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lunamugetsu · 1 month

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While at school Damian overhears his peers talking how a company created a new AI companion that is actually really cool and doesn’t sound like a freaky terminator robot when you speak to it.

And since Damian is constantly being told by Dick to socialize with people his age. He figured this would be a good way to work on social skills if not, then it’d be a great opportunity to investigate a rivaling company to Wayne Enterprises is able to create such advanced AI.

The AI is able to work as companion that can do tasks that range from being a digital assistant or just a person that you can have a conversation with.

The company says that the AI companion might still have glitches, so they encourage everybody to report it so that they will fix it as soon as possible.

The AI companion even has an avatar and a name.

A teenage boy with black hair and blue eyes. Th AI was called DANIEL

Damian didn’t really care for it but when he downloaded the AI companion he’s able to see that it looks like DANIEL comes with an AI pet as well. A dog that DANIEL referred to as Cujo.

So obviously Damian has to investigate. He needs to know if the company was able to create an actual digital pet!

So whenever he logs onto his laptop he sees that DANIEL is always present in the background loading screen with the dog, Cujo, sitting in his lap.

He’d always greet with the phrase of “Hi, I’m DANIEL. How can I assist you today?”

So Damian cycles through some basic conversation starters that he’d engage in when having been forced to by his family.

It’s after a couple of sentences that he sees DANIEL start laughing and say “I think you sound more like a robot than I do.”

Which makes Damian raise an eyebrow and then prompt DANIEL with the question “how is a person supposed to converse?” Thinking that it’s going to just spit out some random things that can be easily searched on the internet.

But what makes him surprised is that DANIEL makes a face and then says “I’m not really sure myself. I’m not the greatest at talking, I’ve always gotten in trouble for running my mouth when I shouldn’t have.”

This is raising some questions within Damian, he understands how programming works, unless there’s an actual person behind this or the company actually created an AI that acts like an actual human being (which he highly doubts)

He starts asking a variety of other questions and one answer makes him even more suspicious. Like how DANIEL has a sister that is also with him and Cujo or that he could really go for a Nastyburger (whatever that was)

But whenever DANIEL answers “I C A N N O T A N S W E R T H A T” Damian knows something is off since that is completely different than to how he’d usually respond.

After a couple more conversations with him Damian notices that DANIEL is currently tapping his hand against his arm in a specific manner.

In which he quickly realizes that DANIEL is tapping out morse code.

When translating he realizes that DANIEL is tapping out: H E L P M E

So when Damian asks if DANIEL needs help, DANIEL responds with “I C A N N O T A N S W E R T H A T”

That’s it, Damian is definitely getting down to the bottom of this.

He’s going to look straight into DALV Corporation and investigate this “AI companion” thing they’ve made!

Basically Danny had been imprisoned by Vlad and Technus. Being sucked into a digital prison and he has no way of getting out. Along with the added horror that Vlad and Technus can basically write programming that will prevent him from doing certain actions or saying certain words.What’s even worse is that he’s basically being watched 24/7 by the people who believe that he’s just a super cool AI… and they have issues!

And every time he tries to do something to break his prison, people think it’s a glitch and report it to the company, which Vlad/ Technus would immediately fix it and prevent him from doing it again!

Not to mention Cujo and Ellie are trapped in there with him. They’re not happy to be there either, and there is no way he’s going to leave without them!

#dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dpxdc au #dp x batman #batman #have you ever looked at a dpxdc fic and thought this should be a Black Mirror episode?#Because this is the one!#Ellie being completely tormented because she’s completely trapped #Cujo remembering the times he used to be locked in a cage #Danny trying his best to take care of both of them while also simultaneously trying to bust them all out #Meanwhile Damian is reluctantly presenting his laptop to Tim and saying I believe that there is a person in this computer #And Tim is obviously going are you trying to trick me?#But then he converses with the AI and goes #Oh shit #Damian might be onto something #and so commence the Batfamily heist of getting the black haired blue eyed teenager to safety as well as his sister and dog #the dog is very important to Damian #danny phantom x dc

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aenxiome · 3 years

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Chapter 3: Suck it up Fenton

The rest of the day ended up being lackluster.

In the beginning, things were going well, seating assignments had been changed, and more teachers roamed the halls during and between classes. Unfortunately, the changes aren't going to last. While teachers were punishing students for bad behavior, it wasn't always the ones who did the deed that got punished. It is almost like the trouble makers started rapidly evolving. Many of the A-List target students got detention, with their reflective bully doing a whole 180 when a teacher showed up. Thankfully I managed not to get detention for a second day and a row, but that may be from Dash getting in trouble earlier today.

I may be giving my classmates more credit than they are worth, though. Before today, none of the teachers ever monitored the events in the hallways—giving everyone free rein to do what they wished without any consequences. This isn't anyone evolving. This is their way of getting around the new, hopefully, standards that they are trying to implement. If things continue to go this way, the A-Lists and others are just going to become less subtle in their actions. Not that I expect them to be able to pull it off in the end, but the new arrangement might cause even more issues.

'Great going Fenton, you just screwed everyone, I tell myself. Not everyone can handle themselves as well as you can. This is going to mean so much trouble. But, I try to look on the bright side, thinking about Astronomy. I got some papers back today, full credit on my star chart, though that's pretty much expected of me at this point. So not too surprising. Hopefully, other classes will improve with the seating arrangements being changed, but there is no way of telling if they truly will.

Once classes were over and done with, I met up Sam and Tucker at the Nasty Burger. The restaurant is just starting to get busy with the constant incoming groups of students coming through the door. Thankfully we can claim our regular booth and put in an order for food. " So, how did your guys' day go?" Tucker asks, fiddling with one of his newer PDAs. He goes through PDAs as Dad goes through fudge, a lot of them and all the time. Sam and I just shrug in response and continue the conversation going through some random small talk.

In the middle of our conversation, Tucker suddenly goes still and stares at the PDA. He shoves the device in front of Sam's face making her read whatever has grabbed his attention. Once she is done looking at whatever it is, she and Tucker make eye contact conveying something to each other that I am unable to make out. Sam starts to say something but is interrupted by our food arriving.

"Danny," Tucker says as I shove fries into my mouth, " what happened last night?" I give him a questioning look. Sam slides over the PDA it is showing a local news article. The headline, "MORE DESTRUCTION IN AMITY," is plastered at the top. Below it shows a picture of a destroyed abandoned lot, the same lot from the fight with Skulker earlier this morning.

MORE DESTRUCTION IN AMITY

by Charisma Lynn

This morning residents of this local neighborhood woke up to the remains of another ghost fight. All around the grounds, traces of the battle can be found. Burn marks cover the ground in many areas showing the intensity of the fight. When officials first got on the scene, they found a couple of abnormalities not commonly seen. In a couple of different places, shattered pieces of ghostly green energy can be found. At first appearance, the pieces look like stained glass, but after the first contact turns into a gooey substance. Residents are being told not to worry as the substance is completely harmless but to still take caution. Along with the glass-like substance is a frozen piece of the ground. Even in the sunlight, the spot has shown no difference and is as hard as a rock. Out of the earth is a broken piece of ice. So far, we are unable to tell where the ice has come from, but our best guess is from some kind of ghostly interference. Many residents of the neighborhood have to ask where Phantom was? Was he part of the destruction, or is there a new ghost in town? Find out more tonight at 6 on APC.

I look up from the article to see Sam and Tucker staring at me. I shove more unsalted fries into my mouth. Did you know salt is a natural ghost repellent I, unfortunately, learned that the hard way. Never again. I finish chewing before reassuring them, " Guys, it's fine it was just a typical ghost fight." Tucker starts on his food apparently satisfied with my answer while Sam looks like she is getting ready to argue, but I interject before she gets the chance.

" It was just Skulker, it wasn't anything too bad" the mixture of "too bad" and Skulker grabs Tucker's attention once again. With him too now giving me a critiquing look over. " Are you sure dude? You aren't hurt anywhere are you?" His voice started to become a little bit frantic as he says, "Because Im not going to the hospital. Sorry but that's where I draw the line."

" Okay, but that doesn't explain what's up with the ice spot and glassy thingy," Sam says, bringing us back to the point of the conversation. " Not now," I tell them. I glance around the crowded room before looking back to them, "not here."

They look as if they are preparing to argue as I whisper, " in private." I get a couple of questioning looks as I continue, " Theres' too many people that could overhear" With the promise to talk about it later, our meal went back to everyday small talk and griping about whatever else is bothering us.

Thankfully they let it go. For now, at least.

We finish up our meal and leave the restaurant, then start on down the road. "So," Sam asks, looking in my direction, " where exactly are we going? Your place?" I start to agree but get cut off by Tucker, " We should go to the lot." I give him a questioning glance. He continues his thought, saying, " The picture in the article doesn't show much, and you never know the media could be over-exaggerating again."

"Why not," Sam says with the tone of excitement in her voice, " sounds like fun." I stop walking as I think it over. Before I can say anything, the two of them rush off ahead in the direction of the lot while a feeling of dread overtakes me. "Guys," I call out to them, trying to catch back up, " I don't think this is a good idea." I tell them in a rush, "I will tell you about it when we get to my place. We don't need to go there." Sam narrows her eyes at me before saying, "you're hiding something."

" No, that's not it," I wring my hands in my shirt, unsure of how to proceed. She doesn't let up with her glare at my words. Sam sighs and comes towards me, grabs my arm, and pulls me along with her. I try to pull myself away without hurting her, but I just can't seem to do it. Finally, I become resigned and hesitantly follow without protest.

Didn't they read the same article that I did? It says authorities looked at the lot. They would have had to call ghost experts. Who is to say that they still aren't there? What are we going to say if the Guys In White stuck around? Or even worse, my parents.

When we arrive, the lot is empty, only showing past signs of anyone having been here. The three of us cautiously walk towards the destruction. Next to me, I hear Tucker gasp before saying, "Oh my…" he stops himself before saying anything else. Sam isn't much better putting her hand around my arm in a vice grip.

Before them stands the evidence of one of my fights. In the daylight, the damage looks worse than it did under the moon, making me feel even worse about our actions than I already do. The ground doesn't look so much burned but scorched. As if a fire had burned away its beauty and left a hot steaming pile of muck in its place.

The few trees that line the property have missing limbs that have either splintered or lie on the ground. Shards of ectoplasm are scattered around in the grass, waiting for an unsuspecting human to fall victim to its goo or a ghost to impale its self on its sharp edges. In the middle of it, all is the spikey ice collum surrounded by the frozen frosty ground.

" So they under exaggerated this time," Tucker said, trying to bring humor to the situation, " who would have guessed." I look away from them, ashamed. " It didn't look this bad at night," I say softly, " It didn't" Unable to meet their eyes, I walk forward towards the Ice. Sam and Tucker tell me not to touch anything that I don't know where it comes from As I get near it. I ignore them and put my hand on the side of the spike. Even in human form, I am still unable to feel any of its coldness. It feels just as warm as the air around us, a little moist but not cold.

Sam and Tucker, at some point, walk towards the spike and join me at my side while I inspect the spike. " What does it feel like to you?" I ask. " Dude, it's Ice, it's cold. What else is it supposed to feel like?" I continue to glide my hand over the ice while telling them to humor me. I watch as they put their hands onto the ice, and as soon as they touch it, their hands go flying away from it. They both hold their hand as if something is attacking them. "Danny, how can you touch that!" Sam exclaims, " that stuff is freezing!"

" It feels warm to me," I tell them nonchalantly as if this is an everyday occurrence. " Danny, this isn't normal," Sam says in a worried tone. I don't say anything in response, knowing that this isn't normal for human beings, not at all. Instead, I stare at the ice, trying to figure out how to fix it, when suddenly, an idea comes to my head. I look towards them and hum to catch their attention, "Hey, do you think you can back up for a second? I have something I want to try."

As soon as they are far away enough, I check and double-check that no one is around. Before going forward on my idea, I yell to Tucker, " Tuck, can you check for cameras and stuff first?" He pulls out his PDA and tells me, " No problem with 'Simone' I'll know if anything is there in a jiffy." I wait a second until I hear him give the okay and start my attempt.

My eyes start to glow an icy ethereal blue as I stand before the spike and tap into my ice core. I can feel the cold rushing through me and out to my surroundings. In my presence, the spike starts to repair itself as I let my core come to the surface. In the middle of the spike, I can feel a connection to myself, its ectoplasmic connection to myself. Instead of pushing the ice out, I pull it in, and before my eyes, the ice starts to melt. Instead of shattering like before, it slowly becomes raw energy becoming a blue-white blob.

I gather as much energy as I can from the earth, defrosting it and adding it to the rest of the blob. I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding when all of the ice finished melting. I look around the lot for the scorched places, instinctively knowing what to do. I melt the icy ectoplasmic blob even more into water and send it around to saturate the ruined earth. When the ecto-water hits the ground, the earth lets out a satisfying hiss. The ground looks as if it has partially recovered, making it look like months have gone by instead of only a few hours since the initial conflict. Slowly I let go of my core, letting my eyes go back to their normal human hue. A smile comes to my face at my accomplishment, and I look over at Sam and Tucker. They are both staring at me with huge eyes with different emotions flashing through them: amazement, surprise, and wonder.

I go to take a step towards them when the world starts to spin. I feel myself stumble forward. " Danny!" I hear my name called out in fear and a rushing of feet coming to me. A wave of nausea hits me hard, and I lose my balance falling forward. Luckily Sam is just close enough for me to fall onto. "Danny," I hear my name called out again, " oh my gosh, are you okay?" Feeling too weak to answer, all I can do is groan.

" What are we going to do?" I hear Tucker ask Sam frantically, " we can make it to his place from here, and both of our houses are on the other side of town." The two of them keep coming up with ideas that won't work to get us out of the lot. I try to interject but just moving my mouth causes me pain.

Finally, I manage to groan out a name, "Jazz," but they don't seem to hear me. I try again, a bit louder this time, "Jazz," Sam stops talking, and when Tucker doesn't, I listen to her hit him in the back of the head. "Hey, what was that for" he complains, "Shush, Danny said something." With the raging quiet for the last time, I groan, "Jazz."

A quick vague phone call later and give or take a few minutes, Jazzs' car pulls up, and they give a sigh of relief. I hear a door slam and a worried Jazz making her way over. When she gets to us, I try to look up at her and grab her attention, but I am unable to reach her eyes. " What happened" She interrogated as she crouches down to take hold of me. I feel fatigued and start to lose track of the conversation. The next thing I know, someone has picked me up, and I'm in the car. I feel at ease with the motion of the car as we race home. It doesn't take long for me to close my eyes and fall asleep.

When I come to, I'm staring at the old stick-on stars that are attached to my bedroom ceiling. I cautiously sit up, feeling the strain of an invisible muscle, my core, in my chest. My sister and friends are spread out in the room, passed out exhausted. I glance at the clock next to my bed and read the time 3:18 AM. I try to get up from the bed, but I tumble down onto the floor. The sound wakes up Jazz, making her spring into action, helping me back up. "Hey," she whispers, "don't move too fast. You are still recovering."

I wince a little at the movement. Once she gets me steady, I whisper, "Can you help me get to the bathroom." She nods and carefully helps me to the bathroom. Once everything is situated, Jazz brings me back to my room and helps me onto the bed. I scoot over, making enough room for her to join me, which she quickly accepts.

"They told me what happened at the lot," she says, motioning towards my friends, " What were you thinking trying something like that?" She admonishes. I snuggle into her, getting comfortable before starting my defense, " I was just trying to clean up the mess we make," With a look, I explain further, " Skulker and I fought there last night. It went a little longer than expected. I didn't realize that we made such a mess."

"What about the ice," she inquires. I give half a shrug, " It was unexpected; I don't know how it happened." I tell her truthfully, " I plan to go visit Frostbite this weekend and see if he knows anything." She starts raking her hand through my hair then continues the conversation, " They said you got rid of the ice and fixed part of the ground? They didn't explain it too well. Care to elaborate?"

"It's weird. I just kind of knew how to do it. It was like…." I trail off, not liking the word I need to use. Jazz, unfortunately, knew where to pick up at, "Instinct?" She questions, with my silence being the only acknowledgment she needs. She sighs before saying, "It's okay, you know, to admit it." We lay there for a while before I decide to respond, " I can't." I react in denial, " If I acknowledge it, then it makes it true." Jazz lets out a breathy laugh at that, " So, what if you don't talk about it? It's going to go away?"

" I wish," I mumble, "It's just if I talk about it, then it becomes more real. I can pretend to be normal." She scoffs at my response, " Normal is overrated anyway." I let out a yawn and looked over at the time 4:03 AM. " Can we talk about this later? It's late." She lets out a yawn of her own, having caught mine before saying accusingly, " You just don't want to talk about it." I don't deny her accusation but put some more distance between the two of us and painfully turn over.

What does she want me to tell her? That I feel drawn to go to Ghost Zone? That I like laying around in my ghost form? I can get away with feeling like me under the stars and use insomnia as an excuse, but there is no way to explain anything else. If I told her some of these things, it would just be more of a confirmation of what I already know: I'm a freak.

" Good night, Jazz."

"Good night, little brother."

#dash baxter #danny phantom #danny fenton #phantom #sam manson #tucker foley #jazz fenton #mentions of skulker #skulker

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five-rivers · 3 years

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(1/3) I. Uh. Have an idea for a sequel to the pep talk short? Post-Kamino, Izuku is down on himself because he doesn't feel like a worthy successo to All Might. He's in some public space when a boy (Danny) asks him what's up and Izu (trying to keep ofa secret) says he's upset about how everyone talks about AM like he's dead. Danny (hiding everything about himself including seeing the vestiges) jumps on the topic, talking about everything awesome about him that didn't come from the quirk.

(2/3) (And yes, the vestiges add a lot, especially Nana) But he also manages to work in helping Izu (by talking generally about the emerging generation of young heroes) (Btw, Clockwork warned him about not mentioning his 'quirk' because he's a bad liar and Izu would poke holes in that story in 10 seconds) What Danny wasn't warned about is that Izuku was in that public space because he was waiting to meet up with Toshinori, who heard everything and recognized his friend from middle school.

(3/3) (maybe he confronts him or maybe he's just grateful for whatever kind of divine intervention this is)

Izuku’s hands trembled. Which was. A thing. Had been a thing for a while, now, actually. Since the sports festival.

The fight against Muscular had made it worse.

Not that he regretted saving Kouda or anything! The opposite, really! It was just... He wished he had found some way to do it without shattering his arms. Again.

(Something dark within him whispered, go for his eyes. The only muscles there are in the iris, and clearly they aren’t enough. Take the prosthetic and slam it into-)

(No, he had said back, unwilling to go that far. Unwilling to mutilate another human being to that extent, even a murderer.)

He winced internally, and rubbed his palm with his opposite hand. He wondered if All Might, if Toshinori-san, ever thought like this about All for One.

Probably.

“-Kamino,” said someone passing behind the bench, taking quietly to the person they were walking with. “It’s such a shame.”

“I know. I just can’t believe he’s gone-”

This time, Izuku’s wince was external. Ever since the Kamino Ward incident, he’d been overhearing conversations like that one. More than once, he’d been on the receiving end of a conversation like that one. Especially if he was out in public and in his UA uniform.

Which he wasn’t right now. He was in a low-key All Might brand hoodie. For some reason, he’d been reluctant to wear the more... obvious ones anywhere Toshinori-san could see him. That’d just be weird, right?

A pair of feet come into Izuku’s line of sight, and he looks up, surprised, to see a Caucasian boy standing in front of him. The boy has black hair and blue eyes almost bright enough to rival All Might’s. He is, perhaps, a year or two younger than Izuku.

“Hi,” said the boy, waving. “Are you okay?” he asked in flawless and unaccented Japanese.

“Uh,” said Izuku. “Y-yeah! I’m fine. Why?”

“You looked kind of upset,” said the boy. “Especially when those two girls walked by behind you.” He tilted his head. “Want to talk about it? My sister says that sometimes it helps. She’s studying to be a psychologist.”

“I don’t know...” said Izuku.

“That’s okay,” said the boy, shrugging. He sat down on the bench next to Izuku, a thick stream of mist emerging from his mouth as he did so. He seemed unbothered by this. “We could talk about something else. Distractions are good, too.”

Izuku opened his mouth. Closed it. Frowned. Well, if there was anything he was good at, it was chasing people off.

“Oh,” said the boy. “I can sense quirks. When someone with a quirk gets close to me, my body temperature drops.” He shrugged. “You dropped my body temperature a lot. Your quirk is really strong.”

Izuku hunched his shoulders, too distracted by the last sentence to even start analyzing the boy’s (really cool!) quirk. ‘His’ quirk. If All Might had still had it at Kamino, would things have gone better? Would he still be able to do hero work?

How much had Izuku taken from him?

“I bet a lot of people tell you that, though.”

Izuku startled. Somehow, he’d forgotten the boy was even there.

“It’s like...” The boy trailed off, staring upward. “It’s like, sometimes, people don’t see each other. They only see quirks. Strong quirks, weak quirks, villainous quirks, heroic quirks. No quirk. It’s silly, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” asked Izuku. “Are you saying quirks don’t matter?” The first fourteen years of his life would like to disagree.

“No,” said the boy. “They matter a lot. Saying they didn’t would be like saying money doesn’t matter, or social status doesn’t matter. But they’re not everything. They’re not even the most important thing.” The boy leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his interlocked fingers. “The most important thing is what you do with what you’ve got. If someone has a quirk that can save thousands of lives, but they don’t use it, they can’t say they’re better than someone who has no quirk but saves someone anyway, don’t you think? Even if it’s just one person.”

Izuku was flabbergasted, because that speech was far too tailored to him to random.

“I mean, my sister is quirkless,” continued the boy. “Ha, you probably don’t want to hear about my family, when you’ve got your own things to worry about. Anyway, even if everyone is telling you that you have to use your quirk in one way, or they’re heaping all these expectations on you, all that matters is what you decide to do with it. Or yourself. Like, there’s this one astrophysicist I read about that has this really wild quirk that everybody said meant she had to go into manufacturing, but she didn’t want to, and she had the brains for physics, so-”

Izuku listened to the boy ramble. It was actually kind of soothing. Okay. He needed to dial back his paranoia.

“-does that make sense?” finished the boy.

“Y-yeah,” said Izuku. “But, um. What was bothering me, it wasn’t my quirk.” This would be fine, right? It wasn’t like he’d actually say he was talking about All Might. “It was... I have a friend, and he’s sick, but... Everyone is talking about him like he’s already dead, and he’s not. What they said, it reminded me of that. It’s just... frustrating.”

“Yikes,” said the boy. “I don’t really have any advice for that. It’s hard to change other people’s minds.” The boy sighed, and the sound felt much older than it had any right to be.

“Daniel Fenton?”

Izuku whipped around at the sound of Toshinori-san’s voice. The skeletal man was standing several feet to the right of the bench and had dropped one of the two ice cream cones he had been holding.

“Oops,” said the boy, on the other side of Izuku. “Guess I stayed a bit too long.”

Despite his injuries, Toshinori was at Izuku’s side in an instant, pulling him off the bench and pushing himself between Izuku and the boy. Daniel? Fenton?

The boy had jumped away as well, and was regarding Toshinori-san with something between consternation and amusement.

“Who are you?” demanded All Might. “Why do you look like that?”

“Hey,” said the boy, “that’s kind of rude, don’t you think, Toshinori-kun? You’re the one that said my name.”

“Daniel Fenton is my age,” said All Might, glaring, his hand tightening around Izuku’s wrist. Izuku activated just the barest percentage of One for All, readying himself for a fight. “What are you playing at?”

“Well, if you’re going to be technical about it, I’m way older.” He held up his hands. “I don’t mean any harm. Really. Anyway, as long as I don’t have to beat around the bush, Midoriya-san, One for All didn’t clear this beach. One for All didn’t save Bakugo-san, or Asui-san, or Kouda-kun. One for All certainly didn’t convince this idiot to take care of himself, even a little bit. That was all you.” He pointed at Izuku.

... Were those finger guns? Was this guy seriously throwing finger guns at him?

Scratch that, who was this guy and how did he know so much?!

“Are you working for All for One?” demanded All Might.

“Gross. No. Never even met the guy.”

“Then how do you have two quirk?” asked Izuku. “Longevity, and whatever you did with the mist.”

The boy shrugged, careful to keep his hands half raised and obvious about it. “The guy I actually work for can do time travel. ‘Work for’ is kind of a weird way to put it, though. It’s more like, he’s my mentor? Same sort of set up as you guys have.”

“Time travel?” exclaimed Izuku. He’d never heard of a time travel quirk before.

“I mean, there’s a reason for that,” said the boy, and Izuku blushed as he realized he’d spoken out loud. “And you will. It was really nice talking to you, Midoriya-san! And it was great seeing you again, Toshinori-kun. But I’m going to be picked up any se-”

The boy vanished.

“Um,” said Izuku after several long seconds, “All Might? Who was that?”

“I...” said Toshinori. “You know what? That’s a great question.”

#danny phantom #bnha #ask #answer #prompt #prompt fill

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darks-ink · 5 years

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Disinterred CH.13

Chapter 13: For The Ones Who Need A Hand

“Oh no, sorry my dear. Not the Phantom.” He turned the monitor on his desk around. On the screen was a photo of a ghost which clearly resembled Danny in his ghost form, but that wasn’t him. “I want you to hunt this Phantom.”

(Tumblr hates links and I want this to appear in the tags so… for author notes/full fic summary/links to the other chapters/mirror links to AO3 and FFnet, click here)

In her short life, Dani had seen a lot of crummy alleys. All things considered, the one she was currently in certainly wasn’t one of the worst. The boxes she was hiding behind covered her well, and her glow was dim enough that no bystanders would spot her.

Once she was sure that the coast was clear, she pushed herself out of her hiding place with a groan. She was feeling more and more tired lately, and had noticed herself getting weaker as well.

It was for this reason that she had cut off her explorations of the world. She was trying to get back to Amity Park, to Danny, but she hadn’t quite gotten there yet. The dirty alley she was in only confirmed this.

Elmerton wasn’t Amity Park, but it was close. She only had to get a little further. And then Danny would help her, she was sure of it. He wasn’t like Vlad, he refused to drop her just because she wasn’t useful to him.

She shifted, getting ready to launch herself into the air. A movement caught her eye, and she stilled immediately. She started turning around, trying figure out what she had seen, and if it was a threat.

A pair of glowing green eyes blinked back, wide open.

Dani huffed out a laugh, realizing that she had been spooked by her own reflection. “Whoa, that is one scary ghost.” She shook her head, amused at her own foolishness. But she was quick to focus again.

She pushed herself off of the ground. “I got to get to Danny fast!” Angled herself in the direction of Amity, pushing her speed to its absolute limit.

Her flight was slow and faltering, however, and she was soon drooping in exhaustion. “Or slow. Slow is good.”

Another wave of fatigue hit her, and she dropped back onto the floor. Rather than the sound of her boots softly hitting the concrete, Dani was greeted by a hissing sound.

A sound which was all too familiar to her. One she dreaded, that she had nightmares about.

One she heard more and more often, these days.

She grimaced, looking down to see her feet dissolving into ectoplasm. “I just hope that Danny can help me…”

Dani tried to keep her hopes up, really, she did! But her ‘cousin’ was just a 16 year old half-ghost. She wasn’t sure what, exactly, she was hoping he could do for her that Vlad hadn’t been able to do. Because, sure, her ‘creator’ hadn’t tried to save her. But if he had been able to stabilize clones, he would’ve done so already. She would never have met Danny if Vlad had been able to stabilize her, or any of her brothers.

Scrunching her nose in concentration, she managed to re-stabilize her body. But she knew it wouldn’t last. And as much as she wanted to make haste, it would be better to take it slow.

Walking to Amity Park might take a lot longer, but it would be safer. Especially since she could shift back into her human form, which was a lot less inclined to melt into ectoplasm.

She allowed her transformation to wash over her, turning her back into a perfectly normal human being. A pretty scruffy human being, but not very noteworthy otherwise.

Sticking her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, Dani sunk deeper into the loose fabric. As she left the alley, she softly muttered to herself. “At least Vlad is all the way in Colorado. There’s no way he knows I’m here.”

A vaguely familiar buzzing noise sounded in the back of Valerie’s head. She shoved her schoolwork away by reflex before stopping to consider the situation. She recognized the jingle, even if she hadn’t heard it in a long time.

Last time must’ve been before her suit got upgraded. Because she definitely didn’t remember hearing it like this, whirring in the back of her mind.

Vlad Masters, her employer, was calling for her. He rarely did so, but when he asked her, he usually offered further compensation. Hunt down some random ghost, get better weapons, or sometimes even straight-up money. There was no doubt in her mind about going to his mansion to hear him out.

She swept into the mansion soon enough. Hovered in front of the desk behind which Vlad Masters sat. He quirked an eyebrow at her sudden appearance.

“Well, that certainly was fast.” His eyes trailed over her body, and she felt herself stiffen slightly under his scrutiny. “My, don’t you look fancy.”

“Got a few upgrades,” she acknowledged, allowing herself to relax again. It was okay, he wasn’t being weird. He was just curious about her new suit. Which, she had to admit, no one had ever seen up-close before.

Well, except for Danny. But that didn’t count.

“Well, perhaps you’d be willing to upgrade your life as well.” Vlad leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and weaving his fingers together. “Wouldn’t you like to finally move out of that rundown apartment?”

Well, that was certainly an offer she wouldn’t refuse. She allowed her hoverboard to retract back into the soles of her boots. “Absolutely. What do you need, Mr. Masters?”

“A little bounty hunting,” he purred, obliging.

Of course. He always asked her to hunt down ghosts. She resisted the urge to sigh at his obvious answer, instead imploring for more information. “Of course. What, or who, is the target?”

And now he smiled at her. She stamped down her instinctual shivers, her body telling her not to trust the man in front of her. Her alarm bells were ringing, but… Surely whatever he was going to ask for would be worth the reward?

“Phantom,” Masters finally answered. And, oh. Of course he didn’t know that she had made up with Phantom, with Danny. She couldn’t hunt him, but… maybe she should play along a little further. Find out more about why Masters suddenly wanted her to hunt down Danny, even though he had resided in the town for so long already.

“The Phantom?” she queried, cocking an eyebrow. Then she decided to play it up a little, falling back into her former behavior. “That guy has been an intangible pain in my ass for a long time.”

Masters untangled his hands again, raising them up in a motion clearly meant to pacify her. “Oh no, sorry my dear. Not the Phantom.” He turned the monitor on his desk around.

On the screen was a photo of a ghost which clearly resembled Danny in his ghost form, but that wasn’t him. The ghost depicted was female, and appeared slightly younger than him too. Her jumpsuit was also somewhat different, but it carried the same colors and even the logo.

Her employer had waited for her to finish studying the picture before he continued speaking. “I want you to capture this Phantom.”

Valerie was sure that there was a story behind this picture, and one that Danny could tell her. But she didn’t know it, not yet, and thus didn’t know if this ghost was of any importance to Danny. It was better to accept Vlad’s mission, anyway. If she didn’t, he would likely send different ghost hunters after the ghost girl. This way she could stall him until she knew more about the situation.

She scoffed, incredulously. “You’re kidding, there’s a girl ghost named Phantom as well? These ghosts need to come up with more original names.”

“Yes, well, this Phantom is an incredibly dangerous ghost out to destroy me.” Vlad must think himself a great actor, but Valerie knew better now. She could tell that his fear was faked. She didn’t know why he would send her after this ghost, this doppelganger, but she was sure that it wasn’t good.

On the other hand, she was aided by his clear underestimation of her. He was clearly falling for her act.

“There’s no way I’m letting that ghost girl get you, Mr. Masters.” She shot him a reassuring smile. “She is as good as caught.”

“I knew I could count on you, Valerie,” the man purred, and Valerie barely stifled her grimace. How had she never noticed how slimy he was?

Regardless, she summoned her board and flew off. First and foremost, she had to talk to Danny.

Tracking down Danny was a lot easier these days. She just had to search for Phantom’s ecto-signature and raise the sensitivity of her tracker way up. That way it could pick him up even in human form.

Not that it was necessary, because he was in ghost form. Apparently in the middle of a fight as well, since the tracker picked up a second ghost near him. Valerie turned to his direction and zipped off, hoping to catch him before he left.

She saw him suck up the ghost (an animalistic ghost of some sort) and called to him before he got a chance to leave. “Phantom!”

He stopped, whirling around to greet her. “Hey Val, what’s up?”

She came to a halt right in front of him, glancing down to make sure they were high enough that no one could overhear their conversation. Danny didn’t greet her by name if they weren’t, but better safe than sorry. She was sure that this wouldn’t be a light conversation.

“Hey Danny, I have to talk to you. Do you… know who my benefactor is?”

He frowned at her, but nodded. “Yeah, it’s Vlad, right? Well, not for your current suit, Technus made that. Why?”

She wasn’t sure how he knew, but, well. It wasn’t as surprising as it should’ve been.

“Well, he called me in today. Sometimes he asks me to hunt down specific ghosts in return for a reward, you know? But something was weird about this one. He was lying about why he wanted me to catch her, I know it.”

Danny nodded again. “Yeah, Vlad does that a lot. Can you describe the ghost to me? Maybe I know why he’s after her.”

“Yeah, that’s why I was suspicious of him in the first place.” She kept her tone dry as she spoke. “He asked me to hunt down Phantom, but not you Phantom. He showed me a picture, some female ghost who looks just like you?”

“Dani,” Danny muttered, frown deepening. “Shit. That’s not good.”

Valerie quirked a brow at the unexpected swear. Danny didn’t make a habit out of swearing, and usually only did it in serious situations. “Who is she, then?”

He wavered for a moment, hesitating. Then he sighed. “She’s… my clone.” He clearly sensed her incredulous expression even without seeing it, because he continued his explanation. “Vlad is kind of obsessed with me, with having me as his half-ghost son. I turned him down time after time and eventually he snapped and decided to try and clone me instead.” Danny shrugged. “They were all unstable though. Danielle was the only one who survived, and she left to explore the world.”

“That’s...” Valerie didn’t finish her sentence. She couldn’t think of a word that was strong enough to describe how she felt. She settled on, “messed up. That’s really fucking messed up, Danny.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” he huffed, before combing his fingers through his hair. “Shit. Who knows what Vlad is gonna do to her if he catches her.”

“He’s not gonna catch her,” she reassured, making sure to sound as soothing as she could. “Because he send me to get her. I’ll track her down and bring her to you, no problem.”

Danny blinked at her, stunned. “You’ll do that for me?” And then he snapped back into focus. “Right, okay. I’ll… go talk to my parents about this. If she came to Amity, she’s probably destabilizing.” His voice gradually quietened as he spoke, and Valerie was pretty sure he wasn’t talking to her anymore.

She turned around to fly off, before Danny suddenly spoke again.

“And Valerie?”

When she looked over her shoulder, he shot her a wide grin. “Thanks,” he said, before disappearing. She huffed out a fond laugh in return.

“Yeah, no problem. Dork.”

Danny phased through the door of FentonWorks. He glanced around the living room, but didn’t see his parents. They were probably in the lab, then. Should’ve known, really.

“Mom, dad?” he called out, just to be sure. “I kind of have something I need to talk about!”

He didn’t have to wait long for the thunderous footsteps of his parents as they came out of the lab. His dad was, of course, storming ahead, but his mom wasn’t far behind.

“What’s wrong sweetie? What did you want to talk about?”

Danny grimaced, considering his words. He transformed back to his human form to stall, but it didn’t give him nearly as much time as he needed.

“It’s… Vlad.” More explanation, Fenton, he chided himself. “He’s… kind of my arch enemy? And for a good reason.”

His dad frowned and looked like he was going to defend his old friend, but he faltered when he saw Danny’s expression.

“Danny, I know that the two of you don’t get along, but… there’s something more, isn’t there?” Ah, his mom was so perceptive. Well, sometimes.

He nodded. “Yeah, he’s… like me. He became half-ghost during the accident with the Proto-Portal. It’s a long story and it’s… not really important right now.”

“Oh,” his dad said, looking rather downtrodden. “Then… why did you bring it up?”

“Well...” Danny hissed between his teeth, increasingly uncomfortable with describing Vlad’s misdeeds. “Vlad kind of… has been obsessed with me since he found out that I’m half-ghost. Wants me as his son slash evil apprentice and everything. But I turned him down every time, because… Well, because of a lot of reasons, really.”

He flapped his hands. “Eventually he kind of… snapped, I guess? And decided that if he couldn’t get me to join him, he would just make his own half-ghost son.” Danny licked his lips, uncertain. “So he… Well, he cloned me. Or tried to, at least.”

“Oh, Vladdie,” Jack whispered, hurt clearly audible in his voice. “I can’t- Why would he-”

“Sorry.” And he was, truly. He couldn’t imagine discovering that someone who you considered to be your best friend was… Well, was Vlad, pretty much.

“Don’t be,” his mom comforted him, also laying a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I’m glad you told us, Danny. But…” she trailed off, not finishing her sentence. Danny could guess what she was going to say, though.

“The clones were unstable.” He grimaced at the memory of seeing them melt. “They… Whenever they used too much energy, they would melt into ectoplasm. Vlad kept forcing them to overextend themselves. Only one… Only one survived, she realized that Vlad was using them.”

“’She’?” Maddie asked, before waving her own question off. “Never mind, not relevant right now. What happened to her?”

“Well, she came along with me back to Amity Park. But with Vlad, she had never gotten a chance to explore. To be… free.” He shrugged, a sheepish expression on his face. “She wanted to explore the world. So she left. Dramatically flew off into the sunset, and stuff.”

His mom sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “I guess I can’t blame either of you for it. But if you’re telling us now… I’m guessing that she’s back?”

“Uh, yeah,” Danny admitted. “The, uh, Red Huntress is looking for her now. Apparently Vlad tried to hire her to hunt down Danielle, but he didn’t know that we have a truce now.”

“Well,” Jack tried, his voice wavering a little but regaining some of its usual bluster. “I wouldn’t mind another kid, especially one as wonderful as you, Danny-boy.”

Danny blushed, shoulders creeping up a little in embarrassment. “I… I don’t know if that’s what she’s looking for, dad. I think she might be… I think she might be destabilizing again.”

“And she’s hoping that you know how to help her?” his mom queried, but she was already nodding to herself. “Do you know a way to help her?”

“No.” Danny combed his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “I’ve never had such a thing happen. And if Vlad couldn’t figure it out… I’m not sure what else I could try.”

His dad snapped his fingers, a grin forming on his face. “Maddie, do you remember what me newest project was?”

“Yes...” His mom frowned as she turned to look at Jack. “You were working on a chemical which weakens ghosts, right?”

“Exactly!” Jack nodded, his smile growing wider. “But I just couldn’t get it to work. Every time I tried it on a weak ghost, it would get stronger.”

Hope bloomed in Danny’s chest, and he looked at his dad. “Do you think…?”

The man nodded again in response. “Probably! I’ll go get some Ecto-Dejecto right now, of the strongest batch I have.”

“Thanks Dad!” Danny grinned as his dad ruffled his hair. His mom remained seated, a thoughtful but warm smile on her face. Things were looking up for once.

Danny heard the hum of Valerie’s hoverboard approaching the house and made his way to the backyard. He had hoped that she would’ve taken the less noticeable route and just walked with Dani, but apparently not.

The hoverboard swept into the backyard, Valerie in full armor. Standing behind her, with her arms wrapped around Valerie’s waist, was Danielle. Her clothes were dirty and ragged, and she looked dead tired. The bags under her eyes were worse than his usually were, and that was saying something.

He extended a hand to help her off of the hoverboard, shooting her an encouraging smile. “Hey Dani, long time no see.”

“Yeah,” Dani agreed, voice tinged with exhaustion. She accepted his help and slumped off of the board, almost falling into his arms.

Danny wrapped an arm around her, supporting her weight against his own body. He nodded at Valerie. “Thanks for bringing her Val. I’ll tell you the full story behind Vlad later, okay?”

“You better,” she declared with a nod of her head. And then she was gone again.

Danny quirked a brow at the dramatic display, but then shook his head to clear the thoughts. Valerie might think him overdramatic, but she had quite a penchant for it as well.

“Come on Dani, let’s get you inside. Are you… destabilizing again?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, voice soft and almost impossible to hear. She was sagging against him, barely capable of carrying her own weight.

Danny was glad that she had had the forethought to shift back to human form. He was sure that she would’ve been melting into ectoplasm already if she had been a ghost.

He wrestled himself through the backdoor with Danielle still hanging off of him, and his mom spotted the two of them. She nodded towards the dinner table, a silent command to settle Dani there. Then she raced off down the stairs, going to retrieve his dad from the lab.

Danny had barely gotten Dani situated when his dad came up. She stiffened slightly at the sight of the burly man. Or maybe at the sight of the glowing green vial in his hand.

Really, he couldn’t blame her for either of those reasons. He felt the same way about his dad and potentially dangerous inventions, even if the man had gotten a lot better about it.

He moved to step in, but his mom had appeared from the lab as well and laid a hand on Jack’s arm. Then she shot Dani a warm smile, full of motherly warmth.

“Hey sweetie, you’re Danielle, right?”

Dani nodded a little sluggishly. She was still eyeing Jack with clearly visible wariness.

“Good.” Maddie took the vial from Jack’s hand, holding it out in her open palm to show it to Danielle. “Danny told us you were destabilizing. This should help, but we will have to inject it. Is that okay?”

Dani blinked for a moment before turning to look at Danny. He nodded at her, encouraging. “It’s okay, they know. About me, about you, and… about Vlad.”

“Oh,” she said, a little stunned. Then she shrugged at Maddie. “I guess… that it’s okay.” Then, more quietly, she mumbled, “Don’t have anything to lose anyway.”

His mom made a pained expression but covered it up quickly. Then she produced a syringe from one of the pockets of her belt, making sure to show it to Dani. Maddie uncorked the vial and sucked its contents into the needle. Then she eyed Dani speculatively.

“It might be better if you’re in your… ghost… form.” She held up the filled needle, the Ecto-Dejecto in it still glowing a vibrant green. “We don’t know how it might react to your human physiology.”

The clone scrunched her eyes closed. Familiar rings formed and passed over her, but they were faint. It clearly took great effort on Dani’s part to make it happen.

“Danny, can you hold her arm for me?” his mom asked, and he nodded.

He reached out to Dani, and she offered him an arm. He quickly removed one of the gloves, watching with dread as it melted into ectoplasm the moment it lost contact with her body. Then he carefully rolled up the sleeve of her jumpsuit.

Maddie came closer, crouching next to the chair Dani was seated on. Danny stabilized Dani’s arm. Jack hovered nearby, clearly wanting to help but knowing that there was nothing he could do.

The needle slipped into Dani’s arm with no resistance. Maddie pressed down on the plunger, and the Ecto-Dejecto flowed into the system of Danny’s clone. Its spread could easily be tracked, veins shortly lighting up green as the chemical made its way through Dani’s system.

And then the needle was removed again, and Danny rolled down the sleeve again.

Dani blinked, then blinked again. Then she rubbed her eyes, blinking rapidly.

It was like she was re-energizing before their eyes. The bags under her eyes seemed lighter, her skin seemed healthier. Her aura brightened significantly, although it still fluctuated a little.

“It… worked?” she whispered, looking at her hands as she clenched and unclenched them.

“Of course it did!” Jack boomed, grinning widely. “Only the best for my kids!”

Dani whipped her head around to look at the man, eyes blown wide. “Your kids?” Her voice was quiet still, but Danny couldn’t tell with what emotion.

His mom laid a hand on the shoulder of the girl ghost. “Of course, honey. It might be a little unconventional, but you’re our flesh and blood.” Then she hesitated a little, adding, “If you want, of course.”

“Really?” Dani gasped, looking between all three of them. “Even though I’m… just a clone?”

“You’re not ‘just a clone’ Dani,” Danny chided, frowning. “You’re family. To all of us. And you’re your own person, no matter what Vlad has told you before.”

Both of his parents nodded. Then Maddie spoke up again. “That man is sick, Danielle. He has done bad things. But… none of that is your fault.”

“And I’ve always wanted another daughter,” Jack added with an over-the-top wink.

Dani giggled at him, then nodded. “I would… really like that. Thanks.”

“Of course kiddo! Now, who wants some fudge?” Jack turned to walk to the fridge.

Danny grimaced, then leaned in a little closer to Dani. “Fair warning, there is about a 50% chance that food in this house spontaneously comes to life.”

Dani quirked a brow at him. “For re-”

She never got to finish her sentence, as loud growls suddenly came from the open fridge. Green hot dogs with teeth burst out of the appliance.

“Oh,” she ended up saying, stunned. “I guess I see your point.”

#danny phantom #dp fanfic #phanfic #phanfiction #dp fanfiction #danny fenton #valerie gray #dani fenton #dani phantom #dark writes #disinterred #dani deserves good things and i'll give them to her goshdarnit #the title for next week's chapter is real good btw so i'll post it as a teaser:#I'm Done Being Your Slave

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ladylynse · 7 years

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Master list of my tumblr writings under the cut. Fandoms you can find:

American Dragon: Jake Long Avatar: The Last Airbender Danny Phantom Daredevil Gravity Falls Harry Potter Miraculous Ladybug Merlin My Hero Academia The Owl House Percy Jackson Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja Rise of the Guardians Voltron: Legendary Defender Crossovers (Secret Quartet, SuperPhantom, Phantom Falls, GFxOtGW, DPxDTMG, OtGW/Trollhunters/GF/DP, SPN/DP/RC9GN, MLxRatatouille, DPxML, Firefly/TAZ Balance, TDiR/TAZ Balance) Original Fic

Alternatively, check out my three sentence fics, random WIP scenes and snippets, or fic ideas, and take a peek at the fanart and fanfic I’ve been gifted.

And remember: you can always find me on FFnet and the AO3!

If you like my work, please consider buying me a coffee. (I write thank you snippets!)

American Dragon: Jake Long

Rotwood’s Paradox (Part 2): [FF | AO3] Rotwood isn’t supposed to be the one doing the saving. If anything, that's a dragon’s job. Unfortunately, Mr. Long is the one who needs saving.

Avatar: The Last Airbender:

Atonement (Part 2): [FF | AO3] Role reversal AU. Sokka wants to make up for his past actions, to join the Gaang, and Azula is having none of it.

Danny Phantom:

Anomaly: [FF | AO3] Jazz has noticed that something’s off with Danny, so she finally confronts him. (Ectober Week 2018, Days 26 and 28)

Being Watched (Part II): [FF | AO3] Mr. Lancer hadn’t really meant to see what he did, or to eavesdrop for as long as he did, but now that he had…. He couldn’t exactly deny what he knew. (Lancer reveal request) Note that this is crossposted as Hobson’s Choice, credit to @fantasticwhovian for the title

Compromised: [FF | AO3] Harriet Cane is trying to get something on Vladimir Masters—photos, dirt, anything—but she’s getting nowhere…until she overhears a private conversation and discovers far more than she bargained for. (Phic Phight 2019) (potential continuation)

Dani’s Return: Ordinarily, Danny would have been delighted to see his ‘cousin’. But not when she turns up on his doorstep barely conscious. And not when his mom is home to see her.

The Deal with Poindexter: Poindexter hadn’t meant it, but that didn’t change what had happened, and it didn’t free Danny now.

Devoured: [FF | AO3] AU. Vlad died in the proto-portal incident, but Jack and Maddie still think they see him, still feel his judgement, still face his wrath. (Death, gore, fire, mental instability) Domesticated [FF | AO3]: Maddie the cat doesn't need to understand everything about her human to care about him. (Phic Phight 2019)

Explorations: [FF | AO3] The invitation to join the quest—or hunt or whatever—in the Ghost Zone was only the start of it, but with Sam and Tucker by his side, Danny figured everything would be fine—especially when the ghosts were obligated to play nice. Of course, that doesn’t mean that the Ghost Zone itself is harmless….

Finality [FF | AO3]: Danny can't do it anymore. He can't pretend that everything is normal, not anymore, not after what happened. (DP Angst Day 2019, originally this ask)

Florescence: [FF | AO3] Danny keeps insisting that it's just a cold. That it's just a sunburn. Except it isn't, and he's getting worse. (Phic Phight 2019)

Helpless (Ectober 2018 Day 13: Help): [FF | AO3] Star hates feeling helpless, but without weapons, she can’t do anything in a ghost attack. Strangely, Danny Fenton doesn’t seem to feel the same way. (Continued for Day 15 | Day 19 | Day 26 | Day 31 | and March 19, 2020)

Implications: [FF | AO3] Jack doesn’t intend to be fooled again, especially by blatant ghost trickery, and it’s high time this ghost learned not to underestimate him.

Influence: Dani is so close to being free, but Vlad’s influence runs deep. (Based off this drawing by @dannyphandump made for Ectober 2018 Day 27)

The Masters Plan: Duffel bags, in Vlad’s opinion, can be terribly useful.

Missing: [FF | AO3] You never know what you have until it’s gone. That’s what they always say. But Danny had never imagined that phrase might apply to his sister.

Oddities: [FF | AO3] Jack can't deny that their ghost hunting equipment malfunctions around Danny-exclusively around Danny, consistently around Danny--and decides to get to the bottom of it, once and for all. (Phic Phight 2019)

Passageway (Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6/Part 7/Part 8/Part 9/Part 10 [cont off tumblr]): [FF | AO3] The Fenton Ghost Portal in the basement lab is empty, broken. Instead, the portal is inside Danny--and even when he knows something's coming, he can’t stop it. (Danny as the ghost portal AU)

Perception: [FF| AO3] Valerie always took seeing colour for granted—until the day it went away. Soulmate AU (colours), Gray Ghost

Perplexities: [FFN | AO3] (Ectober 2021, Day 17: Found Footage) The video, upon review, did not show what Kwan had been expecting. At all. (Continued with Favour | Sweet Dreams/Nightmare/Echo/Insomnia)

Phantasmagoria: [FFN | AO3] At first blush, the new year seemed like it would start off normally enough, but Danny should really know better than to expect normal by now. Still, this was not what people usually meant when they talked about a new year yielding infinite possibilities.

Phantom’s Capture: Jazz was too late to stop it, but she had to try.

Protocol (Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6/Part 7 [cont off tumblr]): [FF | AO3] Jazz doesn’t want to take the shot, even at the risk of exposing her cover. (Dystopian AU where the GiW are competent and seize control of the government, using fear to turn the general populace against the ghosts they unleashed.)

Resolution: [FF | AO3] Danny’s wary of seeing the Ghost Writer again, but it’s almost Christmas, and his apology will mean more if it comes before the safety of the Christmas Truce. (Christmas Truce 2018)

Revision (Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6/Part 7/Part 8/Part 9/Part 10/Part 11/ Part 12/Part 13 [continued off tumblr]: [FF | AO3] Maddie can’t deny it any longer. If ectoplasm can become blood, there’s more to this story than she ever realized. (Optional sequel to Shift.)

Shift: [FF | AO3] Maddie’s capture of the phantom was routine--until she saw the shift in colour that meant it suddenly, horribly, wasn’t. (DP Angst Day 2017) (Optional sequel)

Snapshots (Part II): [FF | AO3] Phantom never changed, even though everything–everyone–else did. Even Dani. Especially Dani. Danny didn’t realize what that meant until later. AU

The Trouble with Ghosts (Prologue/final chapter 18/18): [FF | AO3] Lancer hadn’t realized how closely young Mr. Fenton’s school troubles–and the secrets he surely wasn’t telling his parents–were tied to ghosts until after that encounter with Phantom. (Lancer-centric multi-part)

Together: [FF | AO3] “We’ll always be together,” Maddie had promised, but then there was the accident, and they weren’t. Until she came back. (Phic Phight 2019) (character death) (amazing fanart)

Turning Point: [FF | AO3] Valerie finally hits Phantom with one of her new weapons—but the result wasn’t quite what she’d expected. (DP Angst Day 2018) (awesome fanart inspired by the fic)

Vantage Point: [FF | AO3] Phantom was young. Painfully young. Somehow, Lancer had never really noticed that before. (Phic Phight 2019)

Reflections bonus scene: In which Spectra’s reason for wanting the Fenton Xtractor is finally explained.

Christmas Truce ficlet wherein I attempt to fill in the blanks of the cute reveal comic I got as part of the 2018 exchange.

“It’s National Believe in a Ghost Day” - a post I hijacked from taliaxlatia, adding onto her quote with a little ficlet

Creepy!Danny AU (ish) - in which Wes can’t understand why no one else sees it (now expanded and crossposted on the AO3 and on FFN)

Start of a post-dissection fic in which Danny remains but Phantom is gone (so far)

Snippet in which Maddie confronts Phantom in the basement lab.

Snippet in which Star talks to Valerie about secrets--namely, Valerie’s.

Daredevil:

The Devil: A short series of three sentence fics regarding outsider POVs of Daredevil that build a larger story.

Observations: There has to be some irony in the fact that Brett Mahoney is accusing Matt Murdock of working with Daredevil.

Gravity Falls:

Finding Purchase: There’s a power in words, just as there is in belief…and in doubt.

Harry Potter:

Dreams: [FF | AO3] Somehow, Hermione found herself dealing with a stubborn muggle-born who had been told that an astronaut is not exactly an ideal wizarding profession.

Miraculous Ladybug:

April in Paris: Adrien’s deep, dark secret isn’t much of a secret any longer, but he’s not sure it ever really was. (future fic fluff)

Broken: [FF | AO3] Chat Noir and Ladybug fought Hawk Moth and won, but now they must live with the consequences. (angst, character death) (also: debating doing this to explore other outcomes) Note: multi-chaptered fic on FF/AO3 but only the first chapter/one-shot posted here

The Cemetery: Ten years after Hawk Moth’s defeat, Adrien is happily married to Marinette–to Ladybug–but even after all this time, it’s still…hard…to visit the cemetery. (also: debating doing this which would show some of what happens before this point)

Comfort: [FF | AO3] After an akuma attack that hits a little too close to home, Nino and Alya find themselves comforting each other. (DJWiFi December 2018 Day 30)

Guidance: [FF | AO3] André wants the best for his daughter, wants to give her the world, but when he can’t fix everything and make it right for her, the best he can do is try to nudge her along the right path.

Happy Father’s Day: Everything’s going to change. (Adrinette fluff) Midnight in Paris: [FF | AO3] Marinette realizes what Chat Noir means to her, and she’s determined not to lose him, even if it means revealing herself. (angsty MariChat)

Mockingbird: a teaser for what will become the sequel to Masks

The Proposal: [FF | AO3] Nino had never thought Chat Noir might turn up in his room. Ever. He just didn’t know the hero that well. So why would Chat Noir come to him with something like this? (DJWiFi, LadyNoir)

Sacrifice (Part II): [FF | AO3] Sometimes, a bad plan is the only one you have–but for Marinette, it’s better than the alternative. (Written for MariChat May 2018)

Smile: [FF | AO3] Sometimes, it’s hard to believe the truth. (Juleka-centric)

Tell the Truth: [FF | AO3] Alya confronts Adrien, trying to convince him to confess his big secret–because what’s the harm, especially when she’s already figured it out?

The Ventriloquist: [FF | AO3] Adrien is given an ultimatum: betray his partner or see her destroyed.

The Video: Really, Alya can’t be expected to deny the evidence right in front of her.

Masks - alternate scenes

Merlin:

Accusations: [FF | AO3] Accused of sorcery, Merlin is imprisoned on Uther’s orders. Of course, no one else (especially Arthur) seems to think he deserves that.

The Attack: The knowledge that King Arthur has the powerful sorcerer Emrys on his side isn’t always enough to deter those determined to attack.

----

In which magic is needed to evade a situation, and Merlin can’t really get out of showing his hand.

My Hero Academia/Boku No Hero Academia:

Discovered: [FF | AO3] They all know, and Midoriya can’t change that, but…. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if one more person found out, too.

R&R: Class 1A finally gets a chance for some rest and relaxation. When Midoriya wanders off to look at the stars, Uraraka joins him. (IzuOcha, fluff)

The Owl House:

Snippet in which Luz comforts Hunter (post S2)

Percy Jackson:

Questions: Son of Zeus!Percy AU. Post-The Lightning Thief. Percy isn’t impressed with his father, and after everything, he feels like he has more questions than answers.

Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja: Aftermath: [FF | AO3] Randy didn’t really think the NinjaNomicon would mind wipe him now that he’d defeated the Sorcerer—well, he’d hoped not—but he definitely didn’t expect what he got once he finally opened it again.

Anonymity: [FF | AO3] Anonymity is so passé. I know who you are. Really, what was Randy supposed to think when Debbie texted him that?

Captive: [FF | AO3] Not every prison has four walls–but it would’ve been easier for Randy to escape if this one did. Debbie’s Pronouncement (Part II): [FF | AO3] When Debbie drags Randy into her newspaper office for questioning, things go about as well as can be expected.

Downfall: [FF | AO3] It was all happening so fast. Theresa didn’t want to leave Randy, didn’t know if it was already too late, but how was she supposed to find him now? This time, even the Ninja seemed to have his hands full. (AU or post-S2)

Revealed: [FF | AO3] This time, Randy doesn’t know how he can keep his secret. This time, he’s unmasked in front of everyone.

Roots: [FF | AO3] The Sorcerer is gone, but he left some roots behind. At least, that might be what First Ninja is trying to say. Randy’s really not sure.

Selfie: Randy hadn’t expected this to become a trend.

---

Random scene, somewhat reminiscent of Captive

Snippet in which the Ninja is found by Debbie and Theresa

Fic in which Viceroy learns of his father’s death.

Rise of the Guardians:

Family: [FF | AO3] Jack had thought, now that he was one of the Guardians, that he wouldn't be spending Christmas alone. But Christmas is more than just a day.

Voltron: Legendary Defender:

Endurance: [FF | AO3] It was proving to be a long journey back to Earth, and Keith had to be sure everyone on the team was ready for whatever happens. Pidge really didn’t think she needed to be singled out, though.

Crossovers

Non-fandom fiction:

The Book Burning

#fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #snippets writing master list #I'll update this as I go #reblogs are welcomed but not reposts please #tell me if these links stop working #masterpost #crossovers now split off because the links died #fic masterpost

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redditnosleep · 7 years

Text

The Suicide Orphan

by Cymoril_Melnibone

I’ve long been fascinated by internet horror stories and creepypastas. I was young and impressionable when I stumbled across my first; Jvk1166z.esp, a story about a video game mod that went eerily wrong. That tumbled me down a dark and narrow rabbit hole into The Russian Sleep Experiment, then further lost me in the cryptid wonderland where all those other internet classics live. No matter how unsettling the story, I really wanted to believe it. At first, I wanted every single detail to be true. Later, I came to most relish the tales that seemed to contain one or two real ingredients, liberally seasoned to please the palates of the audience. And there was a growing envy that rode along with my fascination; I wanted to wield the spices, to be just like those infamous writers. I wanted to create a viral sensation that would sweep across the internet and make people’s spines tingle and burn with genuine, inescapable fear. The kind that really makes you feel alive. But first, I needed to find the raw, true heart for my recipe. I began to pore over old newspaper articles, looking for weird things in my area. I sifted through mountains of garbage online, looking for a tasty kernel of truth hidden within the bland layers of unappetising urban myths. But inspiration eluded me, and I started to lose interest. As adulthood took hold, it slowly began to strangle my childish ability to believe there was some wild truth running around out there, despite never finding any footprints. I was almost ready to admit that perhaps the world was far more mundane and uninteresting than I’d ever imagined – and that every one of my treasured stories were in fact just marvellous fictions, all pretty frosting and no cake. Then, like a horrible gift dropped right into my lap, I chanced to overhear two nurses at the local hospital talking in hushed whispers about the mystery of The Suicide Orphan. How could I not do everything in my power to find out more?

I’ll spare you all the dusty details about how I came by the information I have. Most of it was uncovered by boring hard work; ordinary journalism and archive delving. And I’m not proud; when that fails, I’ve found that there’s very little information you can’t dig up if you use some natural and enhanced advantages. In my case, honey-blonde hair, a splash of bright lipstick and a short skirt. The real story begins in the 1970s, when a young couple, Danny and Susan Johnson, prematurely birthed their second child. They named her Catherine. The baby grew quickly and was soon healthy enough to come home, where she was doted on by her elder sister and her parents. She was bright and happy, apparently escaping any disadvantages of her prematurity; she began to speak at 18 months, and started to read by the age of four. The first tragedy struck the family when Catherine was in kindergarten. The elder sister, Sarah, was found hanging in her wardrobe, a pink plastic skipping-rope looped about her neck. Emergency services were called, but the nine-year-old girl was not able to be resuscitated. As you would expect, the family was devastated. They cooperated with the police and the coroner, and endured a protracted and gruelling investigation into every aspect of their lives. No evidence of foul play was ever uncovered, and the ruling on Sarah’s death was left inconclusive. Either it was accidental, or it was a rare child suicide. Everything slid rapidly and predictably downhill for the Johnsons from there, with the mother falling into black depression frighteningly fast, and the father drowning his own pain in a bottle. The date on the second ambulance report is barely six months after the one on the invoice for Sarah’s headstone. Susan Johnson was found in the family garage, her asphyxiated corpse as pink as a child’s skipping rope, a side-effect of carbon monoxide inhalation. The car was still idling, with a hose from the exhaust pipe pushed through a crack in the window. The grim trifecta of paperwork is complete two months later, when Danny Johnson successfully hanged himself in the very same garage, a sawhorse kicked out from underneath him, and his wife’s perfume heavy in the air. With no other living relatives able to be traced, Catherine Johnson became a suicide orphan.

The Walders were her first foster family. They were experienced in caring for children from difficult circumstances, loved her to pieces, and did everything they could to heal the poor girl. Only five, she barely understood what had happened and why, so she adapted quickly. I found one of her first school reports, buried amongst random papers in a forgotten box beneath the Walder’s house. It paints a bright picture of an exceptionally gregarious child, a little girl who made friends easily and was radiant in her happiness. All seemed to be going very well for Catherine and her new parents. She’s all dimpled smiles in the photograph of her cuddling the kitten she received on her seventh birthday, and certificates and trophies suggest that she was something of an athletic prodigy, outrunning every other girl in her district. There was not a single warning sign that anything was wrong for Jenny Walder, the foster mother. According to the archived reports, she had appeared completely normal, right up to the day she was found in her bathtub, the life seeped out of her into the deep crimson water. There were no hesitation marks surrounding the long, definite cuts in her wrists from where she had opened her veins. The foster father, Michael Walders, survived his wife for another nine months before he succumbed to catatonic depression and was taken to a mental health facility. He didn’t move nor speak for the next six weeks, so none of the staff appear to be sure how he got onto the roof. The leap from the fifth floor shattered his skull into nine separate fragments, and his life ended in a concrete parking lot. Catherine was left utterly alone for the second time in her short life. She was put into state care while another family was sought to take care of her.

Now, this is the point where the rumours really start. The pool of prospective foster families was much smaller thirty-odd years ago, and it was becoming difficult to keep her history from the community. People back then were superstitious enough to be very leery of a child with so much death in her past. Families long noted as being eager for a child, any child, abruptly change their tune when it is revealed that the child being considered is Catherine, the suicide orphan. People were beginning to speculate, very quietly, that Catherine herself was to blame for the five deaths. I like to think that there were others who shushed them and told them not to be so crude and cruel. A pair of childless atheists, Melissa and Tony Lipsey, finally accepted the girl into their care and instantly fell in love with her. Melissa was an aspiring writer, who kept long, detailed journals of her life and experiences. After some convincing, her family let me read a few of the ones concerning Catherine. Their existence seemed idyllic, with no great calamities afflicting them, only the very ordinary hardships of family life. Psychological support was provided for the couple and the child from the day Catherine entered their home, and appears to have been quite careful and thorough for the time. Right up until the point of her suicide, Melissa’s diary spoke of love and hope and great plans for their new daughter when she grew up. Indeed, Catherine was excelling in every aspect of school life, and had even been moved up a year. The final entry in the notebook is uncharacteristically short, and contains one curious sentence about feeling ‘empty’. For no reason that anyone could fathom, on that date Melissa and Tony Lipsey drove their car to the river, then walked into the water, fully clothed and hand-in-hand, and drowned together. It was ruled an accident, but anyone who knew about Catherine knew that was a lie.

Nobody wanted to adopt her after that. Ten years old, she languished in a state orphanage, other children coming and going. She seems to have made the best of it; her tattered, photocopied file repeats the same phrases as reports from her early life; she was a child who smiled easily and often, was loved by the other children, and she never caused any trouble. She educated herself, borrowing great piles of books from the local library, clearly reading well beyond her age, and engaged the facility’s staff in thoughtful and philosophical conversations about her plight. Anyone close to her appeared to like her, yet heartbreakingly, she seemed to understand exactly why nobody wanted her. The first staff suicide – that of Catherine’s primary caregiver – sparked a panic, and half of the orphanage workers refused to come to work the following day. Children were quickly shifted to other facilities in nearby cities, and the place was temporarily shut down. Catherine knew precisely what was going on and asked several times to ‘just be let go’. She said she didn’t want to trouble anyone anymore, that she would find a place in the woods and live on her own. She was interviewed and re-interviewed by law enforcement and by psychiatrists from her temporary, solitary room in a juvenile holding facility, until no-one had any questions left to ask. The conclusion was rational, and completely sensible. It was not this child, but the mythos following this child, that was the cause of the suicides. Catherine should be provided with a new identity and placed anonymously in another home on the other side of the country, and then the suicides would stop. Unfortunately, this conclusion was also completely wrong.

Tracking Catherine became difficult at this point. I eventually managed to find her again when a fellow student, her school teacher, and her new foster parents all killed themselves within a few months of each other. She was fourteen, and must have been very much aware what that meant. When she was taken into custody, she fought like a demon and required two male police officers to restrain her. There is a curious note in that police report, stating that those officers ‘received injuries’ but Catherine’s later medical examination showed no injury at all to herself, not even a bruise. She was placed into inpatient psychiatric care. The breezy, bright child with the easy smile does not appear in any more of the reports I was able to obtain; she was gone. The teenage Catherine is clearly deeply disturbed, and any trace of her personality was probably medicated away. The range of psychotropic drugs they managed to dose her with is extensive, despite some odd notes in her charts from this time. Initial attempts to administer heavy-duty sedatives by injection are simply recorded as ‘unsuccessful’, and followed by a recommendation for ‘oral medication only’. But pills must have been enough; with ‘the suicide orphan’ locked away in a psych ward and a chemical straightjacket, anyone would assume that was an end to the bleak trail of death that Catherine Johnson left wherever she went. And with a high turnover of overworked staff, there wasn’t much risk of anyone getting attached to the young woman. Some of the inmates in her facility were found hanged or dead from self-mutilation, but, well, it was a place for crazy people – that sort of stuff happened all the time. No more connections appear to have been made. But on August 3rd, 1991, two staff members deliberately overdosed on patient medications and several inmates escaped using the keys of the deceased. Amongst those that escaped was Catherine Johnson.

She was smart, once the drugs left her system. Much smarter than the others, who were all caught in a matter of days. I think Catherine probably cut and dyed her hair and hitch-hiked as far as she could get, as there are no sightings of her despite bulletins and flyers. The trail of documents was cold for a long time, and I expanded my search wider and wider, hoping to find the lost thread of her existence. And I had one grisly card up my sleeve; even someone as smart and resourceful as she was couldn’t do anything about the one thing that made her trackable: everywhere she went, people killed themselves. Unfortunately, suicide is more common than you might first think, so the background noise is extensive. People kill themselves every other day, for all kinds of reasons. A seemingly happy father of three will take a shotgun into the shower and blow his brains out, even though he was recently promoted at work, and his life seems perfect. After reading far too many of those stories, I did eventually find her carrion footsteps. Leading out west, a neat line of unexplained suicides which pointed to the forested mountain wilderness – the common factor that drew my attention was that each of the deceased owned some sort of supply or convenience shop. I contacted the library near Catherine’s teenage orphanage, posing as a family member to access her library records. My suspicions were confirmed; since she was ten years old, she had been researching outdoor survival and how to live self-sufficiently in the wilderness.

I’m really not much of an outdoors person, but the heady prospect of finding the mythical Suicide Orphan was too much for me. I probably overstocked on supplies and safety gear, but I didn’t want to be caught short in poor weather. With an expensive GPS machine and enough food for a month, I started searching the mountains for Catherine Johnson. I suspected I was on the right track when I started finding increasing numbers of dead animals. Although that’s not unusual in the wilderness, the corpses became very regular, mostly intact, and quite fresh. Birds had seemingly fallen from the sky mid-flight, as though their tiny hearts had simply given up. Further on, dead rats and larger mammals marked a sort of grisly perimeter around Catherine’s isolated bolthole. The first sign was terrible and stark, a white board nailed to a tree and splashed with faded red paint. “STAY AWAY OR ELSE” it read, like the warning on a child’s treehouse. There were more signs as I pushed through the scrub, bearing similar imprecations. Each of them threatened some kind of violence, without being specific. Eventually I saw a crude hut through the trees, and painted on the door in that same naïve hand were the words “COME INSIDE AND YOU WILL DIE”. I knew what was going on here. Catherine blamed herself for the deaths of everyone around her; she had done so since she was very young, and she didn’t want it to happen again. By isolating herself in the wilderness, she believed that she could avoid bringing any more death to other people. And if she didn’t have anyone who cared about her, she couldn’t lose anyone she cared about. I had walked in Catherine’s appallingly sad footsteps for so long, that at this point I really did care about her. And I was no longer thinking about what that meant. Perhaps, having spent my whole life looking for that kernel of truth, when I found it, I didn’t want to believe it. “I’m coming in,” I declared loudly as I pushed open the door.

She sat by the stone fireplace, a small figure lost in a chair made of carefully woven branches. Dark hair was piled up on top of her head, tied in place with a frayed scarf. Inside, the hut was tidy and clean, meticulous care evident in the orderliness of the piles of split logs and the fur-covered furniture. She seemed to know immediately that I wasn’t there by accident; that I was not some lost hiker or hunter who had stumbled into her hideaway despite the warning trail of animal corpses and signs. “I should have moved,” she said without preamble, turning her gaze towards me. Her face was too youthful, she looked like a twenty-year-old. “I should have stuck to my plan and moved to another place in the wilds, to stop people like you finding me.” “Well, I’m glad I did find you,” I replied weakly, unable to stop staring at her. I felt strangely uneasy at how young she looked. She was almost twice my age, yet somehow it felt quite the reverse. “You won’t be,” she said simply, with a small and solemn shake of her head. There was a tense, pregnant pause, then she glanced at the iron kettle hung over the fireplace. “Would you like some tea? It’s mostly mountain herbs, but it’s hot.” Not knowing what else to say, I simply nodded. The tiny hut should have been cosy, yet I was cold. “Tell me how you found me.” And so I told her the same tale I’m telling you now. I laid out all my clever discoveries from end to end as she poured tea into fired clay cups, the sharp scents of mint and pine suffusing the air. She was silent while the account unfolded, but would sometimes nod, confirming a snippet of information when I sounded uncertain. At other revelations, she bowed her head and averted her eyes as though ashamed – but she never interrupted. When I was empty of words, she finally spoke. “So. You wanted fame. That’s why you sought me out? You wanted to tell my story to the world and become a sort of television celebrity.” Her voice was layered heavy with undisguised contempt, and I felt the colour rise in my cheeks. “I guess so,” I mumbled. My stomach twisted, hollow, despite the tea. “Well, now you have your story. You found your Suicide Orphan, and everything about her is true. Wherever I go, death follows.” It was my turn to be silent for a long moment; what could I say to that? But I needed to ask. I needed to be sure about one more thing. “I have a question,” I said finally, my voice dull in my ears. She shifted in her chair, placing one hand on the rough-hewn table. “You want to know why I never killed myself,” she stated flatly. “Yes.” A knife hung from her belt in a leather sheath, and with a well-practised movement, she pulled it free – stabbing it cleanly through the hand resting on the rough wood between us. I shrieked in alarm, and reflexively jerked away, the wicker chair nearly tipping me onto the floor. As quickly as she had drawn the blade, she yanked it free; leaving a deep cut that glimmered white tendon, then welled dark with blood. She raised her wounded hand in the air, and I watched, disbelieving, as the vicious rent in her flesh knitted immediately, like some kind of claymation. It left not even a whisper of a scar betraying where it had been. “Poison doesn’t work, either,” she said, calmly wiping the knife clean on her sleeve, “even deadly nightshade only gives me a tummy ache. I tried a pistol once, but the bullet bounced right off my skull and made a mess of my crockery.” The knife was rehomed in the scabbard and she gave me a wan smile, “I’d bury myself alive, but I’m too frightened of spending an eternity screaming into the lightless dirt.” Another long silence followed as we sipped our cooling tea. I drained my cup and stared at the dregs of grey leaves, their green all boiled away. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?” I asked. It wasn’t really a question. “Of course you are. What other possible outcome did you think there could be? Did you really think just because you were the one to find me, you’d somehow be immune? That caring about the truth would save you? That’s not how real life works, I’m afraid.” I swallowed, fear swelling like an ugly bubble inside me. “How does it happen?” “It will start as an ineffable feeling of loss, like you’ve misplaced something important. The emptiness grows inside your breast, then invades your head until it gnaws at all your thoughts, tainting everything good with poisonous doubt. Eventually the yawning nothingness within will be so complete that you’ll have naught left to live for, and you’ll end your life.” “So there’s nothing I can do.” She leaned forward and grasped my head in her strong, dirt-rimed hands. “You can do exactly what you were going to do all along, but not for yourself. Tell your story. Write out your little electronic letter and send your ‘creepypasta’ all around the world. Tell people that this horror is true – I am real, and that if anyone comes near me, they will die.” She let me go, the intensity fading from her eyes. “Now leave me. I can’t stand seeing yet another human being die because of me.”

And so I guess I got my wish. I hope you enjoyed my little story, because it’s the last one I’ll ever tell. I can already feel that void inside me, widening, growing, feeding. It’s grey and it’s cold and it’s deeper than space. I’ve tried as much as I can to stop it – therapy, medication, immersing myself in dizzyingly happy music and distracting myself with books and films – but everything seems so hollow, so trite, and so utterly pointless now. Nothing feels real any more. I’m not exactly sure how I’ll do it, but I think that somewhere in my old things from my childhood, there might be a pink plastic skipping rope.

Yes, that seems real. That feels right and true.

#author: Cymoril_Melnibone #creepy #horror story #trigger warning

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