break their families hearts for nothing and they couldn’t do that to them, especially to Anatole’s parents, Valerius, Amparo’s own mother, Milenko or his friends. However, if they were right, Valerian had advised Amparo to tread with caution.

“Death is not a pause, but often a reset. How people come back, or how they remember who they are — if they remember at all — is a very delicate matter, my dear.”

Amparo now was one of the few living people who knew Valerian Cassano, former darling of Vesuvian theatre and window of Iovanus, former Consul, was a necromancer, but it seemed like a light secret to keep in comparison to the possibility of Anatole being alive. Without saying it, they both knew the secret would be their responsibility to keep, theirs to carry until they knew more of the situation. How had he come back, had there been side effects, was it really, truly him? Valerian explained to Amparo that there was a possibility the person who came back would look like Anatole without being Anatole: his entire personality and everything that made him himself misplaced, lost, as something new and alien took its stead. A new personality, for a new person.

Amparo hated to admit it made sense, even though she insisted this had to be Anatole, it felt too much like him. Even if it felt like he was coming from behind a veil, or from underwater. With a determination not even Valerian’s well-meaning advice could temper (though she accepted it, as she knew he cared deeply about Anatole) Amparo swore she would find her cousin. She owed it up to him.

“Valerian?” She said one day, after much thinking, finding the old man in the winter garden. “I think I know how to find him without being seen. I think we have to wake up Antu.”

“I’m afraid you’re right, Lele, darling.”

Valerian stood up with the help of his walking cane, moving towards the closest bed of flowers; Amparo rushed to help him kneel down, but he shook his head telling her to save it for when he had to stand back up. He ungloved one of his hands, handing the garment to Amparo as it revealed a perfectly youthful hand in its absence, the skin looking more like it belonged to a 20 year-old than a centenary, and counting, old man. When Valerian had stopped practising necromancy for his own reasons, all that pent up magic began working its way through the magician himself, or affecting his immediate surroundings.

One of those side-effects had been his abnormally young hands. The magic regenerated them on its own accord, the instrument it had been one casted with.

He cut a handful of flowers, and in their place new ones began to grow in a blink. “Here,” Valerian said after Amparo helped him up, “if I cut them, they will last a little longer.”

It was three o’clock, the Palazzo moving to the rhythm of its afternoon shift. Amparo would have to go through most of it in order to reach the small external garden it had, and from there she’d have to descend to the family’s mausoleum. Of course, Anatole’s actual body was missing. Or rather, it was nothing but charred bone so there had been no body to bury. As she made her way, no one from the staff stopped her, nor asked if she needed anything, the flowers on her hand were telling enough. She prayed to the Sun in high-heaven and the Moon looking after her that no one would.

Amparo also prayed she didn’t run into Anatole’s parents. Nothing would ruin her tries more than running into Louisa, or even worse, Vlad. Valerius was a different matter entirely, she was angry at him over some argument he had had with her mother in the Council, so while she had no desire to cross paths with him, he was relatively easier to get rid of. One would think Louisa would be the hardest, but Anatole’s mother grieved her son in different ways which luckily involved staying as far away from the mausoleum as possible.

Dr. De Silva, as a former war doctor, was no stranger to Death, nor she was unevered by it or the rituals the living had to reminisce on those they have lost; however, Louisa De Silva would not cry tears to an empty coffin. She said her son was in other places, not there, so she didn’t need to go as often as her husband did, even if she still went down to leave him flowers once a week.

Vlad, on the other hand, had practically become as part of the family’s mausoleum as the dead themselves.

Like Anatole’s father, his familiar had also become a permanent fixture in it. After Anatole died, Antu kept going back to the East Docks on his own, waiting for him to come back, trying to throw himself into the sea to swim all the way to the Lazaret. He was too smart of a creature to stay doing that forever, so sooner rather than later it sunk in that his magician, his companion, his saviour and protector was well and truly dead. Amparo wasn’t sure what sounds Racoons made when they were sad, strangely, she had said they must’ve sounded a lot like dogs, or perhaps, howling foxes.

She had never expected Antu’s outward noise (a sad little series of chirps) to be nothing in comparison to the wailing cacophony that would echo in the mind of whomever could communicate with the raccoon. Would’ve she been able to drink enough alcohol, drink whatever potion, undergo whatever spell to not hear it, Amparo would’ve done it.

But if anyone could track Anatole it would be Antupillán. Luckily for Amparo, he was the only thing in the mausoleum, except of course, for the Dead, but the Dead were always everywhere.

Antu came back two days later.

He is alive, my Anatole, he is alive!

#the arcana #the arcana oc #the arcana mc #the arcana apprentice #my writing #aelius anatole #apprentice anatole #anatole's apprentice rewrites #amparo cassano #valerian cassano #antu the raccoon #the radosevic-cassano

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symphonyofthewrite · 4 years

Text

Such Fragile Things (Ch2)

Fandom: Castlevania (Netflix)

Summary: Dracula thought love was gentle...but it is more piercing than any stake. He knows this best when his son is born (Ch1), and in his final moments (Ch2).

Character focus: Dracula and Alucard

Notes: I also posted this on my writng blog @antihero-writings if you want to check it out there!!

A huge thank you to everyone who commented and/or reblogged the first chapter!! <3 <3

**Major spoilers for S2 E7:"For Love"**

Chapter 2: His Father's Death

Dracula throws the golden man into wall, hard enough to break it, revealing the room on the other side.

Nails against the wood, against stone, footsteps merciless as a death toll, blood in the burning halls; Dracula is the monster from the stories after all.

He stalks into the room, his cloak furling behind him, seeking his prey. The kind of snarl only things not-quite-human-anymore make emanates from his throat.

The moment he crosses the threshold, that snarl morphs into a gasp, and, as if it were some magic barrier…everything looks different.

His cloak falls softly, quietly, like a hand on his shoulder.

This dhampir, this man, up until now has been Alucard. The reverse of him. The thing meant to destroy him and stop his war. A hunter of vampires that is himself a vampire—(or half of one at least). No, not a vampire hunter. Just Dracula’s hunter. All he has been is another thing in Dracula’s way.

But this thing sitting against the bed, failing to catch his breath, golden hair falling about his face…looks different.

A little boy is gasping, leaning on his wooden sword just to stay up.

“Father, do you think we can stop? I need a break.”

Vlad laughs, and the sound is warm. His hands fall to his sides and his smiles, stepping up to his son.

“Of course, Adrian.” He puts his hand on his shoulder/ruffles his hair. “You’ve done well today.

He is…so small.

This bed. A bookshelf. A wardrobe. A desk, with charts and maps. A basket of toys in the corner. All too small. Too dusty.

The window is letting too much light in.

On the wall, a painting of a family. Too happy.

…a boy, hurting, beneath the bed.

Not a hunter, or an annoyance, or an enemy. Not a mindless, heartless, thing. Not an other. Not a him or an it to be disposed of, but a living, breathing, thinking, hurting you.

A very specific you. A you with a name. A you with whom Dracula had shared so much of his life. A you who perhaps knew Vlad more than anymore else. Not a him or an it to be destroyed, a you that he needed so desperately to keep alive.

Not Alucard; the thing meant to destroy him.

Adrian.

“It’s your room.”

His fingers, a moment ago poised to claw at this man, curl gently into a fist, hiding his nails.

The rest of the castle was drenched in bloodshed. The rest of the castle was full of war. The rest of the castle had turned itself towards it’s master’s deeds, destroying itself in a pointless fight, just like him.

But not this room. He had protected this room from all the blood. He dare not bring it with him.

The heavens turn from hazardous red to delicate blue.

Both of them stare up into the stars. Not the real ones—though they are here to guide them too. The ones on the ceiling. The ones they played under, read under, the ones this golden man once dreamed under, the ones he used to learn their names and places in the sky when he was but a child. The rich blue like a spell, putting the warriors into a trance in the middle the battlefield.

—(But this isn’t the battlefield, and that’s why the war must stop here)—

The blood is clearing from Vlad’s view. It has been a long time since he’s seen the world without the blood.

The room has been empty for a while, but the boy it belongs to is here now.

And, in his proper place, all at once this golden man is that fragile thing again. That thing that could break if Vlad held him wrong. That thing Vlad, more than anything, wanted to keep alive, to protect, and who he would die for before he ever saw him get hurt.

Barely perceptible, Vlad is shaking.

His hands are no longer claws against the walls. He sees them for what ugly, monstrous things they are. Ugly, monstrous, because of what they’ve been doing. He crosses them over his chest, as if to cage them; as if trying to keep them from hurting anything, ever, anymore. As if to feel his own heartbeat, and remind himself there is still something living there.

This is the boy who he played cards, and chess, and swords with. This is the boy who asked about the myths in the stars, and the ones in our hearts. This is the boy who he bounced on his knee, and read to, and comforted when he cried, and on very special occasions sang to sleep.

“My boy.”

Adrian is trying to stand, and for a moment his father sees a tiny thing on wobbly legs reaching for his open arms.

“I-I’m killing my boy.”

Dracula steps to the painting—(though he can barely feel his feet)—where an echo of his wife sits on canvas, holding that infant golden thing.

He remembers her now. He wasn’t sure he did before.

“Lisa…I’m killing our boy.” His voice is soft and cracked and breakable itself. “We painted this room. We…made these toys…”

He was never one for sentiment, never grew attached to objects…but as he looks around at this room, and the things in it, those moments are flickering through his mind now—(is this what they mean when they say one’s life flashes before your eyes? Had he really forgotten so much? Had he really forgotten what life was?)—and the blood seems so obscene now.

Not in front of Adrian.

“It’s our boy, Lisa.”

With an exhale Alucard gets up, and it sounds like the world being crushed into a fine powder. The motion is not gentle…it comes with a cracking and all-too clear purpose, and now his steps are as calculated and foreboding as Dracula’s were moments ago.

Vlad’s hands are now too dangerous to let sit at his sides, so he uses them to cover his eyes…to hide his pain from the world, to hide the world from his pain. A feeble defense against the pointed intention in his son’s own dangerous hands. Playing peekaboo one last time.

“Your greatest gift to me. And I’m killing him.”

He hears Adrian’s breath very close to him, but it is not that of a beast ready to pounce, it is heavy, like the world is sitting on his chest.

He takes his claws from his eyes to look into his son’s face.

Vlad laughs, and the sound is cold.

“You mean to stake me?”

“You want me to.”

“What?”

“You didn’t kill me before. You’re not going to kill me now. You want this to end as much as I do.”

“Do I?!”

“You died when my mother died. You know you did. This entire catastrophe has been nothing but history’s longest suicide note.”

And if he could hurt this boy—Adrian—who he loved more than anything, then:

“I must already be dead.”

Adrian’s eyes are not full of malice. He is not like anyone else that would try to kill the vampire king. Anyone else’s eyes would not be soft; they would be solid and still, pointed and gleaming with with hunger and hate. Anyone else wouldn’t hesitate, wouldn’t be gentle.

Even now, Adrian’s eyes are still full of sunlight; trembling, rippling, ripping sunlight.

It is not fear, nor anger that makes his eyes shudder. It is heartbreak. Imminent heartbreak.

Because he wishes he could save him. Because he knows he cannot.

His heart has been aching for a very long time, slowly coming apart, and it is about to shatter. This golden man is about to split his own chest for the sake of saving the world.

Once upon a time all the stories they told him ended happily, and families stayed together, and no one ever died. His heart must fracture, for he knows their own cannot.

How could Dracula ever try to take that sunlight from the world, when Lisa had brought it down to him from her place in the sky? He’d traveled the world in search of the sun...but his sunlight was right here…and if he couldn’t see that then…

He closes his eyes. He opens them. A silent ask. A silent answer. They both know.

Alucard steps closer. And it is not to hold him tight—(no matter how much he they both wish he could just wrap his arms around him and cry, like long ago, and understand that after the rain everything would be better).

Now Dracula is the fragile thing. And they both know what he must do.

He is trying to be gentle. For love is the only thing that can be harsh in the kindest word, and gentle in the cruelest stroke.

That horrible cracking, crackling, squelching sound. Red drips from his chest along the golden man’s sleeve.

It isn’t death, really. It is mercy. Mercy on humanity. Mercy on Vlad himself. Death had already administered its kiss when Lisa died. And in his undead state Dracula had tried to spread that death to everything and everywhere else, in the world’s most exorbitant suicide note.

“Son.” The word is soft, rasping; the wind in a hollow house.

“Father.” The word is a broken plea; the sun on the abandoned floorboards and dolls, wishing it could illuminate the family that once lived there instead—

And this hurts, yes, but even so, it is the love behind it that is more piercing than any stake.

Love has never been breakable. Love is what does the breaking.

There is something defiant in Alucard’s eyes as he drives it in farther.

His heartbeat fills the room.

And, after much bending, the stake bores through, and the mirror breaks.

—(And for a moment Adrian could have sworn the sound came from his chest)—

Dracula does not burst into flame. Death, for him, is not an explosive show. It is soft whispers: he turns slowly to ashes, without any burn.

Vlad wants to wrap his arms around this small, precious, golden thing one last time. To say goodbye.

Adrian never looked at his father like a monster before, never backed away from his touch, but Dracula could swear the fear in his eyes now—(a little boy hiding from the thunder)—is the only reason the breath is leaving his chest.

Adrian is so, so tiny. (And after everything, he cannot bring himself to deliver the last stroke.)

Dracula’s last thought, the sonnet of a dying monster, is not a curse, or a threat, but something very gentle indeed.

Lisa, Adrian…I’m so sorry.

The only thing left of him is a wedding ring.

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phantomphangphucker · 4 years

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Ectober Day 11: Villain - Sinners Are We Chap. 1: I’m Kinda Glad That You’re Evil Too

When Danny goes down, so does everyone else. Including one Valerie Gray. And Dan couldn’t be happier.

Danny Fenton’s life had gone to shit and it didn’t take long after for Valerie Gray’s to follow right behind. Like Danny, she had lost her entire genuine social circle. All the other kids at school certainly weren’t friends of hers that’s for sure. And when Danny went with Vlad? Both of them seemed to just disappear in the wind.

Honestly? She was furious he hadn’t taken her with them. Wasn’t she practically family? Didn’t both of them value her? Vlad said time and time again how proud he was of her and how important she was to him. Danny had loved her once, and had stayed a strong friend after. Yet they both left her behind to rot. Danny, she could forgive, he had lost everything and nearly died; but Vlad? No. Sure she had her dad, but their relationship was strained at best, toxic at worst. He hated what she did and was meek. While she had a violent streak a mile long and loved to fight ghosts. Combine that with all three of her only friends and the one man who supported her vanishing in the aftermath of a fiery explosion, and she became a walking bomb of anger and resentment.

School didn’t help either, none of them gave a damn about the trio after the initial shock and gave even less of a damn about her. If anything, she became the new target for the torment all three had faced. Difference was? She hadn’t been about to tolerate that. Which eventually lead to a quick and unpleasant expulsion due to repeated and violent fights. Her shattering Dash’s knee had been the breaking point for the sports-obsessed school, and she couldn’t have been happier.

Screw the lot of them.

And what was she going to need schooling for anyway? She was a hunter. Now she was free to do that without the distraction of school. Which only led to her feeding her aggressive side. To her fighting more and more. Which her dad was having none of. Because then she had been around him more too, and that led to more fights. Which, her father put his foot down on after she threw a lamp through their stupid thin walls. So that left her out on the streets, with the only family she had left telling her to stay the Hell away. It was at that point she started to resent people more than ghosts.

Because what had ghosts really taken from her? Nothing at this point. Sure that damn dog had got her dad fired and ruined her clothing. But it was humans who abandoned her as a ‘friend’ and ‘family’. It was humans who had harassed her at school and sneered at her on the streets. It was humans who were the mean ones.

The treatment of her as the huntress didn’t help things either. Jack and Maddie, though strange and even dangerous, were likeable and friendly. Red was not. Especially since her grieving tactics seemed to involve taking things a little too far more often than not. She had been stupid proud the first time she managed to actually destroy a ghost, but the first time she did that publicly? The town reacted with nothing but abject horror. Crucified her as a murderer and danger to society. They didn’t reject her though. Of course those pricks didn’t, they needed her. She was the only line of defence against the ghost onslaught.

And eventually she decided: you know what? Screw this whole fucking town. You can all burn for all I care. And stopped giving even an ounce of a damn about bystanders or damages. She was just here to fight, that was it. End of story. If someone died in the crossfires then that wasn’t her problem. These people didn’t deserve for it to be her problem. Fuck every last one of them.

Then her ‘father’ really screwed her over, revealed who she was. The girl behind the mask. And all Hell had broken loose. People would cross the street to avoid her, which only pissed her off. The motel was suddenly perpetually full and any place that could get away with refusing her service did. Eventually, she had to resort to petty theft and death threats just to get a decent meal.

She was absolutely done. Done with this damn town. Done with the stupid people in it. Done with humans. At least a ghost she could pound the crap out of. And they, the ghosts, respected and feared her for it. Good. And she’ll let those ghosts destroy that stupid town, it was retribution as far as she was concerned.

And that’s when she met him again, as she was walking down a deserted road away from the only home she’d ever known and one that had scorned her. And he had looked different. In a way much similar to her. Less friendly. Less kind. Less helpful. Actually...

He had looked like a monster.

All sharp fangs and claws, forked tongue and flaming hair. Red eyes. He couldn't fool a blind man into thinking he was ‘good’ with the way he looked then. Add in the deeper voice as if puberty was a thing ghosts experienced. And the really stupid thing? The first thought that had popped up in her mind was that he was kind of... hot. Which was ridiculous. And she remembers the conversation they had then. Him floating down to stand on the ground with arms crossed and a mean smirk across his face.

“Well if it isn’t the Red Huntress”, quirked a mocking eyebrow, “come looking to hunt me down?”.

She had rolled eyes, “hardly. Unlike the others you aren’t pathetically easy to beat the shit out of”.

That had gotten him to more genuinely raise his eyebrows in slight surprise, “oh? And what if I just so happened to be on my way to Amity? What would you do then, little hunter?”.

She had known that was a threat instantly, she hadn’t known just how serious of a threat it had been though. “Ha, like I care. Raise that miserable place to the ground for all I care”.

He had actually laughed at that, loudly, and uncrossed his arms to shrug exaggeratedly, “well I’ll be. Wasn’t it your ‘sworn duty’ to protect them? That town and it’s people? Whatever could they have done to change your mind”, he had actually looked slightly impressed then, “you are impressively stubborn after all”.

“Hmmm, let me make a list. Oh wait! I don’t care. Those people are dead to me”.

“Oh? And what of ghosts?”.

She had stared at him for a bit then, though had never been able to figure out what the fuck his angle was. “Punching bags that talk back. Might have destroyed a few. What’s it to you”, she had scoffed, “not like you like ghosts either”.

He had laughed again, almost sounding like a cackle, “fair enough, Huntress. Can’t say I haven’t destroyed a few myself”, then smirked and leaned forward menacingly, “what if I said I killed Vlad? Or your dear sweet little Danny”.

She had scoffed, not believing him for a second, “that’s bullshit and both of us know that”.

He shrugged and leaned back, “hardly. Though fine, I just blew up the guys mansion. Didn’t bother confirming any corpses”.

She had squinted at him, the nonchalance had made it clear that he was being honest that time, “yeah well, that man can rot too. He turned his back on me, so fuck him. Fuck people honestly. And what? Did ghosts finally tick you off enough to want them obliterated. Join the fucking party”.

He had smirked and laughed, the smile had been honestly charming; not that she admitted that at the time. “No. I just want to see everything burn, roast marshmallows in the flames, and dance in the aftermath”.

“Well that’s ghostly of you, Phantom”.

He had rolled his eyes very exaggeratedly, “it seems you’re no different”, he had walked close and gotten his face in hers, “so who’s the ghostly one here? Seems you’ve turned your back on your kind. And here you’re supposed to be the ‘good human’”, she swore he purred then, “you know, that almost makes me disappointed. You were always my favourite. Not like any of those other idiots stood a chance”.

She had huffed and refused to back up from him, “agreed. And I don’t think I even have to point out you were my favourite target”.

“And now?”.

She glared at him, “those people have done worse to me than you ever have. I told you, screw them”, and smirked a little, “what? You gone deaf over the years?”.

He had tilted his head back and laughed loudly again, she hadn’t remembered him ever laughing that much or smiling that much. “Damn!”, and looked to her with that stupid cocky smile, “in that case, want to watch it burn together?”.

She had squinted at him more, “what are you playing at”.

Phantom had just rolled his eyes and walked past her, “as I told you, you were always my favourite, Red”. And wasn’t that a mindfuck?

She had turned her head back to watch him walk, looked back to the direction she had been going, and then made a decision that would change everything.

Screw them. Fuck them. This was just. This was what they deserved. They were going to burn and she was going to enjoy the flames.

She had turned on her heel and stalked after him, determined anger in her eyes and a small mean smile on her face. He had looked back to her, at the sound of her footsteps, and full-on cackled before grinning wild and malicious.

In another time, Amity Park would have been the last town standing. Heralded by a hero standing against her long time enemy. But this time, the charred twisted mess of debris, blood, and guts was the spark that started the fire that would set the whole world ablaze. Brought about at the whims of a duo with stained hands twined together doing the waltz across the remains; grinning and laughing all the while.

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cavesalamander · 3 years

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My brief thoughts on this season of anime!

Just a quick review of the ones I’d recommend and/or keep watching. I managed to find all of the below on Funimation or Crunchyroll or Youtube!

Horymia: (Yes) This is looking to be a very funny romcom slice of life style anime, and seems to be a fairly good one! Had me laughing a lot. The Main couple are a nerdy quiet boy who’s actually dumb as a sack of bricks using his disheveled appearance to hide his tattoos and piercings, and a popular pretty girl who’s actually a total homebody. Their friends seem to have a lot of potential to be fleshed out as the series progresses and I look forward to seeing how it goes!

So I’m a Spider, So What?: (Yes) Whooo another isekai (excited)! This time a girl and her entire class!? Get isekai’d in a massive explosion. The main character reincarnates as a trash monster in a dungeon and must fight her way up the food chain just to survive. Meanwhile her friends who have mostly reincarnated as Cool Humans or the occasional elf or baby dragon, have mostly found each other, and want to figure out what happened/why and if they’re all okay. It’s genuinely pretty funny, though leans a little too hard sometimes on the gamey aspects of this new world. I think it may get darker as it goes along too.

Mushoku Tensei: (No) Whooo another isekai (derogatory). 34 yo old man gets reincarnated and uses his worldly experience to Learn Magic Fast and creep on his mom and prepubescent tutor. If you can stomach that stuff, it actually has a fair amount of potential? It did set itself up to touch on some interesting stuff down the road, but I’m kind of Over the horny toddler/young boy trope and it kinda just seems like the protagonist is Just Awesome At Everything but not in a remotely charming way.

Cells at Work Code Black: (Yes) If you liked Cells at Work, this is that but dingier, and is able to tackle some darker themes - like what stress, smoking, drinking, and probably eventually STDs can do to your body.

Kemono Jihen: (Yes) I don’t wanna explain TOO much about the plot of this one because it looks to be a mystery series, and the first episode sets it up the characters very very well. A man from the city is called to a rural town where animals are being mysteriously killed and found rotting. He’s tasked with finding and killing the perpetrator, assumed to be a monster of some kind. It does the horror very well, and even in the first episode manages some twistyness.

The Hidden Dungeon Only I Can Enter: (No) Even for a blatant fan service anime this one is just......... stupid. It might have a scrap of joy to it if the protagonist were anything other than a boring sycophant. His harem just all seems to be random girls who’s singular personality traits are to be in love with him in various stereotypical ways, that he just uses to min max his Cool Stats. But like, it’s not even self aware enough to make that into an interesting premise.

Sk8: (Yes) It’s a racing anime that seems super stylish and fun and very well animated. The protagonists have some cool chemistry already, and it really leans into the Underground Illegal Racing part of the fun - all the various characters who battle in death defying races through this abandoned mine, all have seemingly ordinary day jobs. Definitely worth a shot if that sounds up your alley.

Suppose a Kid from the Last Dungeon Boonies moved to a starter town?: (Probably) Okay so the premise is just there in the title and is actually pretty fun. Think: a random NPC who is considered pretty weak where the monsters are lv 50 moving somewhere where the monsters are scary at lv 5, shenanigans ensue. The MC boy is hilariously oblivious to the fact that anyone with a shred of sense can see he’s insanely over leveled to the area, and just trying to be nice and polite to everyone ^u^. The tentative nature of my recommendation is that it is kind of leaning harder on the Girls are Obsessed With Him train than is ideal. How much it depends on that as opposed to utilizing the premise to its fullest extent will have an enormous bearing on how fun the show is to watch going forward.

Ex-Arm: (Absolutely not but yes) It’s a fucking train wreck.

Heavens Design Team: (Yes) God decided to outsource creating animals to a team of angels, and works as a client giving weird ass requests for the angels to fill. Hilarity ensues, and it is peak edutainment to boot. It’s so much fun learning weird shit about animals, or trying to guess the animal these seemingly random train of failed attempts leads to.

Dr. Ramune -Mysterious Disease Specialist-: (No) It has a promising premise and some good moments. The main characters are solving these weird “diseases” that people get by finding the actual emotional cause and using magic of some kind to monkey paw it into a resolution. This could be really fun and interesting, but something about the execution just... falls flat? Like maybe it picks up as the season goes on but for now it’s not rly worth it.

Vlad Love: (Yes) I was going through the list of anime this season and was like wtf is this and literally just now watched episode 1. It’s about a girl with a blood donation kink and her vampire girlfriend. Literally. It’s rly funny and over the top ridiculous but like, gay vampires.

Back Arrow: (No) It’s like... fine. It’s about these two warring kingdoms surrounded by a wall with a mountain range between. They worship the wall as god, and occasionally get gifts from beyond it, in the form of mech suits they use to fight each other in. One day a boy shows up from beyond the wall in one of those suits and no memories of anything and he wants to get back. Which... could be promising I guess? But something about the show just didn’t grab my attention.

Skate-Leading Stars: (No) It’s like Yuri on ice if it was less gay and less well written I guess...? The first episode set up the Drama competently enough, but I just... couldn’t give a shit.

Project Scard: (No) For some reason part of Tokyo has been turned into a post apocalyptic hellscape where people just murder each other. They also have super powered tattoos and use them to fight each other. Animation is very similar to Handshakers - which is an Aesthetic that may not appeal to some. The first episode didn’t rly do much for me but I could see it going somewhere if it tries.

Wave!!: (No) Might have been a tentative yes if I hadn’t gone on and watched the second episode. First ep went hard with the queerbaiting cause they want to be the new Free! but with surfing, but Ep 2 just forgot all about that entirely. Dialogue is mostly boring and there’s like 3 sets, which becomes painfully obvious very quickly by ep 2.

Idoly Pride: (No) Literally looks like they ripped off the waifus of a bunch of other more popular anime and made an idol anime with the most basic ass idol plot. Nothing exceptional here.

Gekidol: (undecided) It’s an idol anime... set after a mysterious apocalyptic event? It’s mostly so far seemed intriguing as hell but not my jam. Mysterious craters destroyed parts of Japan, and its rebuilding and the MCs wanna bring light to the world. Maybe aliens exist? Idk! I’m intrigued.

I*Chu: (No) Another idol anime but this time it’s cute boys! Idk maybe this is a decent idol anime but it rly didn’t grab me and idol stuff isn’t usually my jam. I couldn’t tell anything exceptionally unique about this one from just the first episode.

WIXOSS Diva: (No, but) I don’t normally watch spin-offs of series but I didn’t realize until halfway into this that it was one cause Crunchyroll didn’t attach it to the core line. It’s like... magical girl battle idols in VR! Which honestly if you’re a fan of that it might actually be worth checking out.(edited)

Idolls!: (No) Another idol anime! But this one uses mocap 3d models. Phoned in plot line delivered by a weird tiki statue that tells the girls what to do. Seems extraordinarily low budget, and more just a way to sell music. The whole episode happened in a single set and was basically just... girls want to make it big as idols... oh no... gotta book a stage! Yay they got one! Now must get an audience! Like... ok

Hortensia Saga: (No but) Sword and sorcery fantasy setting that’s mostly sword, main character is a princess masquerading as a male knight alongside the son of her dead parents’s also dead bodyguard. The first episode is very lore heavy and felt kinda like the prologue to a video game. So it ended up feeling a little expository and trope laden, but it has potential. Seems a bit Game of Thronesy? Wasn’t like... bad or anything, so if it’s your thing you might enjoy it.

Otherside Picnic: (Yes) I think it’s gay first of all, two girls going exploring / treasure hunting / monster hunting in a bizarre mirror world to their own. Girls are cute, it’s very interesting premise and writing seems solid.

Wonder Egg Priority: (Yes) It deals with some HEAVY themes? But it’s... a bit of a psychological horror but in a way that feels very like it’s dealing with some of the real life issues. The main character girl comes across as neurodivergent, and it’s just... idk man the first episode was good and left me wanting more.

#Winter 2021 anime #Its of course flavored by my personal preferences but idc

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antihero-writings · 4 years

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Such Fragile Things (Ch2)

Fandom: Castlevania (Netflix)

Summary: Dracula thought love was gentle...but it is more piercing than any stake. He knows this best when his son is born (Ch1), and in his final moments (Ch2).

Character focus: Dracula and Alucard

Notes: I’ll also post this on my Castlevania blog @symphonyofthewrite if you want to check it out there!!

A huge thank you to everyone who commented and/or reblogged the first chapter!! <3 <3

Fair warning, this chapter is VERY different from chapter 1. So if you’re looking for more fuffy Tepes family adorableness...this chapter isn't that. (I absolutely do have more fluffy, cute Tepes family fics you could read though!!) This is a mirror fic, so rather than being a continuation or similar childhood story, this chapter is the mirror of ch1. I hope this chapter is still good, and worth reading, and personally I like it a lot, and find it very powerful...but it was also pretty heart wrenching.