#tumblroneshot

[kinglazrus]

What Comes After, Ch. 1

Written for Ecto-implosion 2023! Inspired by the amazing art of @ghozteevee, which you can check out here!

Masterpost | AO3 | Next

WC: 5016

The binding of the threads

There is something waiting to meet you, but it can wait a while longer.

—✧✦✧—

There is a hand attached to an arm attached to a body. It stretches up, fingers splayed into the darkness, forming a skeletal silhouette against the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, straining against the limits of blood and bone. Limits that exist only in the mind encased in the skull wrapped in the flesh of the thing. But flesh is not the right word. It is not flesh, which is soft and fatty and alive; it is skin, thin and pale as paper, stretched over jutting bones.

Sometimes, when the hand turns like so, the star’s glow seeps into the matrix of jagged veins branching out across its palm. There is no blood in these veins, only light, which creeps from the hand to the arm to the body to the heart of the thing.

The hand drifts, turning its scarred palm toward the window, where a spider is hard at work. The web has yet to take proper form. Currently, a single thread stretches from the top left corner of the window down to the bottom right. The spider dangles from it, lowering itself to the sill as it weaves the second strand. Its squat, brown body is illuminated by the rising sun.

Does it see itself reflected in the window with its many eyes? If so, does it recognize itself? Does it, too, sometimes forget what it is? Perhaps. But it doesn’t need to know what a spider is to be a spider. All it needs is to weave its web and feast on any unfortunate creatures that find themselves trapped there.

Wind buffets the spider, making it sway back and forth. Its legs tremble as it reaches out, but the window is too far, and the breeze keeps pushing the spider away.

The hand reaches, and the body follows, tumbling out of the warmth of its bed. Paint flakes away under the bony fingers as they dig into the windowpane and lift. A mouth attached to a throat attached to empty lungs falls open and breathes in the brisk morning air.

The breeze flows into the room, pulling the spider in. It finds purchase, finally, on the hand attached to the thing.

The thing blinks. It stares at the jagged curve of its fingers digging into the window pane, whose wood has cracked and splintered. When it pulls away, slivers drag out of its fingertips. It barely even stings, but it’s still something for the thing to feel. It breathes again, filling its aching lungs.

The spider waits patiently for the hand to lower it to the sill. Its legs twitch, almost like it’s waving, and it goes back to its web.

—✧✦✧—

The alarm that drags Danny into awareness is not his own. It isn’t loud enough to startle, but the steady ringing digs into his mind and hauls him back into his body. He blinks, not out of any real necessity, but because he’s made a habit of reminding himself to do it, particularly when he’s at home.

According to his phone, which lies on the nightstand next to his bed, it’s just after six in the morning.

Danny groans and tips his head back, pressing his hands against his eyes. Sunday morning, his last chance to sleep in on the weekend, and he’s awake at 6 a.m. The sun hasn’t even fully risen yet, although it’s well on its way. The sky is growing lighter, and it looks like it’s going to be a clear, warm day. Which is sickening, since it’s almost October.

He could go back to bed, but who is he kidding? He wasn’t sleeping, anyway. Might as well see what all the noise is about.

The lab door is already open when he gets down to the first floor, and his parents’ voices float through it. As Danny descends into the basement, he catches the tail end of their conversation.

“I don’t know what could cause this,” his mom says, in a way that is not at all foreboding.

“Most of these are pretty scattered, but look at these two,” his dad answers.

His mom hums. “That’s obviously the portal, but this other one? That’s somewhere in Polter Heights.”

“We could ask Vladdy about—” His dad turns just in time to see Danny reach the bottom of the stairs. “Oh, Danny! Come to see what the fuss is about?”

Calling the jumble of equipment his parents are standing in front of a computer is a bit of an oversimplification. While there is a regular keyboard, it’s embedded into a console, which is as wide as Danny is tall, that’s covered in all kinds of dials, switches, and blinking lights. Four monitors are bolted to the wall above the console, two of which always show the same thing: a radar of the Ghost Zone, or at least the area immediately surrounding their portal; and another that covers all of Amity Park.

The city radar is lit up in a way Danny’s never seen before. White spots flicker in and out all over the screen, seemingly without reason, but after staring for a few seconds, he notices a pattern. While the lights dance over the whole city, more appear in the south-east. The longer he watches, the easier it is to draw a line around the active area. An oval that covers almost a third of the city, and at one end is their house, Fenton Works.

Danny spots it easily because it’s one of only two lights that aren’t fading. While the others appear at random, shining for less than a second before they fade, the light over Fenton Works holds steady. Another solid light marks the other end of the oval.

“What’s happening?” he asks. His ghost sense hasn’t gone off, which must be a good sign. He looks to the portal embedded in the furthest wall of the lab. The doors are firmly shut, and the warning light above it is dim.

“White spots are areas of densely packed ectoplasm, usually portals, although these aren’t very bright. So, if portals are forming all over the city, they’re either very weak or very small,” his mom explains. “But this shouldn’t be happening.” She points to the spot over Fenton Works. “Natural portals have complex signatures, but the Fenton Portal, as a stable point, has a unique signature that we can isolate from other portals. We had to calibrate the city scanner to ignore our portal because it kept setting off the sensors.”

“Maybe it’s broken?” Danny suggests.

“Danny.” His dad has never sounded so disappointed. “Fenton Tech doesn’t just break.”

But no technology is perfect—Tucker would kill him for saying that—and Danny opens his mouth to argue. Nothing comes out, though. He’s “borrowed” his parents’ equipment enough times to know how well it works. They might have a lot of mishaps in the testing phase, but once a piece of Fenton Tech is done, it’s done. “Okay, fine, it’s not broken. But wouldn’t that many portals be, like, really obvious?”

His parents blink at him.

“Have you not looked outside?”

Apparently not, because they sprint across the lab and charge past him up the stairs. He follows them up to the front door and, as he already saw from his room, the sky is bright and clear.

“That can’t be right,” his mom says.

“Maybe it is broken,” his dad says, in the same tone one might tell a child their beloved pet is dead.

Danny gives him a consoling pat on the back. “Sorry, Dad. Maybe we should shut off the alarm?”

With the front door open, the noise spills out into the street. It shouldn’t be loud enough to bother the neighbours, but Danny rather enjoys it when the police don’t come by to deal with noise complaints. It happens so frequently that he’s on a first-name basis with most of the officers in the area.

He also likes not having a headache, and if the alarm goes on any longer, it’s going to drill a hole right through his brain.

“Okay,” his mom says. “We’ll take the RV and see if we can find anything. Danny, can you tell Jazz we’re out when she gets up? She wanted me to look over her paper on cellular processes, but I don’t know if I’ll have time now.”

Danny stiffens. “Jazz is home?”

“Last night. You didn’t see her?”

“I was out. Why is she home?”

“Honestly, Danny. You need to pay more attention to things.” Because Danny’s the one who doesn’t notice things, yeah. His mom shakes her head. “Her roommate has family visiting. She offered to give up her room for the week so that they wouldn’t need a hotel.”

“Right. I’ll tell her.”

At half past six, Danny shoves a note under Jazz’s bedroom door. He waited a whole half hour for her to wake up; it’s not his fault that she didn’t before he had to leave. And he does have to leave, right now. He has a lot of important things to do that aren’t here. What a shame.

—✧✦✧—

Danny’s best friend Tucker enjoys a lengthy waking-up process on the weekend. He knows this from the many sleepovers they’ve had since preschool. First, Tucker becomes aware that he is no longer asleep. It happens slowly today, as he clings to a fading dream, the minutes slipping away. Second, he searches for the most comfortable position, turning first one way, then the other, flipping his pillow, and tugging his blanket up to his chin and kicking his feet out at the bottom. All without opening his eyes. Then, he snuggles as deep into his bed as he can and dedicates himself to its warmth for as long as physically possible. This can last anywhere from ten minutes to an hour, maybe longer.

Tucker’s record so far is three hours wasted just savouring this quiet time.

Today, he gets three minutes before Danny moans from the beanbag chair beside Tucker’s bed. “Jazz is home.”

Tucker awakens with a shout. He thrashes, tossing his covers away, and rolls to the opposite side of the bed, shouting again when he tips right off the edge.

Danny hears this all happen, but his gaze is locked on the Dumpty Humpty poster taped to Tucker’s ceiling, tracing the edges of the cracked-egg logo. Breakfast would be good right now.

“Danny!” Tucker pops up on the other side of his bed. “What—when did you get here?”

“Uh...five hours ago. Angela took your stash, by the way.” Danny waves toward Tucker’s desk.

The stack of plates and cups piled on the corner had been impressive, although nothing compared to the hoard scattered around Danny’s room. It’s a good thing food tainted with ectoplasm doesn’t grow mould, otherwise his room would be a biohazard.

Actually, never mind. He’s enough of a biohazard as it is.

“You owe me twenty bucks.” Danny glances over at Tucker, who is crawling back onto his bed.

His sleep shirt is a baggy t-shirt covered in black roses. Not Tucker’s, then, but something he stole from their other best friend, Sam. His shorts, decorated with constellations, aren’t his either. Danny had wondered where that pair went.

Tucker sprawls across his bed, flaunting his stolen goods. Not that Danny’s any better. He’s pretty sure the sweatpants he wears right now are Sam’s, based on the cut. And he doesn’t own a hoodie that’s the same eye-straining blue as an old Windows error screen with a sad emoticon face on the chest, but here he is, wearing it.

“Ugh. Dumbest bet I’ve ever made.” Tucker jerks his chin in Danny’s direction. “I think there’s a twenty under my shoe over there.”

The shoe is behind Danny, under Tucker’s desk. Just the one shoe. As promised, a crumpled twenty is stuck under the heel.  Danny unfolds it and starts flattening it against the edge of Tucker’s desk leg.

“My mom didn’t say anything about you suddenly appearing in my room when you weren’t here yesterday?”

“Tucker, I love your mom, but she’s an adult. Adults don’t pay attention to that kind of stuff. Also, I pretended I was asleep.” He would have liked to actually sleep, but couldn’t with how his thoughts kept spinning. Jazz is home. Jazz is home. Jazz is home.

“So.” Tucker’s bed squeaks as he rolls onto his side to peer down at Danny. “Jazz. Have you seen her since…?”

“No.” Danny runs his thumb over a corner of the twenty that refuses to lay flat. “She’s home for a week. Can I crash here?”

“All week? Your parents won’t notice?”

He shoots Tucker a deadpan look.

“Right. Obviously, yeah, if you really need to. But, dude? I think you should try talking to her, first.”

What a novel idea. Amazing that Danny hadn’t thought of that already. Not once in the months since Jazz graduated and moved out, or the half year before that, when he tiptoed around the house avoiding her.

If only they just talked.

“Don’t give me that sassy look,” Tucker says. “But fine, don’t talk to her. At least try being in the same house.”

“Tried that already. Didn’t work out too well.”

“Danny.”

His hands drop into his lap. It’s not that he’s trying to be difficult, but he already knows how it’ll go. He’ll wait until Jazz is somewhere open and preferably facing the door, like the living room or kitchen. His steps will be unnecessarily loud as he approaches, giving her plenty of warning before he appears, but it won’t matter. She’ll still make that face when she sees him.

“One night,” Tucker says. “We can hang out all day today, and you can stay here the rest of the week, but you need to spend tonight at home.”

Danny wants to spit his reply, but it comes out with soft resignation instead. “Fine.”

—✧✦✧—

Just as Danny suspected, Tucker’s parents don’t say anything about him showing up without warning when they creep out for lunch. Maurice, Tucker’s dad, even reaches out to ruffle Danny’s hair, but when Danny sees the hand coming from the corner of his eye, he flinches away. He doesn’t mean to, but it’s instinctual, and he tries to brush it off. Neither Maurice nor Angela comment on it, although surely both of them saw it happen.

Adults just don’t like to see things.

Danny and Tucker spend the day playing video games and scarfing down day-old pizza. He doesn’t hear from his parents, but he gets one text from Jazz.

Jazz | Today 4:56 p.m. Need a ride to school tmrw?

Tucker reads the text over Danny’s shoulder and slowly raises his eyebrows, as if to say, “I told you so.” Which is ridiculous, because Tucker didn’t tell him anything except that he had to spend one night in the same house as Jazz. But he didn’t say how long that night had to be, and it’s so easy to lose track of time when playing video games.

It’s well into the night when Tucker yawns for the fifth time in as many minutes and rubs his eyes. “Dude, see what happens when you wake me up at ungodly hours?”

He’s sprawled out on his bed again, having given up on the game some time ago. Danny sits beside him, cradling a controller in his lap. He isn’t really playing anymore, just going around shooting things. His only goal now is running down the clock so that he can spend as little time as possible at home tonight.

“I woke you up at 11 a.m.,” he says.

“Exactly. A.m. That was cruel. It’s not even”—Tucker squints at his phone—“midnight, and I’m falling asleep.”

He frowns. The screen goes dark, and he taps it to wake it up again. 11:34 p.m., it reads. Tucker’s head slowly turns toward Danny, whose eyes are firmly locked on the TV.

“Do you remember if there’s a secret on this level?” Danny asks. “I’m only missing one, and I’d really like to finally hundred percent this game.

“Dude,” Tucker says.

“Can’t take that long to find, right? Half an hour? An hour?” Maybe longer if he missed it and has to backtrack. Wouldn’t that be a shame.

Tucker drives his heel into Danny’s hip and shoves him off the bed.

Danny squawks as he tumbles to the floor. When he hauls himself back up, Tucker is glaring at him. At least Danny thinks he’s glaring. It’s not particularly vicious. Lacks that oomph. It’s adorable, actually.

“One night, man. One night. That’s all I asked for.” Tucker shoves Danny again, this time kicking his shoulder, but he’s prepared this time. He sways, if only to humour Tucker, who smirks for a moment before glaring again.

Like he said, adorable.

“It’ll still be nighttime when I get home!” Danny says. And really, when does it stop being nighttime? Not until the sun rises. That’s a good seven hours away.

“And Jazz will be asleep.”

“Yeah, that’s generally what people do at night. I think you should do that. Right now. You look tired. Let the sounds of virtual gunfire lull you to sleep.”

“Danny.”

Oh. Oh, no, Danny was wrong before. Now Tucker is glaring, and it’s not adorable. It’s scorching.

“I can’t go home,” Danny says.

Tucker doesn’t say anything.

“I can’t be in the house when she’s there.”

He just glares.

“It’s not about me! It’s about her! She doesn’t want—I can’t—”

And glares.

“Okay, fine. Fine! I’m going.” Danny shuts off the console and the TV, then takes a big step away from them—and checks for any other electronics—before changing. The ring that expands out of his chest sparks and snaps. It splits in two, electricity arcing between the rings and his body. His skin buzzes where the rings pass.

It’s surreal to watch the bolts of electricity transform his body, replacing his hoodie and sweats with a black and white jumpsuit, almost bringing him back to the moment he died. The only thing missing is the bloody mess on his left arm.

When the rings fizzle out, Danny turns to Tucker with his hands on his hips. “Happy?”

“Moderately. Good night!” Tucker is probably trying for some dramatic plunge into darkness when he turns off his lamp and throws himself back against the bed, but Danny’s ghostly aura ruins the effect. It illuminates the room in a soft glow.

“You’re still here,” Tucker says.

“Just want you to know how much I hate you.”

“That’s nice. Now go exist in the same building as your sister.” Tucker flaps a hand in Danny’s general direction. He hesitates another minute before finally leaving, phasing through Tucker’s wall and taking off into the sky.

It’s a nice night for flying, though, and Danny never said he would go home right away.

—✧✦✧—

Fenton Works is quiet. Jazz is in her room, waiting for her brother to come home. Maddie and Jack are asleep, exhausted from a day of scouring the city, searching for portals they had no chance of finding to begin with. The third bedroom lays empty, its occupant dawdling somewhere halfway across the city.

So no one sees it when the lights on the computer in the basement change. When the flickering stops. When a dozen faint spots are scattered across the city.

No one sees when those lights converge into two brilliant points, so bright the whole screen goes white before fading into black. And finally, the alarm shuts off.

—✧✦✧—

There is not enough room in all the worlds for the things that want to emerge. Their bodies press against the seams of infinite realities, but they cannot break through. While they are beyond simple concepts like physicality, it would not be wrong to say they thrash, and howl, and gnash their teeth as they push into the void In Between, stretching out, out, out but never reaching the end, because there is no end. And yet, that eternity is not enough.

They are many, and they are one, and they are far too much and need more.

But they were also prepared for this. Not all of them, but a part, one that calls itself they-she-it, calls herself clever, calls itself Mother.

There is not enough room for all of them, but there is enough room for a thread, already cast. As the thread that weaves and binds and pulls and puppets thrusts its way into existence, it meets something not unlike itself.

Another thread, caught in something that is many things but also one. The Beyond stares with holes that are not eyes, opens a gaping maw that is not a mouth, and lets the two threads meet.

It is still too much.

Reality tears itself open to make room.

The sky cracks as the universe shifts. With it, Danny Fenton’s chest is carved open. His vision shatters into light and shadow as the space around him splits, filling him with spiders, and hornets, and the deep below, and oh so many things that push against his skin from the inside but still cannot break through.

As the tear closes and the acidic light it leaks disappears, Danny plummets. Lightning crackles around him, arcing off his skin in blinding waves, and sinks into the earth when he hits the ground. He lands on something that isn’t hard but isn’t soft, just enough to keep his skull from cracking like the sky. Slowly, the shards of his vision start to mend, darkness expanding, light shrinking into twinkling points.

Eventually, the world settles around him. The pressure in his body remains, making his ribs creak as something pushes from the inside, but the burden on his mind lessens. The static fades, taking with it the sound of fluttering wings, shifting earth, and crackling fire, until Danny can hear his thoughts again.

There is nothing quite like pain to make him feel human again.

“What the hell?” he asks the stars overhead. Not glow-in-the-dark, this time. Real stars, which twinkle at him, sparkling with mirth, and do not answer.

His back aches from the rough landing, although it’s still better than breaking open against the pavement. A line of heat swoops across his torso, stretching over his shoulder and cutting across his spine.

Danny sits up, hissing when his back peels away from whatever broke his fall. The alley reeks of burnt flesh, a smell not dissimilar to Sunday barbecue. He studies his new burn with a sigh.

His jumpsuit has been melted through, and the skin beneath is a blistering white rimmed with red. Second degree, then, widespread but not deep. He probes it gently, mindful of how sensitive the skin is right now, and traces the burn’s path from his navel to up and over his shoulder. Craning his neck, he tries to see where it ends, but it stretches past his vision. He can feel it, though, burning against the small of his back.

Danny touches his shoulder and hisses. While the burn narrows to a point on his stomach, it stretches as wide as his splayed hand when it crests his collarbone, creeping along the curve of his neck and just over the slope of his shoulder. He breathes deeply through his nose, trying to ride out the heat building beneath his skin.

This wouldn’t have happened if Danny had been paying attention. He tries now, raking his gaze across the sky, then down through the alley, searching for his attacker, but it’s hard when the walls keep shifting and the shadows stretch to impossible depths, filled with a void so dark Danny could stick his hand in and lose sight of the limb completely.

But there is no enemy waiting for him.

Not a ghost hunter, then. They tend to follow the motto “shoot and suppress,” and descend upon him the moment he hits the ground. At least that was his experience the last few times he was struck down by a ghost hunter. They could be trying for stealth, but even through the ebb and flow of stone and shadow, Danny knows he is the only living thing awake at this hour.

Although, living is up for debate. Danny is constantly weighing his inhumanity against the corporeal needs of his body, like Anubis weighing the goodness of his heart. What’s heavier: lungs without air or a stomach that hungers? Eyes that don’t blink but still burn from lack of sleep? It’s a balancing act that Danny still hasn’t mastered with his clammy skin and sharp teeth.

Thing, however, is entirely accurate no matter what side the scale tips toward.

And Danny is searching for a thing. While a ghost hunter would have come for him by now, a plain old ghost is more likely to shoot him for fun and leave before he can retaliate. And they must have left, because he doesn’t feel the telltale shiver of his ghost sense.

Danny’s jaw clenches. Someone attacks him in his haunt and doesn’t even have the decency to play the game right. Someone bold, then, or incredibly stupid. Could be a new ghost, but it’s been a while since someone new really tried fighting him, and ghosts don’t usually resort to potshots; they’re a far too dramatic bunch for that.

Someone familiar, then. Confident enough to hurt him, wise enough to flee, and, in all likelihood, friendly enough to rub it in his face when he’s less inclined to beat them for it.

The list of possible offenders is long.

Blisters are already rising along the deepest part of the burn, clusters of bubbles decorating the centre swath. Danny’s hand is hovering just over the blisters when the name pops into his head.

Ember.

Something clicks. Not only in his mind, but in the alley. A single, sharp noise that echoes between the shifting walls and makes Danny flinch. He looks up, not quite sure what he’s searching for now. There’s nothing to see, anyway. Only the stars, dim as they are. He can’t tell if they’re laughing at him anymore.

Danny’s thoughts take a moment to catch up with him.

Ember.

Suddenly, everything sharpens into focus. The alley walls stop moving. The shadows lose some of their depth. The box he is sitting on solidifies. It’s like the world around him had been caught in a state of flux but is now settling back into place.

“Really, Ember?” No answer comes, of course. She saw her opportunity, got her shot in, and now she’s running away before he can retaliate. Danny’s annoyance spikes. Not at the burn—it’s surface-level, after all, and will be nothing but another scar in a few days—but at Ember’s absence. They have a deal. Her, Danny, and the others.

It’s hardly surprising that she, of everyone in their little group, would leap at the chance to ruin his night and leave him hanging. She’ll probably come around in a week or so to crow about it and check out the new scar, maybe sooner.

The whirlpool in Danny’s mind spits out the occasional thought, but does not tell him when he and Ember are supposed to hang out next, or if they even have plans. Something about guitar lessons? When he dips into the eddy, it threatens to drag him down, down, down to where the static and crackling and crushing earth lies.

What time is it? What day is it?

His phone flares to life when he raises it from his pocket, and the sudden brightness in the dark alley sends a spike of pain through his skull. He groans and drops it, pressing a hand to his temples. A few seconds pass before the throbbing fades.

Blurry vision, dizziness, and confusion.

“Concussion,” he mutters, still massaging his temples. Wonderful. Fantastic. Ember not only roasted him, but also knocked a few more brain cells loose. Just what he needs. He doesn’t remember hitting his head, but that’s not a point against having a concussion.

Looks like this outing is over. Even without the concussion, he would probably stop. Breathing deeply pulls at his new wound. Unfortunately, accelerated healing does not spare him from pain.

He snatches his phone from the ground, steeling himself for the brightness, when something skitters across the back of his hand. Danny yelps and flings his arm wide, phone slipping from his grasp. It hits the alley wall with a crack and falls to the ground, dead.

“Really?” Danny scans the pavement, looking for the spider that startled him, but it’s long gone. “I was very nice to one of you, earlier,” he calls. “Shit.”

So much for texting Tucker or Sam for help, although maybe it’s for the better. Tucker will be mad Danny didn’t go home right away. What time is it, anyway? His phone met its untimely demise before he could see. The dark screen taunts him, a web of cracks branching out from the corner. Another soldier lost in the line of duty. It will be missed.

Maybe it’s early enough that he can swing by unannounced. 

No, Danny decides. No point bothering Sam with this, and he doesn’t want to face Tucker’s ire again. Ember’s burns are hell for a moment, but the worst will be over by morning. Treating it now would be a waste of bandages.

He staggers to his feet, giving the world a moment to stop spinning, and glances at the box that had broken his fall. It sits just out of reach of the streetlights, in the exact middle of the alley. Weird place for someone to throw it away. The lid is caved in from his landing, but it still holds most of its shape.

“Thanks, I guess,” he says. Great, now he’s talking to boxes. “Enjoy getting picked up by the Box Ghost, or whatever.”

Danny stares at it a moment longer before shaking his head and taking off, leaving the file box behind. It doesn’t matter, though. The threads are already tied.

#dpxtma #danny phantom #phicc #phanfic #danny phantom fanfiction #tumblroneshots #unluckyalis #what comes after #ectoimplosion2023

[transboykirito]

some short rambling kirisuna with trans girl kirito my beloved

Asuna tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. They’d been laying in bed for hours now, and she was pretty sure that neither she nor Kazuto had slept for so much as five minutes. She couldn’t be sure what was keeping him up, but she knew what was keeping her awake, and it made her want to cry conflicted tears.

She was a lesbian.

It was a recent realisation, but it was one that hit her like a bolt of lightning. 

She’d considered it for months now, going back and forth with her friends and with her own reflection in the mirror. She’d done her research, she’d read every article she could find. Everything brought her to the same conclusion.

She loved Kazuto, she really did. If there was such a thing as soulmates, he was hers. It was like their minds and bodies were designed just to fit together, to be each other’s perfect matching halves.

But she couldn’t deny that the idea of calling somebody her husband felt… wrong. It felt like something she was supposed to do, something that was the simple, natural progression of things. She’d married a nice man, settled down and now she was his wife. That was what was expected of her.

They’d been married for six months now, and she’d be lying if she didn’t say that, on one or two occasions, she’d re-imagined their wedding day, where she might find a bride waiting for her at the alter instead of a groom.

The guilt ate her alive. She loved her husband, her soul loved his soul, but she knew deep down there would always be something deeply unsatisfactory about her life unless she was honest with him, like there was a piece of herself that she'd never have a chance to truly discover or grow. She would spend years wondering what could have been, who she could have been if she'd given herself the chance.

Kazuto had been open about his own feelings towards Eugeo and a handful of boys and men he’d known throughout his life. Hell, it was one of those conversations that had prompted Asuna to follow up on the silent, conflicting feelings she’d felt for years. She knew he would forgive her if she asked to break things off. He would understand.

…Right?

She’d been trying to have the conversation for days now. She’d found her conclusion within herself, all she had to do was voice it. She knew she couldn’t keep trying to hide this away.

She’d reached her breaking point the night before, when she’d fallen asleep to a blissful dream of their wedding day. Except… the one dancing with her wasn’t Kazuto, but a strangely familiar, faceless woman. She’d held Asuna so securely as they danced that Asuna felt like she’d known her for her entire life, and she’d woken up in tears.

She wanted to find that woman, find that moment.

Kazuto deserved that moment of his own, too.

“Asuna…” Kazuto’s voice whispered in the dark, “Are you still awake?”

“Yes,” she rolled over to look at him, her eyes widening when she saw his face. Was he… crying?

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, already sensing her concerns growing, “I… I need to talk to you about something. I think you might already know.”

She panicked. She had noticed something was off about him for a few weeks, but she’d been so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she told herself she was imagining things. God, how much had she missed? 

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Asuna reached out her hand to hold his own under the blanket, tracing her thumb in circles over the back of his hand. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to soothe him or herself.

Kazuto took a deep breath, “Listen. I’ve been thinking about a lot.”

So have I, Asuna thought to herself, a little sarcastically.

“I didn’t realise how hard this would be to say,” Kazuto said, a laugh almost dancing on the edge of his voice, “You… you know how I’ve been playing GGO a lot more, lately?”

Asuna could recall the hours he’d lost to that game in just the past month - really, it had to be unhealthy. But Kazuto had seemed happy each time he woke from his dive, and Asuna couldn’t complain about that. If anything, she was just happy he was finally enjoying games other than ALO.

“Of course I noticed, did something happen in the game? Is Shino-non okay?”

Then Asuna’s thoughts turned sour. She didn’t play GGO nearly as often as Kazuto or Shino did, guns just weren’t really her style, so she didn’t truthfully pay much attention to what happened in the game. Kazuto knew that, Shino knew that. Had they been using GGO as a place to secretly meet up and…

She must have been easy to read - honestly, between herself and Kazuto, they could read each other as easily as a book, it came with the territory of being so familiar to one another - because Kazuto immediately screwed his face up.

“It’s not what you’re thinking, I promise, it has nothing to do with Shino,” he assured her, noticeably avoiding looking her in the eye.

Whatever it was, it was serious. She’d never seen him this frustrated just trying to talk to her. Yes, there were moments when they’d had petty arguments or been frustrated with one another, but he looked completely angry with himself as he seemingly battled with his tongue to form the words.

“There’s something I need to say, too…” Asuna’s voice was small, nervous. If Kazuto had something serious to say, they might as well both get things off their chests at once.

Kazuto gave her a look, somewhere between terrified and sympathetic, and smiled a forced smile.

“We’ll say it on three, okay?”

Asuna swallowed. Kazuto took a shaking breath.

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three…”

“I’m a lesbian.”

“I think I’m a woman.”

Then there was silence. 

They both tried to process what they’d just heard, and for a moment Asuna wondered if she’d simply made up what Kazuto had just said. This had to be a dream, right?

Then there was laughter.

“Really?” Kazuto asked, because Kazuto was truly the one person in the world who would be able to make Asuna laugh when she felt like sobbing.

She nodded a little, “I’ve been trying to tell you for a few weeks, I just didn’t want to lose you.”

“Oh, same here,” Kazuto breathed a sigh of relief, “Do you still want to be together? I mean, I know this probably takes some time to get used to, and I don’t really know where I want to go from here or what I want to do now, and I haven’t picked out a new name really, but-”

“I want to be with you forever.” Asuna interrupted, “That’s why I was so afraid to tell you. I knew I had to tell you eventually, but I couldn’t bare the thought of having to lose the person I love so much. I guess I should have known that wouldn’t happen.”

“Guess you’re still stuck with me after all,” Kazuto joked, then she smiled and pulled Asuna into a tight hug, kissing the top of her head. Asuna gently kissed her shoulder over the fabric of the t-shirt she’d worn to bed, humming to herself contentedly.

So, Kazuto really was her soulmate after all. They’d be each other’s happily ever after, their dream for the rest of their lives, it would just take a little work to get there - and how exciting it was that she got to be by her side for all of it, right from the very beginning.

“What should I call you now?” Asuna asked.

Kazuto rolled over to lay on her back, and Asuna rolled on top of her. They’d slept like this so many times, it really was a wonder they still insisted on having a king-sized bed. Asuna’s half was usually wasted space.

“Kazuto, I think. For now, anyway. I wanted to find something else, but…”

“But?”

“I’m so used to the way you say my name, it feels weird when I try to find anything else. I liked Kazuko, or maybe Kazuha, but I think I’m overthinking it.”

“Kazuko,” Asuna repeated the name a few times, smiling, “I like it, it’s pretty! I think you should be allowed to overthink this, it’s a big decision.”

She blushed, “It sounds pretty when you say it.” 

“Kazuko?” Asuna looked up at her, blushing just as much as she was, “I like saying it too, Kazuko. I’ll keep saying it while you get used to it, if you want me to?”

“Of course,” Kazuko grinned, “Just… not in front of the others just yet. I haven’t had the guts to tell anybody else yet.”

“Of course, I won’t say anything until you want me to, Kazuko,” Asuna felt a pair of arms wrapped securely around her middle and she relaxed, breathing in deeply. She felt so, so safe with her.

“Can I ask… when did you realise? That you were a lesbian, I mean,” Kazuko asked, deftly tracing patterns on Asuna’s side with her fingertip.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Asuna admitted shyly, “I think I finally made my mind up about it around three weeks ago now. How about you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Kazuko laughed again, “Around three weeks ago, when I had this dream about us getting married, but… we were both brides. I can’t believe I was so stupid, I should have just told you right away, we could have both avoided feeling so crappy the last few weeks.”

“I’ve been dreaming about the same thing,” Asuna said, then she yawned, “I love you, Kazuko. I’m glad we can tell each other anything.”

She swore she actually felt her heart skip a beat, and she giggled to herself. She had the cutest wife in the world.

A wife.

She had a wife.

Sure, things were going to take time to get used to, but she had the most incredible woman in the world by her side. They’d make it through anything together.

“We can talk about this more in the morning,” Kazuko mumbled, kissing Asuna again as she started to fall asleep, “Thank you for trusting me to tell me anything.”

So, just like they had so many nights before, and just like they were going to continue to do for the rest of their lives, Asuna and Kazuko fell asleep in each other’s arms, and Asuna remembered for the millionth time that the woman she was lying with truly was her soulmate, in every sense of the word.

And when she finally fell asleep that night, she found herself reliving the same dream she’d had a precious few times now - a dream she was certain would one day come true. An eternally familiar woman, her beloved Kazuko, holding her so securely as they danced, like she’d known her their entire lives.

Someday, she knew they would.

#mine* #kirisuna #trans!kirito #i've been thinking a lot about those stories where couples get straight married then one comes out as trans and the other comes out as gay #like... if that isn't proof soulmates exist idk what else could convince me you know? #its 1am and i just kinda rambled into a google doc for *checks document hisrory* 31 minutes #because i just have this need to write things idk #queer kirisuna really does have my heart i love them #queer kirisuna #< giving them a tag i post about it a lot #mine*fics #mine*tumblroneshots

[mpreglouis]

Prompt: Can you do a zianourry mpreg where Louis is pregnant and he gets seriously ill? Thanks x

#story #tumblr #tumblroneshot #oneshot #5k #ot5 #nonsmut #nonsmuto #nonsmuttumblr #fluff #fluffo #flufftumblr #mpreg #mprego #mpregtumblr #domestic #domestico #domestictumblr #angst #angsto #angsttumblr #protective #protectiveo #protectivetumblr #reality #realityo #realitytumblr #illness #illnesso #illnesstumblr

[transboykirito]

let's try this again. a rambly thing i wrote about sugu and kazuto.

It had been hours of the two of them just laying there on her bed, her head on his chest and his hand in her hair. Neither of them was talking. The only sound in her room came from the quiet humming of the air conditioning unit on the wall.

“Does it ever get better?”

Suguha asked the question without expecting a response. He of all people wouldn’t know how to give one. Hell, she shouldn’t be asking him anything like that in the first place. Who gave her the right to ask him if her issues would get better when his far outweighed her own?

“Maybe.”

Kazuto’s voice was tired. It was more than just sleep deprivation, though both of them were in need of rest. It was the kind of exhaustion that only came from trying to live and exist while everything in you screamed to end it all now. It was an exhaustion she’d once been inconvenienced by as she dealt with a depressed family member, and now it was an exhaustion that she had come to know herself.

God, she was selfish. How many times had she laid there at night and convinced herself that if they spoke the next day, it meant he would be better? How many times had she thought his life was a weight on her shoulders? How many times did she comfort herself in the fact he cared too much about her to leave her behind?

“Do you even want it to get better?”

How many times had she placed herself on a pedestal in his life, so certain of the fact she could love him enough to take away this kind of soul-interwoven sadness? How conceited had she been to think that a few hollow-but-well-meaning words of I love you, I promise you’ll get better could ever save him from something that had existed inside of him for nearly half his life?

“Maybe.”

It wasn’t like she hadn’t understood, to some degree, that he needed more help than she could offer him. She’d cried herself to sleep on multiple occasions, terrified that her beloved brother wouldn’t be there when she woke up, because deep down she knew that he needed something she couldn’t provide. He needed…

That was the issue - part of it, at least. She didn’t know what he needed exactly, but she knew it was more than her and her naive teenage words could amount to. No amount of pleading for him to stay just a little longer, no amount of empty promises that one day he’d feel happy again, no amount of daydreams of him walking her down the aisle or seeing her graduate - none of it would ever be enough.

She wasn’t enough.

She’d hated herself for it. She hated that there was something she couldn’t do for him. She hated that this boy, the one she loved more than anything, the one who made her life worth living, was so sad that she could never even see past the surface of it.

“I don’t know how I’d do any of this without you.”

She doesn’t say it to guilt-trip him. It isn’t some unintentional twist of a knife someone else had buried deep in his side. She says it because it’s the truth. She really, really doesn’t know how she’s supposed to live without him.

He doesn’t respond, so she tries another approach.

“How do I keep going when it feels so hopeless?”

He shrugs lightly, shifting her head as he does.

“You just do. You just have to believe there’s a reason for it.”

He sounds so tired. She wants to tell him to rest. She wants to tell him to roll over, so he can lay his head on her own chest and drift off to sleep. She wants to tell him she’ll protect him from all the things that haunt him in his dreams. She wants to tell him that the exhaustion won’t last forever.

“What’s your reason?”

She holds her arms around his middle tighter. She knows that she won’t be his answer. She knows exactly what - no, who - his answer is going to be. She’s jealous, just the tiniest bit, that she isn’t his world in the same way he’s hers, but he deserves his own happiness, and she’s truly happy that he’s found it.

“I just have to be here long enough to see things be good again.”

There’s another long pause where neither of them says anything. He’s thinking. She’s thinking. He’s likely thinking of all the moments that led him to this moment - all the people he met and loved, the lives lost, the lives taken, the years stolen from his life that he can never recover.

So what’s she thinking about?

Aside from him, because she really is worried about him.

She’s thinking about the bloodshed she witnessed in the Underworld. The lives she took, the pain she felt, the fear she felt, the love she felt. The hopelessness and the rebellious determination. The bonds she forged that she could never return to. The impact she left that she would never know of. The wounds and the blood she’d shed. The slimy feeling of that witch all over her. The humiliation. The rage. The moment something inside of her had simply snapped. The moment her entire body gave way and she could no longer stand.

She felt she didn’t deserve to compare her experiences to Kazuto’s. He’d fought for longer, in harder battles, with stronger enemies, facing higher stakes. He’s been doing this - this loneliness, this anger, this despair, this rot - for far longer than she had with a much heavier load on his shoulders. Really, she felt it inappropriate to even be asking for his advice now.

Then he talks again, his weary voice giving her just the slightest hint of bittersweet affection.

“You know, Sugu, I wish I was as strong as you.”

She blinks. It’s the other way around, isn’t it? She’s the one who so desperately wishes to be as strong as him. What kind of game is he playing now?

“Strong?”

“You keep loving people. No matter how many times your heart breaks, you love people anyway. The Underworlders, Nagata. Even me. That’s really strong. I wish I could do that.”

She blushes just slightly. Did he really pay attention that much when she complained about him? Or, rather, more truthfully, she blushes because loving him - loving anyone - has never been a choice for her. It’s simply how it is.

She loves him. He could break her heart a million times over, and every time she would still hand it back to him, barely beating and held together in the palm of her hand. Every time, she would give him - or anyone - her heart with the expectation of it being broken, and she would give her heart away anyway.

Maybe it was naive. No, she knows it is. She would cry and wail like a child, then put her heart back together just enough to throw it to whoever she thought might hold it for a while, just for the shortest, sweetest moment. Then, she would live in that love until it threatened to suffocate her, and she would do it all over again.

She’d dragged her broken, bloodied heart through the mud so many times, she was surprised it was still beating.

But it was. Her heart was beating, and she was alive.

He was alive.

She could breathe.

“It’s because I’m too stupid to stop caring.”

She says it in that half-hearted, self-deprecating way that implies she’s trying to joke, but neither of them find any humour in it.

“Maybe.”

“Hey!”

She laughs, he laughs.

She breathes.

She knows they’re both tired. She doesn’t know how long they’ll be tired for. Maybe forever. Maybe for the next few years. Maybe until something happens and they miraculously find themselves reinvigorated by something that makes them forget everything they’ve been through.

She knows who’ll give him that. She knows it isn’t her.

She knows that when they decide this conversation is over, she’ll roll off of him and make an awkward joke about having a cramping leg. He’ll laugh and tell her it’s her fault for clinging to him like the world’s most anxious baby koala. Then he’ll linger in her doorway for a moment, they’ll plan what they’re going to do for dinner in a few hours, and he’ll go back to his room to call her on the phone.

Because Asuna has taken the spot in Kazuto’s heart that Suguha had selfishly believed belonged to her. She doesn’t hate her for it, she’s glad that her brother’s found someone who makes him truly happy, someone who makes him want to love life again. Asuna’s great, she likes Asuna.

But just for now, listening to his heartbeat while he breathes, she convinces herself that at least part of his heart is still reserved for her. For this brief moment, she lets herself believe that her words can still reach him.

He breathes.

She breathes.

“Is it ever gonna get better for us?”

He shrugs again.

“Maybe.”

Then she forgives herself enough to let herself say one more stupid, naive thing. Just once. Then she’ll hold him to it.

“Promise me you’ll still be here when it does get good again?”

He holds her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips for the first time in hours. There’s still wet tear tracks down his cheeks from earlier.

“Yeah, I promise I’ll be here a while.”

Then he sighs, like he’s lifting a weight off his chest for the first time in a while. She swallows down the memories threatening to beg him for reassurance. Another time, she promises herself. For now, their conversation here is over.

He breathes.

She breathes.

They’re going to be okay.

#mine* #leafa #kirito #oneshot #this isnt inc*st i SWEAR i just have bpd and a lot of feelings #sword art online #sao #if this flops im deleting it and were pretending it never existed okay cool #mine*fics #mine*tumblroneshots

[kinglazrus]

The King is Dead, Long Live the King

Phic Phight | AO3 | FFN

Summary: Human criminals aren't so threatening when you're a powerful half-ghost. When Danny gets kidnapped, he decides it could be a fun Friday night experience and goes with the flow. It's not his brightest idea.

Or: Danny gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to sacrifice him to Phantom.

Word count: 4068

Big thanks to @wastefulreverie for helping me beta this fic!

—

Danny considers himself a realist. He and his friends have a rather good balance when it comes to their outlooks on life. Tucker tends to look on the positive side of things. Sam often focuses on the negative. Danny, meanwhile, likes to take a moment in and ponder it. Take his time figuring out if what is happening is truly good or truly bad. There's a balance to these things, you know. His life is all about balance. Hero and civilian. Human and ghost. Kidnappee and... well. He hasn't figured out the opposite of kidnappee, yet. The obvious answer is kidnapper, but he can confidently say he has never done any kidnapping in his life. At least not intentionally

The guys that threw a hood over his head and dragged him into the back of a van, however, can't say the same.

"It's a little dusty in here." They must have used a flour sack or something. Painted it black, since he can't see any light. Some traces of whatever the sack used to hold remain, and Danny finds powder entering his nose every time he breathes. He's trying not to sneeze—doesn't want to get snot all over the bag covering his face—but it's getting harder and harder not to.

Someone grabs his shoulder and shoves him forward. If it weren't for his body's ghostly composition, Danny thinks his spine might have snapped in half.

"Ow," he says, not that it really hurts, but he wants the kidnappers to know that it could have hurt. If they want to get anything out of him, hurting him would be a little counterproductive. They haven't said anything to him yet. He assumes there's more than one since someone has to be driving the van while another is busy tying his hands behind his back.

Two kidnappers, then. At least two. He felt more than one set of hands grabbing him as he was dragged off the street, but he didn't get a good look at anyone before they tossed the bag over his head. He could just phase out of his bindings, and the hood, and the van in its entirety, but Danny has been bored lately. Being a ghost hunter isn't much fun after you've outgrown your usual rogues' gallery. Regardless, they still try to put up a fight. Skulker comes after his hide at least once a week, and the Box Ghost never misses an opportunity to annoy him. But after the enemies Danny has taken on, they're small fry. He could use a little excitement.

Getting kidnapped is definitely a little exciting.

Kidnapper One finishes tying Danny's hands. They must have used some kind of cord. It bites into his flesh and already his fingers are going numb. That could be bad. Limbs can fall off if their circulation is cut off for too long, right? Danny remembers reading that somewhere. He doesn't know how long this little ordeal is going to take. Hopefully not that long. Having his hands fall off doesn't sound pleasant, and it would probably be a pain in the ass to regrow them. He knows it's possible, thanks to that time when Skulker managed to steal his little toe, but it's not a pleasant experience overall.

He would also have a hard time hiding the fact that his hands are gone from his parents. How would he even do that? The toe was easy; he made sure to always wear socks until it had grown back. But hands? He has a few sweaters with long sleeves. Or he could stuff some gloves and sew those onto his sleeves. Or get Tucker to do it since sewing using telekinesis is hard. Taking notes at school would be a pain.

If he's lucky, maybe he'll only lose a finger or two.

"Hey, what would you rather lose: a foot or a hand?" Danny asks.

No one answers.

"I think I would rather lose a foot. You could still run and everything if you get a good prosthetic, although it might take some work. I need my hands, though. Thoughts?"

"What the fuck is wrong with this kid?" Kidnapper Two says. At least Danny assumes it's Kidnapper Two. The voice comes from in front of him rather than behind, but the guy who tied his hands could have moved.

"Wow, that was just—wow. That was just rude. I'm actually really hurt right now. I thought we were bonding."

"Um... sorry?" Kidnapper Two says.

"Thank you. So, hand or foot?"

The silence stretches long enough that Danny thinks he won't get a reply until a voice comes from behind him.

"Hand," Kidnapper One says.

"Are you serious? Foot is clearly the right answer. You lose a lot more when you lose a hand," Kidnapper Two says.

"But I like hiking."

"You can hike with a prosthetic."

"I'm not saying you can't! But it would be harder. It's probably more taxing physically. I don't know, I want to hike. Hand."

"Will you two shut up?" a third voice comes from the front of the van.

Danny decides to call this person Taxi Man. He can call them Kidnapper Three, stick with the theme and all that, but he doesn't think they have earned the title yet. Kidnappers One and Two did all the work, grabbing and binding him. What has Taxi Man done? Nothing. Zero effort. Anyone can drive a van. They aren't even driving frantically. Danny hasn't slid into the wall once the entire time. They should have hired his dad as the driver, to make things extra exciting.

Kidnappers One and Two, thoroughly chastised, fall silent. Too bad. Danny was just starting to like them.

The silence drags on, filled only by the rumbling of the van. He wishes he had a better internal clock, but as it is he can't tell if they have been driving for a few minutes or nearly an hour. Either way, he's starting to get bored again.

"So, is the, like, what you do on the weekends?" he asks. The lack of conversation is more stifling than his hood. Seriously, what kind of hosts are these people? The least they can do is give him a little chit-chat to make things interesting. He has Taxi Man to thank for that, though. "You text your bros like 'Hey, u down 2 kidnap?' That was a real two in there, I hope you heard it. Is there a group chat? I bet there's a group chat."

Danny wants to lean back. Sitting on the metal floor hurts his tailbone a little bit. Too many bad falls during ghost fights.

"If there is a group chat, can I join? I think I've earned it. We're in this together now. We can split the ransom and everything. There's this guy, Vlad. He'd pay big money for you to hand me over to him. He's totally obsessed with me in like an 'I want to kill your father and take his place' kind of way."

More silence. Then, "Do you need help?" Kidnapper Two asks.

Danny flexes his fingers, trying to get some feeling back into them. Maybe his hands really will fall off. "Yes."

"You do remember why we're here, don't you?" Kidnapper One asks.

"Well, yeah, but I'm really worried. What if this guy is a pedo or something?"

"Dave. That won't matter after tonight."

Dave. What a lame name for a kidnapper. Totally ruins the vibes. He should go with something scary like Hans. Or Gruber. No, wait. That's just the guy from Die Hard.

"Oh, right," Hans says.

"Wait, what about tonight?" Danny doesn't like the sound of that. He also doesn't like that no one answers him.

The drive lasts a little while longer. They make some turns. Stop at a few lights. Do other typical driving things, Danny doesn't know, he can't see what the hell is happening. But eventually, they come to a stop and the engine cuts off. Someone grabs his shoulder and hauls him up onto his feet. Danny stumbles as he's shoved toward the back of the van. He might have fallen out if it wasn’t for the hand that grabs the back of his shirt.

"Hey, you're stretching it," Danny whines, even as he dangles forward at a precarious angle. This is his favourite shirt. He can fix his face if he breaks it on the concrete, but his shirt? Can't fix that.

Someone grabs Danny's elbow and guides him down to the ground. There is a loud creak—probably the sound of a door opening. Somehow, everything gets darker. Danny didn't think that was possible, what with the hood. Apparently whoever painted it didn't do a very good job of blacking it out and he just didn't notice it until what little light he had left was gone. Now that they're inside—presumably, since the din of the street is gone now—it really is pitch black. In the distance, he hears humming.

Danny hums along. It's a catchy tune, very low and droning. It sounds like the kind of music Jazz plays to help herself fall asleep. He never got why she did that before, but he does now. As he stumbles along in the dark, smothered in the warmth of his hood, with the low murmur of distant voices, he feels rather relaxed. If he's lucky, his kidnappers might let him settle in for a nap.

The humming grows louder, loud enough for Danny to notice it's not humming at all but chanting. A dozen voices moan over each other as they repeat something in Latin. Danny isn't fluent in it, but Pandora has taught him a few phrases, so he's familiar with the sounds of the language. He tries to translate some of it, making out the word "phantasma" a few times.

Hey. That's his name.

A door creaks. The chanting grows louder. It flows over Danny, echoing voices melding into one as whatever space they're in spits the words back at them. It's haunting and beautiful in its own way.

The hand on his back guides him forward until his toes bump against something hard. He lurches, nearly falling flat on his face, but the hand grabs his shoulder and holds him steady. Once he has recovered, Danny feels out the space in front of him with his foot. there's a step, a small one. It's curved, rather than flat, and has a slight overhang at the top. Carefully, Danny steps up. Whatever it is creaks beneath his feet but holds steady.

"Stop here, please." Kidnapper One's voice echoes as they speak.

Danny obeys. Something rustles. The noise is followed by a weight on his head. A sheet, he thinks. But with some fidgeting, whoever is holding the sheet works his head through a hole and the weight settles on his shoulders. Not a sheet, then. Perhaps it’s a shawl. Or a poncho of some kind. The hands leave him once the poncho is settled. Danny focuses on every little noise he can. A clunk. A scraping noise, but not an unpleasant one. It brings back memories of chalk drawings on the sidewalk.

"Did I do it right?" Hans mutters.

"That looks like the book," Taxi Man says.

"Alright, cool. Marcel, continue."

Again, with the boring names. Marcel at least sounds unique, but Dave? Dave? They couldn’t even come up with fake names? Unless those are the fake names. That would be a stroke of genius. Danny still prefers Hans and Kidnapper One, though. They have a better ring to them.

"There's a table in front of you. Lie down on it," Hans says. At first, Danny wonders how on Earth he is going to manage that without his hands, but Hans has apparently thought of that. They turn him until he can feel the table. From there, it's a bit of an awkward scramble—with Hans' help—getting onto it and laying down, but he finds a pillow under his head once he's flat.

This is the nicest kidnapping Danny has ever experienced, even if Taxi Man is an ass. They gave him a warm poncho and a place to lie down. That nap idea is sounding better and better. Hans and Kidnapper One are pretty great guys. If that group chat really doesn't exist, Danny is going to make it happen.

The chanting around him rises to a crescendo, filling the space. Someone snatches the hood off his head and the chanting cuts off.

Danny blinks as his eyes adjust. Three people stand around him, two men and a woman. They are encircled by a small gathering of people. Everyone wears identical black cloaks with white accents on the hems, even Danny.

The woman standing to his left holds a long, vicious-looking knife in her hands.

"Oh," Danny says. "Well. That's not nice."

—

In hindsight, letting himself get kidnapped out of boredom wasn't a great idea. Danny should have gone to the arcade or something. Better yet, if he wanted something exciting to do, he lives above a lab. There are all kinds of fun things to get into down there. Most of those things can also kill him, but that's part of the fun, isn't it? That's what got him into this situation in the first place. The half-ghost situation, not the kidnapping situation.

"You just straight-up want to kill me," Danny says. Now sounds like a good time to start panicking. At least it would if Danny were a normal teenager. Then again, a normal teenager would have started panicking the second they were snatched off the street. Danny is just cool like that.

He takes a moment to get a good look at his kidnappers. The cloaks don't make it easy. They're loose-fitting and flowy, giving them great breathability but also masking their bodies fairly well. From the neck down, the only distinction he can make is breasts or no breasts. He mentally apologizes to all the women in the death circle. There's no delicate way to say it, it's just very obvious who does or does not have breasts. That's the problem with one-size-fits-all unisex clothing.

The three standing next to Danny—the ones who did the actual kidnapping—have their hoods pulled down and their faces exposed. The woman keeps looking between Danny and the knife as if she can't wait to stab him with it. She must be the Taxi Man. She seems like the kind of person who despises fun ice breaker games like Would You Rather.

When it comes to the men, one is significantly taller than the other, with broader shoulders. Catching a glance at the man's feet, Danny sees his ankles exposed by the too-short cloak. One-size-fits-all strikes again.

The shorter one shrugs. "Sorry." Ah, so that one is Hans. Makes sense. He has a kind face.

"If it's any consolation, we put it to a vote first. We really thought about it," Kidnapper One says.

"It was unanimous," Taxi Man supplies.

"Wait, before we go any further, I just have to ask." Danny looks at Taxi Man. "Are you okay being referred to as 'man'?"

She stares at him. "What?"

"Like, in general. Some people don't like being called dude or guy and all that stuff. I just want to make sure, are you cool with that?"

The knife twitches in her hand. She must really want to stab him right now. "Sure, whatever. I don't care."

"Okay, cool. Didn't want to be rude." Danny goes back to his favourite kidnappers. "Can I at least know why?"

"For centuries, a battle has been waging beyond the comprehension of mortals. A Tyrant and a King caught in an eternal battle. The founder of our order witnessed the first recorded battle over a thousand years ago, in the times of Ancient Greece. The Tyrant had seized control of a powerful city-state meant to expand his power by taking others as well. But before he could, the King came, vanquished him, and left. He did not even stay to receive thanks for his great deed.

"Our founder witnessed this battle and claimed they were gods. Many people did not believe him, but others had also seen the great battle and together, they formed our order Two centuries later, the Tyrant appeared again. And, again the King came and defeated him. For centuries, the Tyrant and King have waged war against one another. Their battles are great and many. Until recently, it had been some time since the King and Tyrant were last seen. Some believed them to be dead, but those faithless few have been proven wrong, for our King has returned! All hail Lord Phantom!" Kidnapper One cries out.

"Hail! Hail!" The chant echoes around them.

Danny doesn’t like the sound of that. They’re talking about him, or his ghost half, but he doesn’t understand. The Tyrant? He gets the king bit, a little. He is the Ghost King, but he certainly wasn’t a thousand years ago. He wasn’t alive a thousand years ago. Except for that one time he and Vlad went gallivanting through time, fighting over the Infi-Map. The Tyrant thing suddenly makes a whole lot more sense. And here Danny was hoping that jaunt through history could be a fun adventure with zero consequences. With his luck, he should have known better.

"But the battle has drawn on, far longer than it should. Neither the King nor the Tyrant has prevailed. Today, however, we fix that."

"Cool, cool." Danny hums in disinterest and examines the room instead.

Beyond the questionably fashionable cult people, there's not much to the room. It's big, empty. Some kind of old warehouse with windows high up on the walls. There's a catwalk overhead that leads to an office overlooking the room. Whatever used to be here is all cleared out now, but he notices marks on the floor where machinery used to be. Deep scratches and pits from things being bolted down.

He lies on a wooden table. It's finely crafted and painted a vivid purple. Leaning over the side of the table, he notes that the table is placed on a raised platform. Rounded, like he thought, also wood and also painted purple.

"Nice craftsmanship," Danny says.

"Thank you." Kidnapper One preens. "I'm a carpenter." That explains the stocky build.

Around the platform is some kind of chalk drawing. It circles the entire thing, strange symbols etched over the concrete.

Perhaps now would be a good time to run. It was silly fun before, but there are knives and an altar now. Danny doesn't remember signing up for a cult and he isn't interested in joining one now. From the corner of his eye, he catches Hans bending down and picking something up from the floor. Danny ignores him, though.

"So, this has been fun, but I think I need to get going." He sits up and swings his legs off the table. Kidnapper One and Taxi Man back away, stepping off the platform. Danny cracks his neck and readies himself. They have put so much effort into bringing him here, he may as well put on a little show. Who's going to believe some crazy cultists if he pulls a few ghost moves on them, anyway?

He goes intangible.

The cultists murmur with excitement. Danny barely pays them any mind, though, more focused on the fact that the cloak and restraints didn't fall off.

"What the hell?" Danny lets the intangibility drop, then pulls it up again. Still, nothing happens. "Hey, what's going on? What kind of—"

Danny is yanked backwards. His head bounces off the wooden table. While the warehouse spins and black spots dance in his eyes, an arm curls around his head and pins him in place, bent over backward. A hand, Hans' hand, forces his mouth open. Something slowly tips over Danny's face.

A drop of liquid touches his lips, blistering the instant it makes contact. Danny thrashes, trying to escape Hans' grip. He twists and jerks his head, but all that does is put his eyes under the stream as it drops. Danny screams as liquid blood blossom hits his face. The mixture is cold but it burns, hot and cold, freezing and melting his skin at the same time.

"Shit," Hans mumbles. The stream redirects. It splashes across his nose and cheeks before finally entering his mouth. Danny has to swallow it. If he doesn't, he might drown in the middle of a dusty warehouse. He doesn't want to, though. Everything burns. His lungs, his throat, his tongue. His screams turn to gurgles as the liquid fills his mouth. Hans forces his jaw shut. Danny can't see it, but it must be Hans.

Left with no other choice, Danny swallows. Every second is agony. He feels the mixture flow down his throat, searing him from the inside out. It settles heavily in his stomach.

Finally, Hans backs away. Danny collapses onto the floor, sobbing and gasping for breath. He can't see. He can't speak. He can barely breathe.

"Lord Phantom!" Kidnapper One shouts. His voice booms throughout the warehouse. "You have fought long and hard, but you have been weakened, bound against your will."

The chanting picks up again. Danny's name echoes all around him.

"We offer this boy, your mortal prison, as a sacrifice in your name! We have seen his feats of power and know him to be the one who enslaves you!"

Danny crawls forward, feeling for the edge of the platform. He must be close. Through the grey haze that his vision has become, he can just make out the edge of the wooden stage. He launches himself at it. The air before him sparks.

Danny screams again as electricity courses through him. The runes on the floor glow with power.

"Hail! Hail!"

"Hail! Hail!" The cultists cry.

Someone crouches in front of Danny, reaching over the runes. He raises his head, blood and tears dripping from his eyes. Taxi Man lifts him with a hand to his throat.

"As he breathes his last breath, so may you breathe life again! Hail the King, Lord Phantom!"

The knife comes down.

—

The room is dark. It's still daytime, but the sky outside is black. The only illumination comes from the circle of runs. The glow is dim. The pale light reflects off the sacrificial blade. A drop of blood falls from the tip onto the runes. They pulse.

The cultists all stand back and watch their sacrifice. A deep wound carves the inside of his arm, a remnant of his futile attempt to escape his fate. The knife still found a home in his chest. Now he lays splayed out on the dais, one arm outstretched. Blood drips from his fingers, falling onto the runes. With every drop, the runes brighten, until the growing pool of blood beneath him spills over the edge of the dais.

The runes flare, blinding everyone. The room rumbles.

"It's happening." Marcel steps back in awe.

An arc of light bursts off the body. It happens again, and again, until waves of silver light drown out the runes. They explode from the boy's bloody chest and burst into starlight. The light lashes against the barrier, pushing and pushing until the runes burst into dust. The next wave of light washes over the cultists and they drop to their knees screaming.

A chill fills the room.

Marcel struggles to lift his head. The runes have gone out. The body lays still, motionless, a shadow against the dais. A figure hovers above the altar, wreathed in silver light and wearing a black crown around his throat. Otherworldly green eyes look down on Marcel.

"You wanted the King." Phantom speaks with a hundred voices. His mouth doesn't move, but the noise fills Marcel's head. Every word rumbles with power. It feels as if his skull will crack open at the next syllable.

"So here I am." Phantom's arm stretches out. The worshippers drop to the floor, ectoplasm spilling from their mouths. It burns as it bubbles up through their throats, searing their tongues and lips. The only sound they can make is guttural screams. Marcel chokes, waiting for death. It doesn't come, though. Between one blink and the next, Phantom disappears.

When Marcel looks down, the body on the dais is gone.

—

Prompt by @five-rivers: For centuries, the cult has anticipated the glorious rise and return of Lord Phantom. That time is at hand. All they need to bring him fully into the mortal world is the perfect sacrifice: Danny Fenton.

#phic phight #phic phight 2022 #unluckyalis #danny phantom #phicc #phanfic #danny phantom fanfiction #tumblroneshots #danny fenton #crack fic #angst #crack taken seriously #cw character death #cw murder #cw human sacrifice

[transboykirito]

this is nooooot incest don't be weird k thanx bye

She couldn’t remember when her feelings towards her brother had started to change.

She knew that, for years, he was her everything, her best friend, her partner in crime and childhood mischief. She knew that he’d cared for her when she was sick and that he’d crawled into her bed after he had nightmares. She knew that she told him about what she learnt at school while he told her about the articles he’d read in his computer magazines.

She knew that one day, suddenly and without explanation, he’d shut her out. She knew that their long conversations had stopped and she was lucky to get a few words out of him over an entire day. She knew that her mother had stayed home with her the next time she had a fever and her brother’s bedroom door stayed shut tight even after he’d watched horror movies their mother had forbidden them from watching late at night.

Then he’d fallen victim to that death game, Sword Art Online, and things had changed indescribably.

For one, her parents sat her down and explained the real reason her brother had shut her out. He’d found out he was adopted. That had taken a while to adjust to for Suguha, too. She struggled for months, wondering if that meant the bond they’d had for so long had been a lie. If Kazuto had shut her out after he knew, was it because he saw her as a cousin rather than a sister? Did he even see her as his family at all anymore, or was she just a stranger he’d once assumed he’d known?

Her feelings were complicated and impossibly difficult to explain to her mother. She loved him, she always would, and nothing would change that. Nothing would take away the memories they’d shared or the fact that, to her, he would always be her big brother. He was her hero, her knight in shining armour, and she’d never see him any differently.

When he returned to them, the feelings she’d been adjusting to somehow got worse.

Kazuto was back. Her big brother had been safely returned to them. That should have been the end of the chapter. They could start a new story, be close again like she’d daydreamed of for so long.

But the man who came back from Sword Art Online was far, far different from the boy she’d grown up alongside. He’d changed, and figuring out how to re-learn everything was a task neither of them was particularly willing to address.

Their family didn’t talk about these kinds of things. She knew that when Kazuto came back from that death game he’d returned with several prescription medications - to help him sleep, to help him relax, to help him produce the chemicals his brain had a lack of, to help him manage the chemicals that his brain had in excess - but they never really spoke about it outside of the occasional reminder that he had pills sitting by a glass of water on the counter that he needed to take.

She knew he met new people in that other world. There was Rika, the girl who always looked at him just a little too long for Suguha not to notice. Klein, the one Kazuto teased at any opportunity, in that endearing, almost sibling-like kind of way. Agil, the bartender who gave him drinks as long as he promised to not tell his mother. Ayano, the one who blushed as she told everyone Kazuto had become like a brother to her, and Suguha had bitten the inside of her cheek to avoid yelling at her that Kazuto already had a little sister, thank you very much, and it wasn’t fair for her to walk in and steal him from her.

She knew they’d shared memories there that she’d never be part of. They had trauma and guilt and fondness and a family that she’d been cast out of, even if unintentionally. Too much had happened to him without her there, and she’d been frozen in time the moment he left. There was too much they’d never be able to catch up on, the time discrepancy between them was too difficult to truly navigate.

They sit around at the restaurant recounting memories she didn’t have, stories she’d only ever hear instead of experience, and nobody seems to notice the fact she isn’t talking. Nobody notices when she leaves to the bathroom for an hour, nobody notices when she disappears from their meet-up in Alfheim Online later so she can cry to herself without humiliating Kazuto - because really, has she ever managed to be anything other than an embarrassment to him?

Now, as she looked between Kazuto and his friends, entirely an outsider to them and their new lives, she wondered just how long this feeling would linger before she snapped.

Asuna was the worst of all. It wasn’t that she disliked her - she was quite fond of her as a person and she considered her a friend - but whenever she saw her with Kazuto, she felt like her heart had been torn from the safety of her ribcage. They were so close, he was so gentle with her, and Suguha knew that the days when she had once been her brother’s entire world were long gone.

The way he spoke about her was even worse. He seemingly never tired of gushing about her, fondly recalling their endless memories together that Suguha wasn’t there for and brushing off inside jokes Suguha would never understand. 

“What do you mean?” She’d ask as he made a comment to her.

He would blush lightly and reply, “Oh, it’s a joke between me and Asuna,” without further explanation, and Suguha would feel her heart break all over again. There didn’t seem to be any ill intent, he was young and in love, innocently thinking of his partner because he adored her, but every comment drove Suguha further away.

She could recall a time when they’d been closer than anyone. He was the first person she’d run to when she wanted to play something, and he’d come to her when he wanted to talk to someone. They’d sit and talk for hours about anything, she knew him like the back of her hand. She took interest in all of his interests, researched his hobbies and made sure she’d always be able to keep up with a conversation.

Then one day she’d come home from her after-school kendo club and found Kazuto sitting on the couch with Asuna curled into his side watching one of the films that he’d said he’d grown bored of years ago.

It shouldn’t have affected her so much. She wanted to walk over and sit between them and demand he tell her when he’d changed his mind about everything - movies, TV shows, his friends, his life goals, everything. She wanted to know when he’d changed his mind about her. She wanted to beg him to explain the exact moment that she’d lost his interest, to try and understand where she had faltered to the point he’d found someone else to fill the void in his time.

But she didn’t.

She, somehow, found the willpower to storm off to her room instead, locking the door behind her before she threw herself on the bed and cried like a spoilt child who hadn’t gotten her own way. Really, she felt like it, too.

He was happy, shouldn’t that have been enough for her?

It's a sombre feeling; the realisation that she’d wildly overestimated the importance she held in her brother's life. The girl walking next to him, just ahead of her, her hand in his, was the one he held closest to him now, the girl who'd captured his heart and soul two years before.

It's bitter. She doesn't like the way her thoughts weigh heavy on her heart as she wills herself to stop grasping at straws, making comparisons based on nothing but the minimal information she’d retained from the stories he's told her and the few times they’d held a conversation. She doesn't like the way her brother looks at her as she wonders what she’d give to be the one he looked at so fondly, just one last time.

It's not that she's in love with him, like she’d originally feared. Somehow, this is worse. Falling in love with someone could be explained, as troubling as it would have been to tell him and their parents. This… was something she didn’t even know how to explain. She couldn’t articulate the way her chest ached whenever her name was mentioned, a feeling deeper than lovestruck jealousy hollowing out her rib cage.

How was she supposed to tell him that even just the knowledge he'd spent those two years falling in love with someone made her feel like breaking something? She didn’t want him to be lonely, the only thing she wanted for him was happiness, but…

She wanted him to find happiness by her side. She wanted to be the one he went to when he was sad, the one he wanted to celebrate with when he achieved something. She wanted him to need her, she needed him to need her.

What was she supposed to be if she wasn't needed?

It was all she was trained to be from the time she was a child. She overheard too many stress-fuelled arguments, waved goodbye to her father as he left on too many long business trips, forced herself to take on her brother's burdens just so he could be happy.

How had nobody seen it before? Why had nobody noticed the way her shoulders slumped, aching from carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders? At least, she was carrying her world, because he was all she ever thought about, woven into everything she did.

It’s around four months after the end of the Alfheim Online incident when Suguha finally snaps.

Kazuto and Asuna had been lying on the couch holding each other and talking in those hushed, giggling tones that told Suguha everything while not telling her anything at all. From where she stood in the hallway, she could hear their soft voices - yet another conversation, a personal one, that she’d never be let in on - and, when the voices went silent, she heard muffled laughter and the unmistakable sound of stolen kisses breaking apart over and over and over again.

She can’t bare it. She runs up to her room, the one place she has at least a little comfort, because not everything in it is tainted with the thought of him, and she stares at herself in the mirror until her cheeks are red and puffy, and her vision has blurred from tears. Because that was the face of someone who was no longer good enough for the one person she’d die for, the face of someone who had everything she held close stolen from her by the only person in the world she couldn’t find it in herself to hold resentment for. Because Asuna was Kazuto’s entire world, his reason to live, and she couldn’t bring herself to hate the person who brought him so much peace.

What are you supposed to do when the one person in the world who could break your heart in an instant actually breaks it?

That was what Suguha was wondering, staring at her ceiling, her mind filled with nothing but the seemingly endless white of the painted ceiling and the comforting nothingness behind her eyelids when she shut her eyes tight to stop the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Kazuto was gone.

He wasn’t dead, not in any way that she was allowed to grieve for, but in every way that mattered. He wasn’t dead, but he was never coming home again - not to their home, because this had stopped being his home so many years before. He wasn’t dead, but the life in his eyes was one she’d never recognise again. He wasn’t dead, but she almost wished he was, just so she’d have an excuse to mourn him.

Because how do you grieve for the living?

How do you grieve for the lifetime of memories that had fallen away to just that - memories? How do you grieve for the future that you had found so much comfort in the idea of, the future that slipped through your fingertips like grains of sand as the other person kept living without you? How do you grieve for every childish thought of happily ever afters and dreams that come true, because the real world scarcely provides you with a real happy ending?

And yet, she couldn’t exactly say that either, because this was an ending, and he was happy. 

He was happy to be starting a life with someone else, his soulmate. He was happy to be proudly showing off the rings on their virtual fingers and planning to get married in the real world as if it was the only day he could ever think of - it was, it was the only day he ever talked about now. It felt like he was always talking about weddings and houses and babies and a million plans where Suguha wasn’t involved - an entire life where Suguha wasn’t involved.

His happiness was just beginning, and hers had just ended.

She knew she had no right to feel so sad. She should have been happy for him. Her big brother finally had his peace, he had everything he wanted. He had a beautiful partner, a beautiful daughter, a successful career lined up, a real chance at happiness and stability and normality and love.

And… where did that leave her?

What happened to all the love that filled her chest so often she feared she’d choke on it? What happened to the lifetime of cancelled plans and unfulfilled promises? What happened to him helping their father walk her down the aisle, or helping her pack her bags for university someday when she followed in his footsteps and finally settled into a path she wanted for herself? What happened to the life she’d planned, where she was far more important to him than she really was?

She comes to her mother’s room late that night and sits at the foot of her bed. Midori sits up, frowning in the way a mother does when she realises she can no longer protect her children from the inevitabilities of growing up.

“Mom,” her voice cracks just slightly, “I think I just got my heart broken… But I don’t know how to tell you about it.”

“I know, honey,” Midori shifts herself to sit closer to her daughter, pulling her into a tight hug as Suguha sobs into her shoulder.

She’s noticed. Suguha knows that she’s noticed. Neither of them say it out loud. She’s humiliated, Midori’s entirely unsure of how she’s supposed to proceed. 

She almost regrets ever saying anything, because having a name for it feels so much worse.

Suddenly the word borderline is thrown around inside her head more times in a day than she can count. Her counsellor - the best one her mother can find in their price range, one Asuna had personally recommended - tells her that she isn’t going crazy, she just needs to rewire her brain a little, to readjust her thinking. Suguha wants to tear her hair out, to beg her to please explain where the wires are so crossed, because she can’t remember a time when she’s felt like they were ever normal.

“Normal is such a terrible word,” her counsellor reminds her for the millionth time, “Nobody has the same idea of normal, so it’s really not fair to hold yourself to someone else’s standard of it.”

“I just want my normal to be the same as his normal,” she sobs, and the older woman falls silent.

Borderline is such a terrible word, she thinks. The borderline between what? Hopeful and delusional? Love and obsession? Passionate and entirely insane? Then she scolds herself, because she isn’t supposed to use that word. She isn’t supposed to get mad at herself for feeling things so strongly, she isn’t supposed to punish herself for having emotions.

But she does anyway, and she finds herself locking herself away in her room like a child being given a self-inflicted time-out over and over again. Every time Asuna visits. Every time Kazuto mentions his girlfriend. Every time he doesn’t respond to something she says. Every time she thinks too hard about him and feels herself slowly fall over the edge of some unimaginably rocky cliff.

Each time she locks herself in her room, sobbing into her pillow, she’s back in that scene in the restaurant, listening to them exist without her. Listening to them praising Kazuto for being a man she knew she’d never get to meet, because she didn’t know him like they did, and she didn’t get to know this new Kazuto like they did, and the space she’d carved for herself in his life was filled by a new little sister and a new family that she didn’t know how to belong in.

When had she become nothing more than a footnote to him? A hastily-added addition at the end of his biography, an honourable mention in the stories of the childhood they’d shared? When had she become a name he mentioned casually, with a little note of pain in his voice, then moved along to the next topic?

So she asks him.

She breaks down, sobbing on her knees in his doorway, begging him to tell her why he hates her. Begging for some kind of confirmation that whatever fondness had once been held for her was long gone. Begging for some kind of closure, if only so she could bury these feelings and move on.

He, in confusion, tells her that he doesn’t hate her. He tells her he’s sorry he’s been so distant, tells her he thought of her constantly during those long days when he was so far away from her. He tells her that things have changed, they’ve both grown up, and she feels her heart sink to the floor because she hasn’t.

She’d been waiting for him to return to her so they could pick up exactly where they’d left off, and she’d never really grown up from that moment, and he’d left her behind.

She didn’t know when her feelings towards her brother started to change.

She didn’t know when he’d grown into a new man, and she’d drive herself insane trying to find the exact moment he’d become someone else. She didn’t know when the suffocating jealousy towards Asuna turned into determination to forge a new bond with the woman who was going to be part of her family forever. She didn’t know when he’d finally started letting her in again, trusting her with the pieces of his heart that were still fragile.

But she did know that she waited for him for years - since they were children, since he came back from Sword Art Online, since he was reunited with Asuna, since he came back from the Underworld, since he proposed, since he left for America to intern at some new company that had insisted he needed to be there to witness the creation of, since he and Asuna welcomed their first child in the real world.

She waited for him, always, still unsure of how to stop being the little girl he’d left behind all those years ago, still frozen in the moment she’d realised they were strangers now, still waiting at the table in the corner of Dicey’s for him to return from his business trip and excitedly explain everything that had happened while he was away - because he spoke to her now, she knew him now.

She knew him, at one stage he had been as familiar as the back of her hand. 

#mine* #fanfic #this is saved in my google docs as my favourite person's name hahahaha #leafa #kirito #bpd suguha tag #also this isn't finished i just... don't know what to do with it after this point #mine*tumblroneshots #mine*fics

[transboykirito]

some asugeo/yujikirisuna smut (i can’t think of a title)

rating: explicit

warning: they do the sex. sorry

this is less smut and more sappy character analysis whilst eugeo is getting a bj but sure. kazuto/yujikirisuna is mentioned and referenced a bunch but this this one is just eugeo and asuna lol

Everything was still new - for both of them, really. It was new and exciting and nerve-wracking all at once. It was a feeling Eugeo would normally immensely dislike, but with her, he found himself so willing to learn, so safe that he could trust her with every part of him.

She moves gently, slowly reaching her hand towards the waistband of his underwear while she’s kneeling before him. She has more experience with this than he has, although just barely, but her movements are still slow and cautious, like she’s just as curious as he is.

“Asuna,” Eugeo breathes as her fingers slip under the elastic. She looks up at him, blinking, and he somehow manages to tell her to be gentle.

“Of course,” she says it as if it’s the most logical thing in the world, and to her, it is.

She tentatively tugs the underwear down, and Eugeo blushes at the quiet gasp that slips from her lips when his dick springs free from the fabric.

He still wasn’t used to this. They’d done this twice already now and he’s done it with Kazuto a handful of times, but they’re both so different and Eugeo’s eager to know both of them off by heart.

Kazuto gets excited. He gives Eugeo messy kisses across his face and neck and chest and everywhere else. He fucks him like there’s nothing else in the entire world that he wants more than he wants him. He has more hands-on experience with this kind of thing, though he’s been on the receiving end until he met Eugeo, so all his actions are taken with an intimate knowledge of exactly what to do, a learned expertise from firsthand experience.

Asuna, on the other hand, is far more patient. Their solo sessions stretch on before they’re even fully undressed, and she takes her time to enjoy every second of the teasing and clothed touches, something Kazuto ends up being far too impatient to commit to.

There’s nothing wrong with the way either of them do things, of course, and Eugeo is deeply appreciative of both experiences. But some days like this one, he wants someone to take him carefully, slowly, and that’s how Asuna likes it.

Eugeo isn’t a stupid man. He knows why. He knows why Asuna prefers things gently, why she’s so cautious with him - with both of them. He knows why Kazuto is so quick to shut down the idea of using any kind of restraints and why he’s so firm in his decision. He knows why Asuna needs so much more time to be ready for this.

He’s honoured, in a weird way, that she trusts him enough for this. She trusts him to be gentle with her. The only other person she trusts like that is Kazuto, who she’s been dating for three years now and has known even longer.

And yet, she lets Eugeo in. She lets him fumble with the clasp of her bra, lets him kiss every inch of skin across her chest and pray to whatever higher power exists in this world that he can spend the rest of his days committing her body to memory. She lets him lay between her legs and delve his tongue into her, lets him grip her thighs just tight enough so the skin beneath his fingertips turns white because he’s so scared that if he lets go she’ll disappear like some kind of daydream.

They don’t go further than that on their own. Not yet, at least. It isn’t like he’s never been inside of her before, he and Kazuto have done it together before, and it isn’t like he doesn’t enjoy being inside of her, he’s in pure euphoria each time. But… for the two of them, just now, it doesn’t feel right yet. She wants to take things at his own pace, he wants to stay like this for a little while longer. Neither of them know why, it just feels right.

So, Asuna looks up at him for confirmation that he wants this, and when she’s met with a nodding head and a breathless whisper of “please, Asuna,” she takes him into her mouth.

He thinks he’ll never get over the feeling. Instincts tell him to grab her hair like Kazuto does. Past experience tells him that she hates when her hair gets messy. Past experience tells him that they aren’t ready for it yet, she might panic. Past experience tells him that he has no need to hold her there - that she wants him just as much as he wants her, that she won’t stop until he’s reached his peak or requests her to.

Because she loves him.

It’s still hard to get used to. He never thought he’d deserve this. He never thought he would one day find someone - two of them, actually - who wanted him to feel good, and feel safe, and feel loved.

Because love and sex weren’t transactional things. They weren’t something you gave and took on the expectation of receiving something else for your own personal gain. That took him a lot of time to unlearn.

When Asuna skilfully drags her tongue down the underside of his dick, making him shudder, Eugeo thinks to himself for the millionth time that she’s some kind of goddess - something both she and Kazuto laugh at with a sense of irony each time he says it.

And she’s so gentle. They both are.

And he feels so safe. They both do.

Asuna’s left hand wraps itself around his base, while her right deftly traces circles over the back of his left hand, which is clutching the sheets by his hip. He opens his hand. She gently puts her hand in his. He holds it. This is what love feels like.

When she looks up at him through her lashes, he falls for her all over again. When she swallows around him, when his head just barely touches the back of her throat, when she bobs her head so carefully, with a learned rhythm she’s still perfecting, when she pulls back for air, lips swollen and glossy, he falls for her all over again.

She uses her hand a few times while she catches her breath and Eugeo is transfixed on her. Her face is flushed, her lips are wet and tinted a darker red, and she’s possibly never looked more beautiful. Her chest rises and falls, Eugeo blushes relentlessly as he watches it.

She gently kisses the tip of his dick, closing her eyes blissfully before she takes it into her mouth again. Eugeo wants to see her look this happy forever. Moments like this, she’s so beautiful, and she doesn’t even realise it.

He’s reminded of the first time Kazuto went down on him. He wasn’t timid the way Asuna was, but he wasn’t sure of himself. He’d asked Eugeo ten times if he was doing okay and Eugeo had stammered out ten times that he was doing perfectly. He’d bashfully admitted he was nervous he’d screw up or look awkward, Eugeo assured him that he was the most gorgeous man to ever live.

He wondered now if Asuna felt the same way.

“You’re so beautiful,” he commented, voice faltering ever so slightly as he inhaled a sharp breath.

“Hm?” Asuna hummed around him, looking up at him again, eyes half-closed and cheeks dusted with pink. It takes everything in him to not come then and there. They have plenty of time, they’ll make sure of it.

He squeezes her hand gently, the one that’s still holding his, the one that’s there as much for her reassurance and grounding as it is for his own. Then, cautiously, he moves his free hand to her cheek.

She makes a confused noise, but doesn’t stop her own movements or attempt to stop his. He watches more of his length slip past her lips until - there it is. His tip hits the back of her throat again and Asuna pauses for just a brief moment, preparing herself, then takes him ever so slightly deeper.

Eugeo moves his hand from her cheek to the back of her head, hesitating. But she stops, nods her head ever so slightly, and he understands.

He doesn’t guide her head as much as he just rests his hand on it, fingers playing with her hair as he admires her. He isn’t really sure what he’s meant to be doing, Kazuto’s the one who usually does this, and he makes a mental note to ask him later, but Asuna seems to enjoy it, leaning into his touch each time she pulls her head back.

“Asuna.”

“Mm-hm,” she just knows. Maybe it’s because they’re getting used to each other. Maybe it’s because she’s dealt with too many unannounced from Kazuto that she’s just memorised the signs. Either way, she shuts her eyes, pulls her mouth away from him with a hum, and replaces it with her hand.

Again, Eugeo is in awe of the sight of her. He holds her hair a little tighter, possibly slightly too tight, but she lets out some kind of breathy moan at the feeling, and it’s enough to send him over the edge.

It’s a feeling he never expected to get used to. It had terrified him the first time. It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff in the wildest wind, knowing he was about to fall, but having no way to stop himself. The pressure built up, his anticipation at it’s peak, and two slow strokes from Asuna’s hand send him falling into the crashing waves of his high.

It’s another way Asuna and Kazuto do things differently. Asuna knows her own limits, Kazuto coughs and pretends he can handle swallowing - he can’t, he knows he can’t, Eugeo knows he can’t, but he tries anyway and it would be endearing if Eugeo wasn’t always concerned he was going to choke.

Asuna’s lips are slightly parted, tongue resting just behind her teeth, and Eugeo removes his hand. As if on cue, Asuna licks away the come that landed on her lips, then holds her hand out expectantly.

It takes Eugeo a few seconds, and Asuna has to prompt him - “Eugeo, a tissue please?” - but he takes one from the box on their bedside table and hands it to her.

She wipes away the remainder, opening her eyes to look at him again. And, again, he falls for her. How can he not? He can’t blame Kazuto for the countless pieces of half-finished poetry scrawled on scrap paper. She’s a work of art.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks.

She nods, giggling lightly at how shy he still is, and he helps her move from the floor to sitting comfortably in his lap. This is new for him too. She presses a delicate kiss to his lips and he returns it, his hands around her waist while hers rest on his shoulders.

It’s gentle, slow, reassuring. Just like all of her.

He’s the one who deepens the kiss. They won’t go any further than this, not yet, but for now, this just feels right.

#mine* #smut #yujikirisuna #asugeo #that’s the ship name right? #eugeo #asuna #fanfics #sword art online #sao #mine*fics #mine*tumblroneshots

[kinglazrus]

In Case of Emergency

Chapter 14: The Epilogue (For Now)

Previous | Sequel | AO3 | FFN

Chapter summary: This is not a resolution. This is a desperate bid for time.

Chapter word count: 1043

—

The Fentons arrive at the hospital just as William is leaving. It's four o'clock. The sky is grey, and the air is muggy. Finally, the predicted rainstorm is close to breaking. William pauses at his car, watching the Fenton's RV peel into the parking lot. It dings a few vehicles on the way in. Jack must be driving. Between Jack and Maddie, he is the faster driver, even if his driving is reckless. Somedays, William thinks the city ought to put out warnings if anyone knows Jack Fenton will be on the road. Reckless endangerment aside, if you need to get somewhere quick in an emergency, Jack is who you want at the wheel.

William winces with sympathy for the owners of the damaged cars but feels nothing for the Fentons. The RV screeches to a halt, the passenger door flying open before it has even stopped all the way. Maddie runs out. Jack follows her a moment later. They don't even lock the RV in their haste.

Seven hours. That is how long it has been since the school secretary first called the Fentons. Seven whole hours. They must have been busy with something important.

No, William doesn't feel sorry for them. They should have answered the phone.

He gets into his car, slamming the door closed a little harder than necessary. In the peace and quiet, William tips his head back and sighs. The bandage on his forehead is scratchy. He ended up needing a single stitch. Dr. Alejo concluded that he was stunned rather than knocked unconscious. He has no signs of concussion, but he will have a nasty bump for a few days. He was cleared to go home a mere twenty minutes after getting injured.

The Guys in White kept him for an additional hour and a half. They asked him the same questions over and over.

What happened when he was alone with Danny? We talked. I was comforting my favourite student. He has been through an emotional ordeal, you know, and needed someone to lean on. His family hasn't arrived yet. We only talked.

Did he say anything strange? No. He kept asking me when he could go home.

Did you see him when he attacked you? My back was turned.

Where did he go? I don't know.

Did he believe that was really Danny Fenton? I don't know.

William drags a hand down his face. What a day this has been. He might have to call out of work tomorrow and take a mental health day. After everything that has happened, he could use a break. He had promised Danny that everything would be okay, but he doesn't know how to keep that promise, especially not now.

With a sigh, William starts his car. "Time to go home."

The first raindrops fall as he pulls out of the parking lot. Within minutes, the oppressive humidity of the day turns to a bone-deep chill that William feels even within the safety of his car. He turns the heat up, but it doesn't help. Goosebumps raise along his arms and shivers plague him the rest of the way home. Every once in a while, he glances toward the passenger seat. The drive takes longer than it should, thanks to the evening rush. He ends up stopped at every light, boxed in by cars on either side. Even once he hits the highway, his car is surrounded. Despite the cold, William sweats every time he catches someone staring into his car. They are nothing more than bored passengers with idle stares, but his stomach twists into a tighter knot every time he notices them. It isn't until he's home, safely pulled into his garage, that he feels some form of relief.

The cold follows him inside.

William sets to work immediately, going to every window in the house and pulling the blinds shut. He starts at the back of the house with his office and moves on from there, making sure not even a sliver of light remains. From any angle, it's impossible to see outside. Most importantly, that means no one outside can see in. Just as he is debating how to cover the front door window, a car pulls into his driveway. He watches in silence, waiting for the figure inside the car to get out.

Dr. Alejo runs up the path to the front door. William opens it before she can reach for the doorbell and welcomes her inside. Her clothes and hair are soaked from the rain. She looks like a drowned kitten. Sounds like one, too, as she makes noises of frustration and wrings out her hair on William's front carpet.

"Please, make yourself at home," William says.

"Sorry," Dr. Alejo responds flatly. Leaning onto her toes, she peers around William's shoulder and scans the hall.

"This way." William leads her to his office. The air gets colder as they approach. He pushes open the door and motions for Dr. Alejo to go in first.

Danny waits for them on the couch. Dark bags rest under his eyes. They look like bruises against his pale skin. William isn't surprised. He did have to stay invisible for three hours, after all.

"Did it work?" he asks.

Dr. Alejo joins him on the couch, flopping onto the empty seat. Her wet clothes make the leather squeak. "Congratulations, you're possessed."

William is not naïve enough to say that Danny relaxes at those words, but there's a visible shift. He sinks into the couch and lets out a slow, controlled breath. There is still an immense amount of pressure weighing down on him—on all of them—but some of that burden has now lifted.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit you so hard," Danny says.

William shrugs. "I'm alright. It helped sell the bit." He sits down on Danny's other side. The couch isn't quite big enough for three people to sit comfortably, but no complaints arise.

Danny leans over and rests his head on William's shoulder. "Now what?"

An excellent question. One that none of them has an answer to. William meets Dr. Alejo's gaze over Danny's head. She shrugs back at him. No matter. They will come up with an answer eventually. For now, everyone thinks Danny Fenton is missing. They have all the time they need.

#phic phight #phic phight 2022 #unluckyalis #danny phantom #lancer #mentor lancer #parental lancer #in case of emergency #phicc #phanfic #danny phantom fanfiction #tumblroneshots

[kinglazrus]

Make-Out Make Out

Phic Phight 2022 | AO3 | FFN

Summary: Danny finally realizes his feelings for Sam during the events of Claw of the Wild. This is how the rest of that summer goes.

Word count: 4261

—

Twenty bodies lay on the shrivelled grass dripping with slime. Danny, Sam, and Tucker stand before them in the grey morning light.

"Now what?" Tucker asks.

Danny's hands go intangible, letting the goo on his gloves slide off. A part of him is still convinced that was their breakfast the campers were floating in and not some special liquid. It's the right consistency for it.

"Now we get everyone in their beds," Sam says. "With any luck, waking up there will help convince them the past few days were just a dream."

"And then we get fifty more days of Lancer and Tetslaff. Yay," Tucker drones.

"Come on, Tuck. It won't be that bad." Danny recalls Lancer's piercing rendition of Row, Row, Row Your Boat. "Maybe. Let's just get to work."

Danny does most of the heavy lifting, seeing as he's the one with enhanced strength and the power of flight. Sam and Tucker work together to bring the girls to their cabin while Danny gets everyone else. It takes less than twenty minutes to get everyone situated. By that time, the sun has risen. Danny thinks. It's hard to tell through the fog, but the grey surrounding them is a little bit lighter than it was before. He figures that's the most they're going to get at Lake Eerie.

The only evidence remaining of Walker's kidnapping scheme is the suspended animation container. It squats in the middle of the camp, as dismal and grey as everything else around them.

"What do we do about that?" Sam asks.

"Good question." Danny frowns. They can't leave it, obviously, but there's also no way for them to safely dispose of it out here. Danny floats around the container, knocking his fist against the glass. His parents would love to have something like this. Since the container was made with Ghost Zone materials, they wouldn't even have to ghost-proof it. It's already inescapable for any ectoplasmic creature. Danny shudders.

"The Sleeper Awakes, what is that?"

Danny drops to the ground and prays Lancer doesn't see him. The metal bracing is tall, but Danny at eighteen isn't as small as he was at fourteen. It won't take much for Lancer to notice the glow of his aura and the stark black of his jumpsuit. Danny keeps his transformation rings low as he army crawls forward to peek around the side of the container.

Lancer stands at the threshold of the counsellors' cabin, gaping at the container.

"Uh..." Sam and Tucker stare at each other. None of them have a good explanation.

Lancer grabs his head. "Oh, I have such a headache. What did... Was that..."

"Mr. Lancer!" Danny calls out, interrupting his train of thought. He scrambles to his feet and joins Sam and Tucker out in the open. "It's, uh, the aquarium that you told us about. You know, so we could study the fish in the lake." He gestures out to the murky water beyond the cabins. "For... a biology badge?"

Sam elbows Danny's side and hisses in his ear. "That's for Boy Scouts you idiot!"

Danny shrugs. It's too late, now.

Lancer scratches his head as he looks from the container to the lake. "And the... porridge?"

"What, you haven't seen aquarium water before?" Tucker knocks his fist against the tank. The liquid inside jiggles. "Keeps the fish nice and healthy even though there's no filter on this thing. It's really good stuff."

"Right—I... yes. I must have, but..." Lancer stares into the distance. "Porridge. It's time for breakfast." He shuffles off toward the mess hall.

Danny holds his breath until Lancer is gone, letting it out only once the mess hall door closes behind him. "I can't believe that worked."

"Aquarium!" Sam slaps Danny's shoulder. "Danny, I'm gonna kill you if anyone tries to put fish in that thing!"

"Relax, I doubt there's any fish in this lake. It'll be like nothing ever happened."

—

It was not like nothing ever happened, but not for the reason the trio feared. That first morning after the fight with Walker, everyone woke up groggy and disoriented. As Sam predicted, they all had nasty headaches that kept them from thinking too hard about what had happened. Some of them paused when they saw the new aquarium sitting in the middle of the camp, but no one questioned it. Danny waited with bated breath for someone to say something. He spent the next week tiptoeing around the other campers, afraid to say something that might trigger a memory, but as far as he could tell, the plan worked. No one remembered, and if they did, they thought it was all a wild dream.

Camp continued as normal, except for one small change. Danny and Sam, more often than not, found themselves in each other's company. At a glance that didn't seem strange. They are friends, after all, and spend a great deal of time together. But they have always been a trio, with Tucker at their side. Over the next couple of weeks, however, they kept ending up alone in quiet, secluded corners. Even during group activities, they slipped away from the others to be on their own.

It started with gentle touches. Nothing out of the ordinary. Shoulders bumping. The backs of their hands brushing as they walk. Then came the handholding. During hikes, campfire song sessions, when they moved from one activity to the next, until they sat next to each other at the dining table one day and immediately entwined their fingers without a second thought.

The Walker debacle was over, and the rest of the camp was none the wiser, but it was not like nothing ever happened.

—

Canoeing on a calm lake sounds like a nice way to spend an afternoon. And it would be—if it were any other lake at any other camp. But at Lake Eerie, the water is black, and the sky is grey. A still lake means no wind, and no wind means the fog hangs over the lake with no inclination of moving. The sun can't even burn the haze away because of the heavy cloud coverage. They should try canoeing at night. The sky is always clear then, for some reason.

"Enjoying the scenery?" Danny asks.

Sam lifts her head from where it rests against the back of the canoe. "The dreariness appeases my goth sensibilities, but there is such a thing as too much grey."

"No, I don't think that's true." Danny leans over the edge of the canoe, making it rock. "See this patch right here?" He points to a spot to their right. "That's my favourite patch."

"It's prettier than all the others?" Sam asks.

Danny grins. "That's where Dash is." An ectoblast fires from his open palm. The ball of light shoots through the fog. It highlights a burly silhouette across the lake before striking the water with a splash. Dash and Kwan's cries of shock ripple through the fog. Danny snickers.

"Using your powers for good, I see," Sam says.

"I saved his life not too long ago. I think I get a little compensation for that."

Sam rolls her eyes. "Excuse me, we saved his life, thank you very much. I was pretty badass and cool before we got caught."

"You mean I wasn't badass and cool?"

"You mean with your whole 'you don't scare me—I'll wear that shock collar' bit? Real cool." Sam smiles at him.

He tries to smile back, really. They crack jokes about Danny's ghost fights all the time. Danny's fights. Sam and Tucker are always there to have his back, of course. They always have his back and do their fair share of fighting, but when it comes down to it, Danny is usually the only one in serious danger. Even when Tucker and the other campers got kidnapped. Danny had been worried and scared for them, but they weren't hurt. Sam, though... Sam could have been.

Danny sometimes lives through those few seconds over and over again when he lies in his bed at night. That's all it had been—a few seconds. A few steps. Walker, with the collar in his hands, turning away from Danny and reach out to Sam instead. He had never been so scared in his life, not even when he faced down Pariah Dark. He's used to being in the line of fire, but he's not used to his friends being in it.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Sam asks.

Danny shakes his head. "Nothing, I just—it's nothing."

Sam gets up, taking care not to rock the canoe too much. She kneels in front of Danny's bench and grabs his hand. "What's wrong?"

Danny bites his lip. It's silly. The danger has come and gone. There's nothing for him to fret about anymore. But if that's true, then why does he keep thinking of it? They're nearing the halfway point of summer, a month since Walker happened, and Danny can't let it go.

"When... when Walker had that collar," Danny begins softly. "Yeah, I wasn't scared at first. I know we talked about it right after it happened. You're important to me—so is Tucker. But..." He thinks hard about how he wants to explain himself. "It's different. Between you and Tucker. Not that it's any less! You're both my best friends and you're equally important to me, but it's... it's different. And when I saw Walker reaching out for you with that collar, and I couldn't stop him, I thought..."

Danny turns Sam's hand over in his. He cradles it between his palms like something precious. She has a lot of callouses on her fingers. He traces them with her thumbs. He knows where she got each one. The callous on the inside of her index finger is from pulling triggers all the time. The hard pad on her thumb is from the sharp edges buttons on Fenton Works tech usually have—a downside of the sleek metal design. There's a row of rough patches on the top of her palm from gardening, hours spent holding trowels and spades as she plants things.

Danny knows these hands as well as he knows his own.

"I mean, I knew I wasn't going to lose you. There's no way I would let that happen." There's no sun on his face, but Danny feels hot suddenly. He ducks his head, trying to hide the blush. "But I thought that I couldn't let something happen to you without... without telling you that I like you."

Danny watches the water. He means to wait for Sam's reply, but after the first few seconds of silence, he can't bear it.

"I mean, I know that's not the greatest time to think something like that. I was worried you would be hurt, obviously! I wasn't just thinking 'oh no, I never told Sam I loved her' because that would be kind of selfish if that was the only thing going through my head right then. But it really stuck out because I didn't even know I liked you. Obviously, I do, and I have for a while, but I didn't know it until the whole Walker thing and now—"

Sam snorts.

"Are you laughing at me?"

She is. She totally is. Sam sucks her lips in. Her shoulders shake from the effort of holding it in, but she is laughing at him.

"Hey, I'm kind of trying to confess here, and being laughed at doesn't help my confidence."

"Danny." Sam pushes herself up onto her knees and grabs the back of Danny's head. "You're an idiot."

She yanks him down and kisses him. Danny flails. Is this happening? It's not a fake-out of some kind? He finds himself scanning the water, just in case, but who would they be faking out anyway?

This is really. Holy shit. This is real. Sam is kissing him.

Sam pulls back. "I'm trying to make out here and not being kissed back really doesn't help me confi—"

Danny throws himself forward. Sam shrieks with laughter as they fall back into the middle of the canoe. He presses his lips to hers and she eagerly kisses him back. They break apart every few seconds, giggling as if they can't believe this is happening. In the back of his mind, Danny is thankful for Valerie and Elliot. He knows his first few kisses with Valerie kind of sucked; he's sure Sam's first kiss with Elliot couldn't have been much better. This is kind of awesome, though.

"Alright, campers!" Lancer's voice carries over the lake. "It's time to dock! Dinner is in twenty minutes, which gives you enough time to shower and change, and then you have an hour of free time before the starlight hike!"

Danny and Sam separate. He has to brace himself on the side of the boat to keep his weight off of her. Sam's dark hair splays out around her head like a shadowy halo. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are bright.

"You're really pretty," Danny mumbles.

Her face gets even redder. "We should head in."

Somewhere nearby, the other campers start rowing their boats in. The sound of splashing oars comes from all around them. Before Danny can get up, something thunks into the side of their boat.

"Watcha doing?" Tucker drawls.

Danny practically jumps out of the canoe as he launches himself back off of Sam. She jerks upright, sliding back to her seat near the front. Tucker grins at them from his canoe. Behind him, Mikey rolls his eyes.

"Oh, hey guys. Real choppy today. We kind of fell off our seats," Danny says. There is not even a breeze to ruffle his hair, much less work up the water. "Where's Lester?"

"He got stuck with Lancer since he can't swim," Mikey says.

"That's cool. Guess we better head in for dinner, huh? A shower sounds nice."

"Yeah. A nice cold one," Tucker says.

Sam clears her throat. "Tucker, I will put you into the aquarium."

Tucker lets out a strained chuckle and wipes a nervous sweat from his forehead. "Mikey, away!"

Mikey groans. Pulling at their oars, he slowly rows them away. Tucker's smug face disappears into the fog. Danny and Sam wait until they can't even see the silhouette of Tucker's boat before moving.

They separate at the shore, heading for their respective cabins. Danny has to fight to keep his feet his feet planted on the ground. It takes an impressive amount of willpower. Giddiness courses through him, making his body feel light. He wants to take off into the sky and scream his joy at the top of his lungs but that would turn too many heads. He settles for a goofy smile instead

—

The hike that night takes them to an outlook where Lancer makes them stop and stargaze. He has a whole lesson on constellations planned out. However, Danny knows more about stars than his teacher could ever hope to learn, and Sam has Danny, so she doesn't need to learn about stars from Lancer. They sneak away the first chance they get, disappearing into the trees and finding a sizeable pine to hide behind.

They almost miss Lancer's call to head back to camp. It isn't until Tucker calls out, "Hey, anyone seen Danny or Sam?" that they realized they have been missing too long. They re-enter the clearing through opposite sides, brushing twigs and pine needles from their clothes.

"Sorry, I had to go to the bathroom," Danny says.

"So did I," Sam says.

Paulina pulls a disgusted face. "Ew, out in the woods? So gross."

"Oh, good. I was worried a monster got you or something," Tucker says. Danny and Sam jab their elbows into his sides. He doubles over with a wheeze. "Worth it."

—

A twig snaps somewhere in the distance. Danny blames it on the local wildlife. There must be some kind of wildlife around here, even though Camp Eerie looks like that place all things go to die. He hopes it's wildlife, otherwise he and Sam should probably stop kissing right now if they don't want to get caught.

No other sounds follow, though. Good.

Sam presses him against the back wall of the cabin. His hands rest on her waist, against her bare skin. Never before has Danny been so happy that Sam wears crop tops all the time. Slowly, he raises his hands higher, until he can feel the hem of her shirt and beneath that, the fabric of her sports bra.

Before he can even think of doing anything indecent, a flashlight shines right in his face. Danny reels back with a cry of shock, releasing Sam to shade his eyes.  "What the hell?"

"Wow, that's bright." The light flashes away, illuminating Tucker. He stands at the corner of the cabin. "I was blinded for a second. What are you guys doing here in the middle of the night?"

Not quite the middle of the night. The rest of the campers are sitting around the fire telling scary stories. Anything they can come up with is rather underwhelming when compared to the start of summer. Danny and Sam both agreed they had better things to do elsewhere.

Namely, make out behind the nearest cabin.

"Looking for gross stuff to hide in Paulina's makeup bag," Sam says without hesitation. She has already smoothed out her clothes and hair. Danny stares at her in awe. How can she compose herself so quickly? It must be a super-power. He rushes to straighten out his shirt.

"Cool, can I help?" Tucker asks.

"Uh–"

"Hey, look, a frog!"

Danny and Sam share a helpless look, resigning themselves to Tucker's presence. Or they could simply tell him what they were doing. Tucker has been pestering them for years about their feelings. He would probably be ecstatic if Danny said he finally confessed. But Sam shakes her head with a devilish smile. Danny already knows what she's thinking without her saying anything.

For now, they'll keep things to themselves. There's something thrilling about trying to sneak around, anyway.

—

It becomes a game. How long can they be gone for before someone notices? Better yet, how long before anyone catches them? They never actually talk about what it is that they're doing. It's certainly not dating, but it's hard to have a proper date while you're at summer camp anyway. They like each other. They like making out. As long as they're stuck at Lake Eerie, that's all there is to it. The rest can come after, once summer ends and they're back home.

The hardest day comes when they wake up one morning to a heavy downpour. Lancer cancels all planned activities for the day and confines everyone to the mess hall.

"Do whatever, just don't wreck the place." He must have had something great planned for the day if a little rain bums him out that much.

The thing about the mess hall is that there isn't a lot of private space. Or any unless you sneak into the kitchen or hide away in the bathrooms. But the kitchen is off-limits and people need the bathrooms. They end up hiding beneath a table in the corner of the room. The tablecloth does a decent job hiding them, not that they need it that day. Danny sits with his arm wrapped around Sam's shoulder, her head resting on him as they listen to music. With Dumpty Humpty blasting in their ears and the rain outside, it makes a nice atmosphere. They still steal the occasional kiss, but today is a good day just to spend time together.

"You think Tucker knows?" Danny asks.

"I did at first, but he would have brought it up by now," Sam says.

Good point. "He's the one who finds us the most, though."

During hikes. When they're at the lake. Any time Danny tries to sneak out of his cabin at night. For the last two weeks, Tucker seems to always be there when Danny and Sam find a moment alone.

"Who else is going to look for us?" Sam says. "And to be fair, we have kind of been leaving him out. He's still our best friend. We should probably talk to him anyway.

Another good point. She's so smart. That's why Danny loves her.

Danny's breath hitches.

"Danny?" Sam prods his shoulder.

"I'm fine." His voice cracks. Wow. What a way to have such a revelation. Under a dining hall table at Lake Eerie of all places. The setting is underwhelming, but the scene...

Danny peers down at Sam. Her hair is a mess because the humidity makes it all frizzy. The clothes she wears are only a step up from her pyjamas, a pair of sweatpants and a flannel shirt over her sports bra. Every once in a while, she picks flakes of her nail polish off before going back to drumming on Danny's thigh. She sings along to the song under her breath, her face scrunching as she matches the intensity of the music while still keeping quiet.

Yeah. Danny loves her.

—

The rest of summer camp goes on like that. The game continues, but it becomes less about not getting caught and more about spending time together. Whenever they go canoeing, they find the foggiest part of the lake to settle in. During camp activities, they keep to themselves. At night, they slip out of their cabins and watch the stars together.

Tucker still finds ways to interrupt them, though. It happens often enough that Danny starts feeling bad for leaving him out. But when Danny tries to apologize to him, Tucker just stares.

"What are you talking about?" he asks.

"Um, I didn't want you to think we had forgotten about you or something," Danny says.

Tucker cocks his head. "What do you mean?"

"Because Sam and I– because we've been–" Danny doesn't know how to explain it without spilling the truth.

"What about you and Sam?" Tucker's gaze is filled with such innocence. Such genuine confusion.

Danny has to power walk away, his ears turning scarlet. "Nothing! It's fine, we aren't doing anything. Carry on!"

He misses the sharp grin that Tucker's wide-eyed expression falls into the second his back is turned.

—

The last day of camp comes far too soon for Danny's liking, or not soon enough. He honestly can't decide how he feels. The summer has been fun, even if he spent it trapped in a cabin with Dash and Kwan. Then again, the fun will keep going once they're home.

Never mind, he wishes camp had ended weeks ago so they could get back to sunny skies. Danny doesn't want to see another cloud as long as he lives.

After breakfast, everyone works to load up the bus. Dash takes charge, grabbing people's bags and shoving them into the luggage compartment since he's the strongest. At least as far as he knows. Danny would like to see him try and carry the aquarium for half a mile when it's full of twenty people in suspended animation.

"Too bad we never found a fish to put in there," Danny muses. He would have liked to see what would happen.

"Oh, so that's what you were doing all that time out on the lake, huh?" Dash asks.

"Excuse me?"

Dash snatches Danny's bag from his hands and chucks it into the luggage compartment none too gently. "If you and Manson even think of making googly eyes at each other on the bus, the first thing I'm doing when we get home is wailing on your ass."

"Uh... why would we do that?"

Dash raises his eyebrows. "Really, Fentonio?"

Paulina comes up beside Danny and passes her bag to Dash. "Please, I'm tired of seeing nerds kiss."

"What?!"

Tucker snickers behind him. "Dude... you hid behind trees and stuff. Making out in a bush is not subtle."

Danny splutters. His gaze jumps from camper to camper. Everyone is staring at him and Sam, nodding at Tucker's words. Sam makes a miserable noise in the back of her throat. She drops her head against Danny's shoulder and lets out a muffled scream.

"Oh, my God." Danny hides his face in Sam's hair. "Why did no one tell us?"

Tucker waggles his fingers. "One hour of free movie time for every accidental stumble across your make-out sessions. It was the only way to keep their mouths shut."

"Tucker! Why!"

"You were trying so hard. It was adorable."

"Why did you keep interrupting us?!"

"Uh, because I'm your best friend and you didn't tell me? Come on, dude. I had to get some kind of revenge." Tucker pats Danny's shoulder as he passes him.

"If it's any consolation, you guys are actually, like, sort of cute together," Paulina says.

Danny and Sam lean on each other, wallowing in their shared misery as everyone else loads onto the bus. This is it. This is how he dies. Not from one of Skulker's bazookas or Val's rockets, but embarrassment.

Tetslaff's large hands come down on their shoulders. She pulls Danny and Sam apart and shoves them toward the bus. "Alright, lovebirds. It's boarding time." She shoves Danny into the first seat on the right, next to Lancer, while Sam ends up sitting beside Tetslaff.

"Why are we sitting here?" Danny asks.

Lancer stares down at him. "You know why."

Danny sinks in his seat and buries his face in his hands. Lake Eerie is officially his least favourite place in the world.

—

Prompt by @ghostgothgeek: Danny and Sam’s relationship blossoms after the events of Claw of the Wild. What happens during the rest of summer camp, and how much do their classmates remember? (PR278)

#phic phight #phic phight 2022 #unluckyalis #danny phantom #phicc #phanfic #danny phantom fanfiction #tumblroneshots #danny fenton #amethyst ocean #sam manson #claw of the wild

[kinglazrus]

In Case of Emergency

Chapter 13: The Best-Laid Plans

Previous | Final chapter | AO3 | FFN

Chapter Summary: Danny, Lancer, and Dr. Alejo make a plan. Too bad the GIW are already here.

Chapter word count: 4107

—

Danny paces back and forth across the morgue floor. He hasn't stopped moving since the doctor revealed that last horrifying fact. The Guys in White are on their way. Stupid half-ghost body with its stupid healing ectoplasm. It couldn't have let him die? He winces as soon as the thought crosses his mind. He doesn't really mean that. Dying sucks. He's already done it once. Or twice, now. So it did let him die, but it didn't let him stay dead. Danny is okay with that, but he wishes that it didn't happen in such an inconvenient way.

According to the doctor, his chart didn't reveal much about what the surgeon saw when poking around his insides. A foreign substance. A lot of it? A little? Did it bubble and fester around his intestines? Did it heal the cuts they made as they were making them? Increasingly grotesque images pop into his head until all he can imagine is a stew of bubbling ectoplasm filling him up inside. They had been able to finish the surgery without issue, so Danny hopes his wild imagination is just that: wildly imaginative.

"I could barely get you open without the ectoplasm melting my tools. Whatever they saw, it can't have been as bad as what I saw," the doctor says.

Danny's stomach flips. Get you open. She says it casually as if it's another day at the office for her. It sort of is. She's studying to be a morgue doctor. Autopsies are, or at least will be, a routine procedure for her. She was just doing her job and trying to find out what killed him. It still makes Danny sick to think about. The idea of anyone leaning over his open body cavity and poking around his insides chills him. He wraps his arms around his stomach and shudders, fighting back the urge to vomit.

It's not just the attempted autopsy that scares him, but the surgery as well. His fingers dig into his stomach, tracing the raised skin of his new scars. The doctor's Y incision overlaps with the surgical incision, leaving a single scar. He was cut open and examined twice in one day. He got lucky, being unconscious both times, but isn't willing to test that luck against the Guys in White. Not again.

Danny pivots to face Lancer and the doctor. "I can't let them take me. They'll—you don't even want to know what they'll do to me." He doesn't even want to know what they'll do to him. But, thanks to his parents and their tendency to ramble, he has a good idea of what's in store. Pulling things apart molecule by molecule may be standard practice in the ghost hunting industry for all he knows.

There's only one thing left he can do.

"I'm leaving." The transformation rings make it halfway across his chest before Danny's body jolts and he drops to his knees. His heart throbs in his chest. He can feel the beat in his fingers, the back of his head, behind his eyes. Despite being in human form, he glimpses his aura spiking all around him. He has no idea what it's saying, has no control over it, but the light soothes him. He focuses on the pale glow until his breathing evens out and the thrumming fades. The light goes with it. Now calm enough to pay attention to his surroundings again, he notices the doctor and Lancer crouched on either side of him. Their hands keep him steady.

"Are you alright?" Lancer squeezes Danny's shoulder.

"Where does it hurt?" the doctor pulls out her penlight and flashes it in Danny's eyes. He never even noticed her retrieve it from the floor.

"Will you stop that!" He smacks her hand down. "I'm fine—I think." His limbs shake too much for him to stand up on his own. He leans on Lancer instead, letting his teacher pull him up and guide him onto the autopsy table. Danny perches on the edge.

"Everything aches still but it doesn't hurt. But when I tried to use my powers—" Danny rubs his chest. He doesn't know what that had been. It wasn't like the stabbing pain he felt earlier that day. That had been his heart—he thinks. This felt deeper. Different. If he has to guess, he would say it felt like his core. He holds his arm out and turns it invisible. The thrumming in the back of his head gets louder, but not unbearable. The invisibility spreads over his shoulder, his chest, until his whole body is out of sight. His head swims and it's hard to focus through the noise, but it doesn't bring him to his knees again.

"I can use my powers, but it looks like full ghost form is a no-go." Danny clenches his fist. "I'm still getting out of here."

"Danny, wait." Lancer stops Danny from sliding off the table with a hand to his chest.  "You can't just leave.

"Uh, yeah, I can. I'm not staying here so that I can get dissected again." He'll figure something out.

"But your parents."

"Don't know anything."

"Exactly. And they're on their way."

Danny's eyebrows shoot up. He highly doubts that. His mom said they were going out of town. That's code either for an extended ghost hunt or experimenting with dangerous weapons that they can't safely test inside the city limits. His parents already do a poor job of checking their phones. If you put them out in the wilderness with nothing but their ghost weapons and plenty of open space, then checking on their children will be the last thing on their minds.

"If you leave now, the only news they will get when they arrive is that you died and then your body disappeared," Lancer says.

Danny frowns. That's not ideal, but there must be a way around it. He asks, "They could just not come, right? I could go home and pretend nothing ever happened." Chances are, his mom and dad won't check their phones until they're already home. It wouldn't be hard to slip the phones from their pockets and delete the missed calls, leaving them none the wiser.

The doctor shakes her head. "You were declared dead hours ago. It's already in the hospital records. Lancer confirmed your identity before they took you down to the morgue. Going home and not acknowledging it would appear even more strange."

Danny's gaze jumps to Lancer. His teacher stares at him, unflinching.

"Too many people saw you and your body for us to play this off as an accident," the doctor says.

"Then, you can tell them I'm alive. I freaked out and ran away or something like that."

Again, she shakes her head. "I wasn't even supposed to have your body. My shift ended hours ago. Amity Park has been through some wild things, but I don't think anyone would believe that. Besides, you want to go home eventually, right?"

Danny doesn't know how to answer that right now. The simple answer is yes, or it should be. He should want to go home. Does he, though? What is home right now? An empty house ninety percent of the time. Disapproving parents the other ten percent. With Jazz gone, it's not the same.

"Danny?" Lancer presses.

Whatever his parents learn when they arrive, they'll tell Jazz. Danny would never ghost her—or his friends—without letting them know that he's okay, but if he can't access his full range of powers right now, then he can't go to Jazz himself to tell her. He doesn't have his phone, doesn’t have any of their numbers memorized. If he runs away now, he can't know when he will be able to speak to them next without risking the Guys in White coming down on them.

"I couldn’t do that to Jazz," he says. Or Sam. Or Tucker. "I want to be able to go home, for her."

"Then we need to be smart about this," the doctor says.

"We?"

"Somehow you keep forgetting that you're my patient. Ghost or human, it doesn't matter. Your health is my priority now."

"Except when you're cutting me open," Danny mutters.

"Let's call that the exception that proves the rule." The doctor nods, looking satisfied with herself.

"That's not how that works," Lancer says.

"Are you sure? I hear people say that a lot."

"As an educator, I can assure you that you're wrong."

"Hm, I don't think so."

Now isn't the time for bickering, but Lancer and the doctor sniping back and forth over something so simple and stupid fills Danny with warmth. They remind him of Sam and Tucker, and all of their stupid arguments. Real vs fake plants is the latest one Danny remembers overhearing. Danny muffles his laughter in his palm.

"I feel sorry for all of your teachers," Lancer says.

The doctor shrugs. "You and me both. That's not what matters right now, though. How far outside of town is the Guys in White facility?"

"It can't be far, can it?" Lancer asks.

"Three hours at the speeds they drive," Danny says. "Don't ask me how I know."

"I would very much like to know how you know that."

"Don't worry about it." Lancer does indeed appear worried, staring intently at Danny. He kicks his feet and looks anywhere that isn't at his teacher.

"Three hours. Your surgery ended sometime after eleven. Someone would have called them around then. It's," the doctor checks her watch, "Two twenty-three now. They'll be here soon."

"That doesn't give us much time to figure something out," Lancer says.

"Then that's our goal, right?" Danny glances between Lancer and the doctor. "We just need to buy enough time."

—

Carmen smiles at a passing nurse. "Afternoon." She speaks between puffs of breath. It's surprisingly easy to work up a sweat while jogging in place. Carmen was worried she wouldn't be able to do it, but she is only five minutes in and already running out of breath. Maybe that says more about her fitness level than the effectiveness of the task. It works either way. The nurse, a slip of a woman with mousy features, gives her an odd look.

"Got to stay limber." Carmen drops into a squat and stretches out her legs.

The nurse shakes her head as she rounds the corner.

Carmen waits a few seconds to make sure the nurse is gone before popping back up. By now, her cheeks are flushed and her heart pounds in her chest. Creeping forward, she peers around the same corner the nurse disappeared around and locates her target. There, leaning against the nurses' station, is the morgue attending. Carmen ducks out of sight before anyone can notice her. She only has one chance to sell this. For good measure, she pulls a few curls out of her ponytail and shakes her head vigorously to get a few flyaways. Now she's ready.

"He's alive!" Carmen cries out. "Oh, my God, he's alive!" She charges around the corner and runs straight for the morgue attending, nearly bowling him over.

The older man stumbles under Carmen's weight but holds her steady. "Alejo? What are you still doing here? What are you going on about?"

"The– the Fenton boy." Carmen hunches over, bracing herself on her knees as she struggles to catch her breath for real. "He was– his teacher. Asked to see the body. Say goodbye." She needs to exercise more. "I thought it would be okay, you know? He just– just wanted to see him. I brought him down there but– but– Danny Fenton is alive!"

The attending's eyes widen. "Show me."

Internally, Carmen moans at having to run more. Externally, she nods and charges back down the hallway. They jog to the stairs, forgoing the slow elevator, and head down to the basement. Carmen leads him to the morgue. Not Phantom's morgue at the end of the hall, but the newly renovated one that the hospital actually uses. She throws open the door, revealing Danny sitting on the floor next to an open body drawer—the same drawer Carmen took him from less than an hour ago.

Lancer crouches next to Danny with a hand on his shoulder.

"What's going on?" Danny's voice trembles.

"Holy shit." The attending rushes forward to check Danny's vitals. He presses a hand to Danny's neck and starts counting beats while watching his watch. "Do you know where you are?"

"The hospital. I don't know which one," Danny says.

The attending nods. "Amity West. Do you know your name?"

"Danny Fenton. Is there something wrong with me?"

The attending doesn't answer. He rushes through a routine check of Danny's health, listening to his breathing, looking for signs of concussion, testing his mental state with various questions. "What's today's date?"

"I don’t know. My head hurts and everything is kind of fuzzy."

The attending leans back, bracing himself on his knee. "Fuzzy how?"

"Like... the last few days are hazy. I can't..." Danny presses a hand to his head. "I can't remember. Can I go home?"

Carmen has to admit that she doubted Danny's ability to pull off this charade. He might have experience maintaining two different personas, but she found out his secret within an hour of meeting him. That doesn't inspire much confidence. Double life or not, he's still a teenager. How good could his acting be? Pretty damn good, apparently. Although, in Carmen's opinion, he's laying it on a little thick with all the shaking.

"No, not yet," the attending cuts in. "We some people who are here to see you. There's no easy way to put this, but you died today, Danny."

Danny whimpers. He glances at Carmen again and says, "I want to go home." His voice cracks. Maybe it isn't all acting.

"Is that really okay?" Lancer asks. "He just woke up. We don't want to overwhelm him."

"Dr. Alejo, can you please go find a wheelchair? I want to bring Danny up to an examination room. We should check his incision and make sure he's okay before the Guys in White get involved," the attending says.

Carmen throws herself forward, stepping between Danny and the attending. "I did that already! He's all bandaged up. His stitches are fine. I don't think you need to look at them right now."

"Alejo, I'll decide that for myself. Get him upstairs and situated while I go talk to the GIW."

She wants to argue further, but the attending fixes her with a sharp glare. Perhaps literally throwing herself between him and the patient hadn't been a good idea, but she can't let him see Danny's healed chest

"Yes, sir," Carmen says. She speeds out of the room. The attending follows behind her. Once they're out in the hall again, he puts a hand on her shoulder and stops her.

"Keep a close eye on him. I saw his body myself when it was first brought down here. Whatever happened is a miracle, but that all depends on if that really is Danny Fenton in there. Got it?"

Carmen swallows her nerves and nods. When she heads back into the morgue, Danny is hugging his knees and shaking.

"This isn't going to work," he says.

"It is," Carmen reassures him. She grabs a wheelchair from the corner of the room—one she put there for precisely this reason—and brings it over. "You just need to do exactly as we planned, and it'll be okay."

"Danny." Lancer kneels in front of Danny and places his hands on the boy's shoulders. "I am not going to let anything happen to you, okay? You are my favourite student, after all."

"I call bullshit on that."

"Language."

Danny gets settled in the chair. He still has Carmen's jacket, now draped over his lap rather than around his shoulders. She hasn't bothered asking for it back yet. He looks like he could use a little comfort right about now. The examination rooms are on the second floor. Usually, the hospital uses these rooms for patient check-ups or as extra space if the emergency room fills up. The staff elevator by the morgue opens up around the corner from the examination rooms when it hits the second floor. Carmen, Lancer, and Danny exit on the first floor. Danny ducks his head as they head for the lobby, twisting the arm of Carmen's jacket in his hands.

"Head up, kid," Carmen reminds him.

Danny stiffly raises his head.

Lancer pulls a face at Carmen. "I know it's not fun being paraded around, but people need to see you," he says to Danny. "The more people, the better."

"Right. So there are more witnesses when the GIW come and take me away," Danny mutters.

"That's not going to happen."

Carmen wants to believe Lancer's words. It's hard when the first thing she sees as they reach the lobby is two broad-shouldered men in white suits. All three of them freeze. The agents are angled away from them, talking to the attending. Carmen had hoped they still had time before the agents arrived. It seems Danny's return to life is the only miracle they're getting that day. The lobby elevators are to the left, only a few paces away, but it puts them parallel to the agents. A turn of the head is all it would take to see them.

Danny sits completely rigid, gripping the armrests as if they're the only things holding him up. Lancer recovers first. He steps around Carmen, moving to her right side so that his body acts as a barrier between Danny and the agents. Slowly, they make their way to the elevators. This time, Carmen doesn’t tell Danny to lift his head. Enough hospital staff saw them on the way over, anyways.

Lancer hits the call button the instant it's within reach. The numbers over the door light up one by one as the elevator comes down. Fifth floor. Fourth floor.

Carmen can't resist. She glances over her shoulder at the agents. The taller of the two is staring right at them. Carmen's head snaps forward. Maybe he isn't paying attention. Maybe he hasn't seen Danny yet. There are hundreds of patients in this hospital and there's no way he could know who is in the chair right now.

Third floor. Second floor.

"Excuse me," a deep voice says.

Carmen goes rigid. The agent isn't touching her, but he stands so close that she can feel him. It makes the back of her neck prickle. She looks back at him and gets a face full of his jacket. She has to tilt her head back to meet the agent's gaze. Damn him for being so tall. And damn her genetics for making her so short.

"Is that Daniel Fenton?" the agent asks.

Carmen's jaw clenches. Is it illegal to lie to the Guys in White? "No, it's—"

"Yes, he is," the attending interrupts her, coming up behind them. The second agent follows right after him.

Carmen ducks her head as the tall agent glowers at her.

"We were called in about an anomaly," he says.

"Well, as you can see, this is a boy who has had a very long day and is very tired. Look, he's even asleep," Lancer says. A peek at Danny reveals he has slumped over in the wheelchair, head tipped forward. His chest rises and falls with the gentle rhythm of sleep.

The elevator dings and the doors open.

"Then you won't mind us coming up with you," the agent says.

Carmen can't think of an argument against that. She catches Lancer's eye. He shakes his head. They can't say no without tipping the agent off somehow. They pile into the elevator. There's plenty of room since hospital elevators have to fit gurneys and medical equipment, but Carmen feels stifled. She stands at the back of the elevator with Danny. Lancer once again puts himself between them and the agents, forcing the two men away. It's hardly subtle, but no one speaks up about it. Just as well. The ride is only a few seconds, but Carmen sweats a little more every time the agent turns his head to look at her. She squeezes the handles of the wheelchair tight to keep her hands from trembling.

The second the doors are open, she rushes out with Lancer on her heels. The heavy steps of the agents follow right behind.

"As I told you, he's our patient before he's yours. We need to do a thorough examination before we let you do anything," the attending says.

"Of course. I'm sure you won't mind us watching, though, would you? Just to make sure there's nothing amiss," the tall agent says.

Carmen stops outside the first open examination room and rounds on the agent. "You can't."

"Excuse me?"

"Patient confidentiality. You aren't his family. We can't have you in the room during any medical procedures."

"We're here for—"

"Are you arresting him or something? Is he being detained?"

The agent's eyes narrow. "Not yet."

"Then you can't come in." Carmen nods to Lancer, who opens the door for her and lets her inside. She quickly wheels Danny in.

"Have a little decency, would you?" Lancer glowers at the agent. The door slams behind him. The sound of ragged breathing fills the room immediately. Danny presses a trembling hand to his mouth.

"You said it would be okay." His voice cracks.

"It will be." Lancer rubs circles on Danny's back.

"This isn't okay."

"Not yet."

Carmen bites her lip. She wants to stay positive, but she's starting to go with Danny on this. The agents are here. She thought they would have time, at least a few minutes, but this is seconds. This is negative seconds. They're not running out of time, the clock has already stopped. She's not ready to give up, though. Danny is her patient and she would sooner throw herself at the Guys in White than let them take him.

"We have a plan. Stick to the plan, and it will be fine." She can't tell who she's trying to comfort with her words, Danny or herself.

There's a knock on the door. "Dr. Alejo," the attending calls through.

"I'll be right back," Carmen says. She ruffles Danny's hair before slipping out of the room, coming nose to chest with the tall agent once again. "Thank you for respecting my personal space."

The agent sniffs in distaste but obliges and steps back. Beside him, the attending stands with his arms crossed and a disapproving scowl on his face.

"The agents here have the right to step in on any procedure," he says. "The Guys in White are a government branch. They have jurisdiction over all ghostly threats. Even if that threat looks like a sixteen-year-old boy."

"This might shock you, but he doesn't just look like a teenage boy. He is a teenage boy. Weird how that works, right?"

"Dr. Alejo!" the attending snaps. "You already broke hospital policy by allowing a non-staff member down into the morgue, much less someone who isn't even related to the boy. He doesn't have parental consent."

"No one has parental consent. His parents aren't even here! I don't care where these thugs came from; Danny has a right to privacy."

"Ma'am." The agent steps forward again. Carmen has to take a step back, until she's up against the door, to avoid a mouthful of his suit jacket. "If we think you are getting in the way of us doing our job, we have the right to detain you."

Carmen glares up at the agent. She refuses to be intimidated. It's hard not to be, though, when he's a foot taller than her and twice as broad. No matter. She won't back down first.

There's a cry of pain from the examination room. The agent tries to shove past her to get to the door. she stumbles backwards when it opens, tripping over the empty wheelchair. It takes her a second to gather herself from the floor. The two agents make a wall of white, blocking her off from the rest of the room. She kicks the wheelchair, sending it into the back of the agents' legs. They let out satisfying yelps of pain as the wheelchair rams into them. It makes them stumble, opening up a gap in the wall for Carmen to peek through.

Lancer lays on the floor, unconscious. Blood dribbles from a small cut on his forehead.

Danny is nowhere to be found.

—

Final chapter

#phic phight #phic phight 2022 #unluckyalis #danny phantom #lancer #mentor lancer #parental lancer #in case of emergency #phicc #phanfic #danny phantom fanfiction #tumblroneshots

[kinglazrus]

Dead Man Walking

Phic Phight | AO3 | FFN

Submitted by @syrren: Instead of making him half-dead, the portal accident makes Danny unable to die. This....changes things.

(or: how canon changes if the accident leaves Danny with deadpool-style regeneration abilities to make for a horrifyingly self-sacrificing vigilante, or with some kind of reset ability every time he dies to equally horrifying implications)

Summary: The accident changes Danny in ways he never thought possible. Sam and Tucker watch him fall from the portal dead and burnt beyond recognition, but he doesn't stay dead for long. He never stays dead. Of all the things Danny expected to happen when he walked into that portal, getting unlimited regeneration wasn't one of them, but now that he has it, he's going to put it to good use. Deadpool AU.

Word count: 3606

The first time Danny dies, his friends bear witness. They will never forget the ominous whirr of the portal as it turned on, the warning crackle of electricity, the final throat-tearing scream of their best friend. There are other things, too, that burned into their minds that day. How his body hit the floor of the lab with a thud, burnt beyond recognition, burnt so bad there wasn't any blood. How it smelled, to their horror, not so different from charred barbecue.

They like to pretend that part never happened. It's easy when all they need to do is call his phone and hear his voice, unaffected by the savage electrical heat that brought him to ruin that day. When he doesn't stay dead, it's not hard to pretend he never died at all. It took minutes for his body to fix itself, blackened skin overtaken by fresh pink muscle, which then sprouted new skin, perfectly unblemished.

Even the scar he got when he was fell off his bike at six years old disappeared.

"I liked that scar," Danny says, pouting when he finally notices its absence three days later.

"I don't think that's the right thing to get hung up," Sam says.

"But it looked like a spaceship!"

"I always thought it looked like an upside-down nine," Tucker muses.

"Or six," Sam says.

"Upside down nine is more fun."

They proceed like this for three weeks, mentioning the accident only in the lightest of terms, joking about their new, shared trauma. They are content to move on with their lives, forget it happened, go on as normal high schoolers. Until Danny dies again.

—

"What do you mean you don't want to hunt ghosts?" Jack exclaims. He gapes down at the trio, wholeheartedly baffled by this confession.

"I'll stick with tech, thanks," Tucker says, holding up his phone.

"Ghosts just aren't cool anymore," Sam says.

"Can I go back upstairs now?" Danny asks. At his question, Sam and Tucker fall silent. None of them make eye contact, and neither do they look toward the portal innocently humming only a few feet away. Danny is very aware that this is his first time in the lab since the accident. The same thought runs through Sam and Tucker's minds.

Jack doesn't notice the sudden change in mood. "Nonsense, Danno! You love ghosts. Why, I remember when you were just a tyke, you wanted to be a ghost when you grew up." He clenches his fist. "It was unacceptable. But that's okay! You can hunt them instead!"

He turns his back on Danny and his friends, eagerly going over the array of tools laid out on the counter. Ghost detectors, ecto-guns, protective shield, and an empty space where a thermos should be. "I forgot the best part! Wait right here, kids." Jack charges upstairs, leaving the kids alone.

Danny glances at the portal, unable to suppress a shiver. "You think he'd notice if I snuck away?"

"Nuh-uh, if you go, we go, too," Tucker says.

No one gets to go. Two sets of slimy green tentacles poke through the portal, probing the empty air. Their soft bodies soon follow, revealing a pair of ghostly octopuses.

"Holy shit ghosts are real." That is all Tucker has time to say before the ghosts attack. They launch themselves forward, shrieking in excitement. One goes for Sam and the other charges Tucker. They try to jump out of the way, but the ghosts are faster. The ectopuses tentacles wrap around them, pinning their arms down.

"Danny!" Sam shouts.

In retrospect, a smarter person would have gone for the ecto-gun lying on the table, freshly loaded and ready for a demonstration. Or, they might have shouted for his father, a ghost hunter who has trained his entire life for this scenario. But Danny acts faster than he thinks. He dives toward Tucker, the closest of the two, and digs his fingers into the ghost's tentacles. It screams as Danny's nails dig into its flesh.

The ghost's body goes translucent. Tucker slips out of its grasp, dropping to the floor in a heap, but Danny's hold stays firm. The ectopus panics, thrashing and tugging, its flailing limbs cutting through Tucker over and over without harming him. No matter what the ectopus does, it can't shake Danny loose, and his nails are starting to cut.

"Dude, you're doing it!" Tucker says, too soon.

As it flails, one of the ectopus' tentacles smacks Danny in the face, making his head snap back. At that moment, he and the ghost have the same realization. If he can touch it, it can hurt him back. The ectopus gives another shriek and its remaining seven tentacles surge forward. They wrap around Danny's arms, his chest, curling so tight his bones ache. The last one closes around Danny's throat.

His throat, weak like the ghost's flesh, crumples in an instant. His air disappears. No sound leaves his mouth, not even a wheeze, and his eyes bulge as panic sets in.

"Danny!" Sam and Tucker scream. Sam struggles against her captor kicking and gnashing her teeth, but her boots can't reach its body. Tucker grabs Danny, tries to pull him away, to bat off the ghost’s grip, but it is no use. The ghost is too strong, and Tucker can't touch it in this state.

Danny loses focus of them, then. His brain goes fuzzy, everything blurring around him while his face grows hot. All he can feel is the burn, the ache, the need to breathe, breathe, breathe damn it! The haze of the ghost looming over him fills his vision, slowly overtaken by red, then black spots.

As everything goes dark, Danny's last thought is this:

I guess I'm dead after all.

—

He hears the sobbing first. It starts off quiet and distant, but quickly grows louder, great hiccupping coughs scattered between heart-wrenching cries.

"Mr. Fenton!" someone screams. It happens fast, after that. Thundering steps, a deep cry of shock and pain that cuts him to his core. A piercing whine followed by two quick blasts.

The ectopuses' retreating shriek cuts through Danny loud and clear. His eyes snap open and air rushes into his lungs, a hoarse, wheezing breath that he holds for a moment. Then he takes another, and another, and he's breathing again, and he's not anymore.

Sam and Tucker, kneeling at his side, cry out as one. They throw themselves on him, blubbering messes the both of them. Danny's father, facing the portal, turns disbelieving eyes on him.

Danny's gaze drops to his father's hand and the ecto-gun clutched in it. "Oh, right." The word scrapes against his throat. He swallows, twice, until speaking doesn't hurt and says, "I forgot we had the gun.

"Danny!" Jack dashes toward them, dropping to his knees beside Danny. Sam and Tucker scramble back, giving him room. "Are you alright? What happened? You looked..."

Dead.

Because he was. Again.

"I'm fine," Danny assures him. "Lost consciousness, that's all.

"Danny, your face was blu—" Tucker yelps when Sam punches him in the shoulder, cutting him off mid-sentence. He rubs the spot, shooting her an offended look, but Sam's eyes are only on Danny.

Danny nods, just enough that she can see, a silent thanks.

"I think you kids should go upstairs now." Jack's voice trembles. He raises his hand, about to run it through his hair, but stops when he sees the gun he's still holding. "I'll take care of things down here. Call your parents and all that."

For the first time, Danny notices the green splotches littering the floor and the wall. Probably from the ectopuses.

Sam loops an arm around Danny's shoulders, hoisting him up. He stumbles when he gets to his feet, bracing himself against her as the room spins. It settles after a few seconds, but he still feels a bit lightheaded. A side effect of choking, maybe?

Tucker helps from Danny's other side. They go up to Danny's room in silence, their steps thumping up the stairs. Only once they're safely behind his closed door, and Danny is lying on the bed, does Sam speak.

"You died again," she says.

Danny touches his throat. "Yeah." Pressing gently, he feels is no lingering pain. Just like before, he healed without a trace. "Can I just not die now?"

"More like you can't stay dead," Tucker says.

"Tucker!" Sam hisses.

"What? It's true! Sorry that I'm not handling seeing my friend die twice very well!"

"Be quiet!"

Danny cuts in before they can devolve into shouting. "Let's just leave it at two, okay?"

Sam and Tucker share a glance over Danny's prone form and nod. The weight of that action is lost on Danny, whose only thought is that he wants to sleep for a very long time.

—

The knives don't kill him. They hurt like hell, but they don't kill him. He sees them flying toward him and leaps out of the way. Something strikes him in the gut, a solid punch that blows the air from his lungs and knocks him back into the walls. He thinks one of the frozen steaks got him, but when he looks down, he sees the handle of a kitchen knife sticking out of his stomach.

He stares at it, stunned, not feeling anything at first. Then, his body jolts, like a shock of electricity is running through him, and his nerves scream, heat building, until every little twitch sends a jolt of pain so deep coursing through him that he can hardly breathe.

"Danny, look out!" Tucker, or Sam, he can't tell which, so lost in his pain, cry out a warning. Danny doesn't move in time and two more knives bury themselves in his body, another in his stomach, and the other through his chest. The Lunch Lady cackles with glee as Danny gurgles. The last knife got his lung, and he can feel it slowly filling.

The pound of Sam's boots on the tiles reaches his ears. She shouts something, but he doesn't hear it. Trembling, Danny grips the handle of the knife in his lungs. In first-aid, they tell you to leave whatever object stabbing you in. It keeps the wound plugged, stops you from bleeding out. But Danny's instincts cry out against everything he was ever taught.

Take them out! Take them out!

He braces himself, then yanks. It hurts so much worse coming out, now that he's aware of the pain, the sharp edge searing as it rips the wound wider. He drops the knife and goes for the next one. All three fall to the floor beside him with a clatter, their blades shiny and red. Danny can't breathe, can barely think through the pain. He presses a hand against his chest, feeling the wound beneath his shirt.

It stitches itself together beneath his fingers. The searing pain retreats, replaced by a dull ache. By the time Sam reaches him and rips his shirt open to see his wound, his chest is healed.

"Technically, I didn't die," Danny croaks.

Sam sobs, covering her mouth with her hand. There's relief in her eyes, beneath the horror, and she makes a noise that might be a laugh, choked and garbled as it is.

Danny dives back into the fight with renewed vigour. Twenty minutes and one Fenton Thermos later, the ghost is gone, but not before half the student body saw some bloody idiot fighting it bare-handed.

"Did you see who it was?" Dash whispers to his friends.

Danny, clean of blood and wearing his gym t-shirt, slumps against the wall nearby, listening. Someone called the police when meat started flying through the hallways, and they apparently called Danny's parents. Ghosts are real and everyone knows it now, but Danny doesn't care about that at the moment.

"No, man. I wasn't close enough," Kwan answers Dash.

"Whoever that was, he totally just saved us all," Paulina says. She clasps her hands together and leans against Star. "He's such a hero."

Hero. The word resonates with Danny. He can't explain it, but it pulls at him. A hero. The school is in chaos, the yard covered in raw meat, the hallways hacked and slashed, but everyone is safe and unharmed thanks to Danny.

"More like a dumbass," Sam mutters from Danny's left.

"Semantics," Tucker says.

Between them, Danny only grins.

—

Jack paces in front of the portal, a tub of fudge cradled in the crook of his arm. Every few steps, he grabs a square and pops it in his mouth, chewing furiously. Between bites, he mutters.

"I'm telling you, Mads. He must have been some kind of ghost," he says.

"I don't know, Jack." Maddie, staring at the computer screen, tilts her head. They managed to grab a few stills from the school's security footage of the figure who fought off the ghost, but they didn't come out right. The surroundings are a little grainy, but no more than a standard security camera, so they know there's nothing wrong with the film itself. The ghost, who called herself the Lunch Lady if Maddie remembers correctly, is little more than a green haze in the image. They expected this. Ghosts don't interact with most technology well, not unless it is designed to interact with them.

But the smaller figure is distorted, a twisted shadow obscuring their form. Not ghostly, but not human either.

She clicks to the next image, getting the same results.

"Are you saying it's a human?" Jack asks without breaking stride.

"It's humanoid, but I don't think it's human, either. Yet it bled, so it's not a ghost. And look at this." She closes the files, revealing a folder full of pictures, all of them taken over the past couple of weeks as ghost sightings increased. "They show up at most fights and leave lots of bodily fluids behind." Jiggling the mouse, she circles a series of four images with the courser, all pictures of significant blood splatters. "But the samples..."

As one, she and Jack turn to the sample tray sitting on the far counter. Where the blood is deep red in the pictures, the samples they took have slowly turned to a dark, murky brown, like thick mud. The oldest sample from the first sighting is black.

Jack grabs a handful of fudge and shoves it in his mouth. "Not to mention," he speaks around the chewy squares, "what does it do with the ghosts?"

The lab door squeaks as it opens. Maddie and Jack fall silent, gazes turning toward the stairs. A pair of red sneakers appears on the top step, creeping down, until the wearer slowly reveals themself. Their son, Danny, with what looks like a thermos clutched in his hand.

"Sweetie, are you only just getting home?" Maddie asks.

Danny yelps in surprise. He jerks the thermos behind his back and swivels to face his parents, freezing on the step. "Oh, hey. I didn't think you guys would be here..."

Maddie narrows her eyes. "What did you do, young man? You were supposed to be home from school an hour ago."

"Nothing! I just got held up." Danny tugs the collar of his jacket.

That's odd. Maddie doesn't remember him leaving with a jacket this morning. The sleeves drape over his hands, down to his knuckles, and he has the collar turned up to cover his neck. It must be cold outside, even though September is only just ending. "What held you up?"

"Uh, that's kind of why I thought you guys wouldn't be here? There was another ghost fight. It got pretty bad." He shifts, pressing his arm against his side. Is his jacket darker there, against his ribs?

"Another ghost?" Jack exclaims. He slaps the fudge down on the closest surface, rattling the test tube samples. "Mads, we gotta go! There might still be some evidence!"

Maddie's eyes widen. "Oh, shoot. You're right! We need fresh samples." They race to grab their equipment, snatching up sample gathering packs from their desks, and charge up the stairs.

Danny presses himself against the wall, offering them a nervous smile as they go. "Stay safe!" he calls. The front door slams as Maddie and Jack make their exit, leaving the house in silence. Still, Danny doesn't relax until he hears the rev of the Fenton RV and the familiar squeal of its tires against the pavement. His shoulders slump and he breathes a sigh of relief.

"That was close." Taking his hand out from behind his back, he looks down at the Fenton Thermos. "Now let's get you taken care of."

As he empties the thermos back into the Ghost Zone, his gaze wanders to the computer screen, still open to the photo evidence. Danny reads the title of the folder. "Challenger?" He snorts. "That's lame." As he skims the photos, a couple jump out at him. In most, he can barely make out the shape of his own body—something he tries not to think about—but in one or two, he can recognize the colours of his clothes beneath the distorting shadow.

Danny slaps the cap back onto the empty thermos before moving closer to the computer, frowning at the screen. "That might be a problem."

—

Danny stands in front of his friends, fists resting on his hips, and shows off his new look. "Well? What do you think?"

Tucker looks him up and down, body shaking as he suppresses his laughter. "Is that a paper superhero mask? Did you spray paint your hair white?"

Danny's hands rise to his head. "It's a spray-on dye! I thought it was cool!"

"Ten bucks says it's super crispy."

"Don't be mean," Sam admonishes Tucker. "I think he looks pretty good. For a discount Jack Frost."

Tucker snaps his fingers. "Emo Jack Frost! The real one would never wear this much black."

"We are no longer friends," Danny says, turning away from them.

"Come on, don’t be a spoilsport."

"Nope, too late. I'm already dead to you."

Sam and Tucker share a confused glance. "Don't you mean we're dead to—" Before Sam can finish the sentence, Danny turns and throws himself out his bedroom window. "Danny!" They scramble after him, falling against the sill as they lean outside, peering down to the alley below.

Danny lies face-first on the pavement.

"Are you dead?" Tucker asks.

Danny raises his arm and gives them a thumbs up.

—

Valerie holds back a startled shout when the metal suit crashes onto the sidewalk next to her. She is not scared, but anyone would be surprised if two tons of metal suddenly fell from the sky. A scream, rapidly increasing in volume, drawings her gaze upwards just in time for a black-clad figure to plummet inches from her nose and land with a sharp crack on top of the suit.

This time Valerie cries out because holy shit, is he dead? Her panic sputters out when she peeks at the possible corpse and gets a good look at exactly who, or what, came falling after. A human figure dressed in all black with poorly coloured hair. It looks crispy as hell.

Valerie sneers. What kind of cheap dye did they use?

She recognizes the Challenger on sight. By now, more than half of Amity Park can, although Valerie can't account for the sudden style change. Maybe they realized how lame their regular t-shirt and jeans are and decided to switch things up. This isn't much better, though. Black hoodie, black pants, black boots, no style.

No one knows their name, but the moniker the Fentons gave them seems to have stuck. Valerie thinks it's a little on the nose, though.

Something wriggles in the corner of her eye and she looks to the Challenger's fist. It clutches a bright green blob, with stubby limbs and a wide mouth.

"Let go of me!" The blob beats its penny-sized fists against the Challenger's thumb. "You are my prey!"

The Challenger groans. "Can you shut up for a second? I think my neck broke." They squeeze the blob until it squeaks.

"Hey. Watch where you're throwing this stuff around." Valerie kicks the arm of the metal suit. "You nearly crushed me!"

The Challenger jolts. Their head whips up, accompanied by a loud crack, and they lurch to their feet. A mask covers their eyes—cheap like the hair dye, probably from a costume stored—but judging by the way their eyebrows shoot up, they look at Valerie with wide eyes.

"Uh, hey, Va—citizen." Their voice drops a solid octave. "Sorry about that! I'll watch out next time." They are about to say something else when a loud squeal interrupts up, the signature sound of the Fentons' approach. The Challenger pales. "Sorry, gotta go!"

They dash into the nearest alley before Valerie can get another word in, leaving her with the empty metal husk and the sound of the Fentons from two streets away. She gapes after them, unsure what to make of the brief exchange.

"Actually, wait a second." The Challenger pops back around the corner, leaping over the ghost's suit to reach Valerie. They grab her shoulders in a cold grip. "Are people really using that dumb name for me?"

At a loss for words, Valerie nods.

"Ugh." The Challenger groans and lets her go in favour of rubbing a hand down their face. "Stop that. It's so boring. Just call me... Phantom. Okay? See ya!" They spin away, too fast, and trip over the metal suit.

Wow, Valerie thinks as Phantom scrambles around the corner once more. We have the lamest superhero ever.

#phic phight #phic phight 2021 #phanfic #phicc #dp fanfiction #danny phantom #danny fenton #deadpool au #danny phantom fanfiction #humour #tumblroneshot

[kinglazrus]

Double Date

Phic Phight

Submitted by @ghostgothgeek: Danny/Sam and Johnny/Kitty double date

Summary: All Danny wanted was some dating advice from the only couple he knows, but of course he got more than he bargained for. At least going to the boardwalk sounds like a nice first date, right?

Word count: 9464 | links to ffn and ao3 in my bio

Danny stares at the tickets in Johnny's outstretched hand. He looks up at Johnny's slanted grin, then back down again. On the other side of the roof, Shadow lurks in the shade of the Ops-centre, drifting dangerously close to the supports.

"When I asked for dating advice, this isn't what I meant," Danny says. He thought Johnny dragged him up to the roof of Fenton Works for some "man to man" talk, not... whatever this is.

Johnny shrugs and stuffs the tickets into his jacket pocket. "Maybe so, but it's what you're getting! You want to treat your girl right? What better way to learn than watching the best boyfriend you know in action?"

"Johnny, I've seen you in action. Downtown. Driving around the community college and looking at all the girls while Kitty is off doing whatever," Danny says.

"Is that really such a big deal? Come on, kid. Listen to me." Johnny throws his arm around Danny's shoulder and drags him toward the edge of the rooftop. "Look how big this place is." He sweeps out his arm, gesturing toward the city. The sun is nearly set, but lots of people are still out at this hour. A warm haze of light glitters on the northern edge of the city, at the beachfront. Danny can almost see the top curve of the Ferris wheel from here.

Johnny continues. "Lots of people down there. Who knows who you actually saw doing what? I bet there are loads of blond guys with bikes around here. And I've got two tickets to the pier that says so."

Danny turns away from the glowing city to stare incredulously at Johnny. "You're using a double date with you and Kitty to bribe me into not telling her I caught you ogling college girls?"

"You said it, not me."

"Did you steal those tickets?"

"Kid, I know you're the goody-two-shoes type. I bought them fair and square with money right of pocket."

Danny snorts. "Whose pocket?"

"I don't think that matters. Come on, it'll be fun. I don't give advice for free, you know." Johnny squeezes Danny's shoulder, a little too hard for what's meant to be a casual chat. The desperate sheen in Johnny's eye kind of ruins the threat, though.

As Danny considers the offer, a shiver goes up his spine. His next breath leaves in a puff of pale blue air. With a sigh, he goes intangible and extracts himself from Johnny's hold, smiling a little when the older ghost stumbles at the sudden loss of Danny's support. Looking over the rooftops, he can't see another ghost, but they can't be far if they set off his ghost sense. He hopes with all his heart that they might be here for a friendly chat, like Johnny, but doubts it. Danny isn't lucky enough for that.

"Okay. I'll go," he says.

"And?" Johnny's grin stretches as he gestures for Danny to go on.

Danny tips his head back and sighs. He doesn't have time for this. "And I guess I didn't see you at the college last week."

"Great!" Johnny gives Danny a hearty slap on the back and climbs back onto his motorcycle. "You're not so bad, kid. When you're not kicking my ass. Just stick with Kitty and me on the day and I'll show the ropes." He kicks up the stand on his motorcycle and revs the engine. "Oh, and before I forget. If this date doesn't go perfectly, then... Shadow!"

The murky ghost rises from beneath the Ops-centre.

"Wait, don't!" Danny shouts, too late, as Shadow zips across the roof, cutting through as many of the Ops-Centre's supports as he can before melting into the darkness. Johnny takes off cackling as the whole thing comes crashing down.

—

The next morning, Danny keeps his head low, his gaze locked on the bowl of soggy cereal in front of him. Across the kitchen, his father stops to slap the counter.

"Didn't even hear a thing! Can you believe that?" Jack asks.

"Crazy."

"Must have happened while we were sleeping."

"Must have."

"When I find the ghost that did it, they're gonna get a face full of Fenton grade vengeance! You know what happens when a ghost looks in a mirror, Danno? Makes 'em go crazy. We're working on this new gun that makes them see—"

"Look at that, time for school!" Danny shoots to his feet. He can't meet his father's gaze as he dumps his cereal bowl—still half full—into the sink and scurries out of the kitchen.

"Have fun!" Jack calls after him.

"Yeah, sure, I will!" Danny shouts back. Under his breath, he adds, "as long as I never have to see that gun." He grabs his backpack as he leaves, snagging the strap and swinging it over his shoulder on his way out the door. Once he is outside, and there's a solid barrier between him, his ticked-off father, and whatever ghost-fighting monstrosity his parents have made now, he stops to take a deep breath.

There are still a few minutes before Tucker should arrive for their walk to school, but Jack does not know that. Danny did not want to sit there and listen to his own father talk about all the ways he could make Danny double-dead, much less re-experience his first death. In fact, he usually tries to avoid people like that. Unfortunately, that does not always work when he lives with two of them.

Danny shakes his head. He can think about those things later. Right now, his conversation with Johnny is the only thing he cares about. Only time will tell if he made a huge mistake agreeing to the double date, but it would be nice if at least one thing could go right for Danny for once.

Inside the house, something slams, followed by a shout from Jack that rattles the window. Danny jumps away from the door and nearly tumbles down the stoop, his front foot slipping off the top step. He latches onto the bannister to keep from falling back, and his foot thumps against the next step. The landing jars his leg as his knee locks, a jolt shooting up his thigh.

"Whoa, it's freshman Danny." Tucker's voice drifts through Danny's ears.

Danny turns, rubbing his now aching knee, and scowls. "What?"

"You know. Freshman Danny." Grinning wide and smug, Tucker motions to Danny's entire person first, then his leg. "Clumsy as hell and too chicken to ask Sam out."

"Shut up! Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too!" Tucker waves his hand in an airy gesture of finality, turning up his nose. He spins away from Danny, a signal that their little squabble is over. His mistake.

With a final cry of "Am not!" Danny launches himself at Tucker, pouncing on his back. Tucker shrieks in surprise, a peal of laughter echoing off his cry, and stumbles under the new weight. He tries to beat Danny off with the flat of his palm. In response, Danny clings tighter. He wraps his legs around Tucker's waist and hooks his arms over his shoulders, latching on to his wrists to keep a firm grip.

"Holy shit. You're so short, why are you so heavy." Tucker wheezes as he tries to pry Danny's arms off.

Danny throws his head over Tucker's shoulders, shifting his weight forward enough that Tucker bows underneath him. "Ghost fighting muscles, baby."

"Ugh." Tucker's palm finds Danny's chin and he pushes, shoving his head back. "You totally could have asked Sam out for homecoming but nooo, you had to go with me as a hot young bachelor."

Danny's cheeks burned. "It was your idea!"

"Only because you were getting all pouty about not going with Sam, and the only reason that didn’t happen is because you never asked!"

"Well, I'm asking today!"

Tucker freezes. For a second, Danny wonders how ridiculous they must look to anyone watching, with him clinging to Tucker worse than Klemper to literally anyone, and Tucker stretching back to push Danny's head as far back as it will go. Actually, maybe they wouldn't find it so strange. Danny's neighbours have seen a lot of weird things in the past four years; him and Tucker being their usual selves can't be high up on that list.

"You're really gonna ask today, finally?" Tucker asks.

Danny nods, as much as he can Tucker still shoving his head back. "Johnny was here last night."

"Oh yeah?" Tucker pauses, giving Danny a chance to elaborate. He doesn't, waiting for the gears to click in Tucker's head instead. It takes a moment, but he gets there. "Oh! Oh, right, yeah. He finally got back to you? Is that why, uh... you know." Tucker finally withdraws his hands and points to the roof of Fenton Works.

"Oh. Yeah." Danny's limbs go intangible, slipping through Tucker's torso in one final act of petty vengeance as Danny rights himself. Tucker shivers, shooting Danny a glare, before looking back at the Ops-Centre. Normally a pinnacle of Fenton genius that stands proudly above their home, now it lays on its side. Danny managed to catch it, barely, before it could crash into the roof, but overnight the saucer-like body crushed itself under its own weight. Now, the side touching the roof is a crumpled mess, the supports that once held it up rusted beyond repair.

"Shadow," Danny says. It's all he needs to say. Tucker nods, understanding perfectly what happened here. "Other than that it went... okay. He asked me out."

"What?!" Tucker's head whips toward Danny, his eyes wide. "I hope nobody tells Kitty. But he does give off bi energy, doesn't he?"

Danny rolls his eyes. "Not like that. He invited me and Sam on a double date with him and Kitty."

"Oh, so they're swingers."

"Tucker!"

Tucker snickers. "Okay, okay. I'm serious now. Promise." The cat-like grin he gives isn't the most reassuring, but Danny will take what he can get. "You're really gonna ask her out today?"

"Got carnival tickets and everything."

"Well, shit, man. Don't blow it."

Danny grabs Tucker's beanie and yanks it down over his face. Tucker's teasing laughter chases Danny all the way to school.

—

At lunch, Danny pulls Sam aside. He meets her at her locker, which is two halls away from his and Tucker's, waiting along the opposite wall for her to finish switching out her books for her lunch bag. The hall is still fairly crowded since it's only been a minute since the lunch bell went. Down the way, Danny can see Paulina and Elliot, standing with their heads tucked together by Paulina's locker, working on the local rumour mill no doubt. When Sam looks done digging through her bag, and Danny pushes off the wall toward her, Elliot happens to glance in their direction. His sharp eyes go from Danny to Sam, then back. A wicked smile takes over his face.

Danny ducks his head, letting his hair flop forward and hide his slowly reddening cheeks. In two quick strides, he crosses the hall and thumps against the closed lockers beside Sam's.

"Done lurking?" Sam asks without looking up.

"I wasn't lurking."

"Sure you weren't." Sam knocks her elbow against her locker door. Danny's eyes catch the small, black-framed mirror taped to the inside, which reflects the exact spot Danny was standing when it hits the right angle.

At this rate, Danny's face will be red as his shoes. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh. What's up?" She finally looks up from her bag as she yanks the zipper closed. When she turns toward him, she hits her locker door with her elbow once again, this time to knock it closed; but, as the door swings, Danny glimpses Paulina and Elliot again. This time, they are both watching, and the way they cover their mouths as they talk is far from reassuring.

Danny's hand jerks out. He stops Sam's locker, shoving it back open, and holds it in place to block the gossiping duo's view.

"I wanted to ask you something," Danny says.

Sam shoots a raised eyebrow at her locker door, then turns it on him "Are you okay? You've been acting kind of weird all day."

"No, yeah, I'm fine. I was just­– you know. This weekend, yeah?"

Sam looks entirely unimpressed with his fumbled words. "I can't say that I do."

"I have tickets to the boardwalk," Danny clarifies. "For this weekend. We don't have anything planned and I know you're free. So, want to go?"

As he waits for Sam's answer, he is struck by the realization that she could say no. They have been friends for years, and he has had an inkling, the past little while, that she might like him back. But he doesn't know it. No matter what Danny feels for her—and thinking about his own feelings makes his face hot and his heart stutter—she still might not feel the same. She could say no. And it's not that Danny hasn't thought about this before; there's a reason he is only asking her out senior year even though he has had a crush on her since they were freshman. But worrying about it in the back of his mind is very different from standing in front of her knowing it could actually happen.

This was such a bad idea. He is asking her out in the hallway. Within sight of Paulina and Elliot. He should have waited until after school, at least. Oh, god. Should he have gotten her something? Are you supposed to bring something when you ask someone out? Oh, this is so bad. She is going to say no, and then Danny will have to tell the story to Tucker, and Tucker will laugh because of course she said no, this is terrible.

"Sure, sounds fun," Sam says.

Danny blinks. He shakes his head, goes over her words in his head to make sure he heard it right, then blinks again. "Yes?"

"Absolutely. It's been so long since we've gone to the boardwalk. Maybe Tucker can win that stuffed shark he couldn't get last time." Sam nudges Danny's hand off her locker door and closes it, then snaps her padlock back into place.

Danny watches her blankly, slowly processing what she just said. "Tucker," he says.

"Yeah. At the ring toss booth, remember? I think he wasted fifty bucks on that thing. I told him it was a scam, but whatever." Sam starts down the hall toward the cafeteria, but Danny stays rooted in place.

He remembers the ring toss, of course. After Tucker finished emptying his wallet on the booth, Danny took a turn and got the top prize in one go. He might have had a little telekinesis to help him along, but no one else needed to know that; the giant stuffed alien was worth it. But that had nothing to do with this, right?

Before his thoughts can spiral too far, Danny shakes his head. "I meant without Tucker."

Sam pauses mid-step. Slowly, she sets her foot down and turns back around to face Danny. Her grip on her backpack tightens, and he can see the muscle along her jaw working as she clenches her teeth. Those are... probably not good signs. "Like, just you and me?"

In the background, Danny hears Paulina and Elliot snicker. He groans, dragging a hand down his face, and glares over Sam's shoulder at them. "Can you not?"

"Not our fault you're doing this in the middle of the hall," Paulina says.

"Seriously. I had way better class," Elliot adds.

Paulina looks at Elliot and beams. "You so did. But I've been rooting for this since the beginning, and I am so invested right now."

"Oh my God, this is so embarrassing." Danny has to fight off the urge to go intangible. He almost wishes his ghost sense would go off so that he could have an excuse to leave. This is not how he imagined this going, and Paulina and Elliot are making it so much worse than it has to be.

"Come on, Danny." Sam's voice snaps him out of his pity party. At some point, while he was wallowing, she walked back toward him and now has her hand on his wrist. She tugs him forward. He gives in, letting her drag him along the hall past the tittering pair until they disappear around the corner. Once they are out of sight, Sam's hand slips down into Danny's. It's warm. She squeezes his hand, just once, then tugs him into the nearest empty classroom and closes the door.

Neither of them says anything for a long moment.

Danny's hands flex at his sides as he tries not to fidget. Sam won't pull her gaze up from the floor.

"So, uh. Just you and me?" she repeats.

Danny nods vigorously, then stops and shakes it instead. "Yeah, but no. Johnny and Kitty will be there."

Sam's head snaps up.

The first thing Danny notices is the red tinge to her face, a rosy band stretching across her cheeks and nose. Her lips pinch together, not in a show of disapproval, but an expression of hers that he has become familiar with over the years. Sam doesn't usually do hopeful most of the time. Nerves aren't her thing either. But when she wants something bad enough, and she dares to look on the brighter side, she gets this look on her face. It's like she wants to smile but she holds herself back, sucking on her lips as she tries to keep composed.

That expression wavers now, her mouth relaxing as a frown tugs at her lips instead. "Now I'm confused. Are you trying to ask me out or not?"

"Yes!" Danny bursts out. "To the boardwalk with me. But it's, like, a double date with Johnny and Kitty, because he got the tickets. Actually bought them, although I'm pretty sure he stole the money." He considers telling Sam about the deal but holds back. "I really thought this was gonna go better but now I kind of want to punch Elliot in the face or something."

"Please don't punch my ex-boyfriend in the face."

"Right, not a good look. Got it."

Silence falls again. Neither of them can meet each other's eyes, although Danny keeps stealing glances at Sam. One hand hovers in front of her mouth, but when she turns her head away from him, he sees the full-blown grin on her face. Her eyes sparkle in a way he hasn't seen before. It sounds cheesy and dumb, but it's the truth. He looks at her and all he can see is how genuinely happy she is. Soon enough, Danny wears a grin to match hers.

"So," Sam says, and that one syllable sounds so much lighter than her usual tone. "It's a date."

—

In retrospect, asking Sam to go out with him on Saturday on a Wednesday wasn't the best idea. Danny floats around school for the rest of the day with a dopey grin on his face. He actually lifts off his feet a few times and Tucker has to clamp a hand down on his shoulder to keep him down. Over the next two days, he asks Tucker no less than five times if that really happened, if Sam actually said yes. Tucker, naturally, teases Danny relentlessly over it.

By Friday, Paulina and Elliot have made good work of spreading Danny's disaster attempt to ask Sam out all around the school. More than once, he sees money changing hands in the hallway, trying to be discreet and Danny and Sam pass by, so close together that their knuckles keep brushing as they walk.

He hasn't held her hand since she dragged him to the classroom on Wednesday, even though he wants to.

When Saturday rolls around, Danny phones Tucker an hour before he and Sam are supposed to meet.

"Do I dress normally?" he asks.

On the other end of the line, Tucker sighs. "Why are you asking me?"

"It's the boardwalk. People don't get dressed up for the boardwalk. And Sam has already seen everything in my closet. Should I try to look really nice, or should I just be myself?"

"We are talking about Sam, right? Relax, man. You know what she'd like."

In the end, Danny decides to go mostly normal. He throws a button-up over his usual outfit, rolls the sleeves up, and calls it a day. If he knows Sam, she would appreciate him not making things weird by getting too fancy and not like his usual self. He maintains that attitude up until he gets to the boardwalk and sees her waiting by the ticket booths.

"I should have dressed up," he whispers.

At a glance, Sam's outfit doesn't seem too different from her usual attire. Black on black with a few purple accents thrown into the mix. He has seen her in dresses before, but rarely outside school dances, and he has never seen this one with Flowing lace sleeves that slope down her shoulders and a flared skirt. She even has a new wide brim hat to go with it, even though it's already sunset.

Before Danny even considers turning back around and putting something nicer on, Sam's gaze roves over the parking lot and settles on him. She gives his outfit a good look. A second passes. She bursts on laughing.

"Oh, come on," Danny whines as he approaches.

"I'm sorry," she says, but she is still hunched over clutching her stomach. "But your face. You should have seen your face."

It takes a good minute for her to get her giggles under control. Even still, a few quiet snickers breakthrough when she finally composes herself, smoothing out her dress and righting her hat.

"Tucker texted me," she says. "He told me all about your little fashion dilemma."

"I'm gonna kill him." Tucker just had to get in one last jab before the date began, Danny supposes. He hopes it was worth it because Tucker is going to pay dearly. Although...

He subtlety takes in Sam's outfit again, the way the dress hugs her waist, and those boots. He didn't notice them at first but now he can't stop staring at them. Slick, black, buckled up to the knees, with the purple lace edging of a pair of stocking peeking out the top. The only exposed skin on her legs is a few scant inches of her thighs between the end of the stockings and the bottom of her dress. And it's a damn good few inches.

Danny silently amends his earlier statement. He won't kill Tucker; he will collapse into his best friend’s arms crying tears of gratitude for helping him spend a whole evening with Sam dressed like that.

Realizing that he is staring, Danny quickly drags his eyes back up to Sam's face. The last thing he wants on their first date is for her to punch him because he is being a creep. Except Sam doesn't look angry to have caught him staring. In fact, she is blushing again, nervously plucking at her sleeves with her nails.

"For a second I thought you had bought a whole new outfit just for today." Danny chuckles, his own nerves showing through. Despite how long they have known each other, he feels wholly unprepared for tonight.

"Not exactly," Sam says. She drops her sleeves and smooths out her skirt again, this time pinching some of the fabric in her hand and swishing it back and forth. "I've had this outfit for a while, but I haven't worn it yet."

"Oh, man. I'm really underdressed, aren't I?" Danny tugs at the collar of his NASA shirt with a grimace. The button-up, at least, is black, because he knew she would like that. But otherwise, he is plain old Danny.

"Not that you don't look good all dressed up, but I like it when you're yourself," Sam says.

The rumble of a motorcycle approaches from the distance.

"Besides, I think you'll look pretty fancy next to Johnny."

At least Danny has that going for him. They both turn toward and watch Johnny's motorcycle peal into the parking lot. It goes intangible, along with its riders, and phases through the parked cars, only coming back into the physical world when it screeches to a stop in front of Danny and Sam.

Johnny runs a hand over his slicked-back hair—is that gel? "You're really setting the tone for your first date, huh."

To Danny's horror, Johnny is dressed up. He switched his dusty gray jacket for a shiny leather one, and instead of his usual shirt, he wears his own button-up. But unlike Danny's, Johnny's shirt is white and crisp, and actually buttoned up.

Kitty, meanwhile, looks the same as always. "Come on, don't tease the kid. He ain't half bad looking. He snagged me for a couple weeks, didn't he?"

Danny opens his mouth, about to remind her that she had been using him to make Johnny jealous the entire time; one look at Johnny's scowl and Sam's glare has him shutting up before he can utter a single syllable.

"Uh, should we go in? You do have the tickets, right Johnny?" he says instead.

Johnny scoffs and reaches into his jacket, pulling out the tickets. "Cool it, little man. I got us covered."

"Johnny! You actually bought tickets?" Kitty gasps.

"Only the best for you, babe. Let's go." Johnny holds out his elbow for Kitty to take, which she goes with glee, her steps bouncing as they take off for the ticket booth. Over his shoulder, Johnny shoots Danny a wink.

"Oh, uh. Shall we?" Danny cringes as the words fall from his mouth, but offers his arm to Sam nonetheless. She looks between Danny and Johnny, a questioning look in her eye. Just when Danny thinks she is going to leave him hanging, she shrugs and loops her arm through his.

They follow Johnny and Kitty. Already at the booth, the ghostly couple is passing the tickets over when Danny and Sam get close.

"The pipsqueaks are with us," Johnny says.

The girl at the counter, who looks only a year or two older than Danny, stares at Johnny with wide eyes. His aura, a dull grey that's usually hard to see, is much brighter at night. With the poorly lit parking lot at their back, it's impossible to ignore. Kitty's soft green aura is far more noticeable, but she stands just behind Johnny, her arm still curled around his, staring ahead at the twinkling lights of the boardwalk.

The sun hasn't completely set yet, but the top of the Ferris wheel touches the darkest part of the sky, and its colourful lights flash in a mesmerizing pattern, beckoning people in.

Johnny seems to have forgotten the whole reason he arranged this date in the first place because he takes full advantage of Kitty's distraction to lean in close to Ticket Girl, looking her up and down.

Behind them, a line is forming.

Ticket Girl's lip curls in disgust, but Danny can see fear shining in her eyes. "Sorry, sir, but I don't know if I can let a ghost in."

The fawning curl to Johnny's smile drops away abruptly, twisting into something more similar. "That's a bit rude, don't you think?" Shadow rises from Johnny's feet, growing taller until he looms over the booth, a menacing grin stretching his blank face wide.

"Johnny!" Danny slides up to the booth, nudging Johnny over with the arm not held by Sam, and beams at Ticket Girl manning the booth. "Hey. You might recognize me­—Danny Fenton, son of Maddie and Jack Fenton."

"The ghost hunters." Ticket Girl nods.

"Right. We're actually doing an experiment right now. See, some ghosts actually have really human behaviours. Like Phantom, I bet you love him. But any good scientist has to test their hypothesis multiple times. So me and my– uh, my girlfriend?" He glances at Sam, whose red face matches his, but nods in agreement. "Are here to observe these too ghosts"—he tips his head to Johnny and Kitty—"doing normal human things. Such as getting into the boardwalk with paid tickets, just like everyone else wants to do."

"But he...." Ticket Girl glances nervously at Shadow.

"The big guy will be so chill. Super chill. You won't even know he is here, because you'll be at the booth, far away from the ghosts that just want to get inside and definitely not hurt anyone here."

The kid snatches up the tickets before Danny finishes his sentence, ripping off the stubs, and shoves a handful of wristbands across the counter, along with a whole roll of game tickets. "Just don't come back, okay?"

"Thank you!" Danny grabs the items and hustles everyone along.

"Nice work, Danny." Kitty gives him a thumb up under her and Johnny's intertwined arms. "Way to use your head."

"I could have thought of something," Johnny grumbles.

"Sure you could have, babe. Now let's check out the roller coaster first!" She drags him off, both of them without their wristbands, but Danny doesn't think it will be a problem. Everyone steers clear of them as they plow through the crowd. Every second the sun gets closer to setting, every shade darker the sky turns, the more obvious it becomes that Johnny and Kitty aren't human as their auras grow brighter.

"What should we do first?" Sam plucks four of the wristbands from Danny's fist—the kid gave him seven—and puts them on, grinning at her little collection. She takes the remaining three and puts them on Danny.

"Roller coaster sounds fun. Go with the thrills first?" He watches her slip the bands around his wrist, looping them together so that all three are intertwined.

Sam pauses on the last bracelet. "But you like saving the big rides for last."

He peeks over Sam's shoulder. Johnny and Kitty are halfway across the boardwalk already, well on their way to the coaster. Johnny twists mid-step, catches Danny's eye, and beckons him forward.

Right. Stick together. See how it's done.

"Yeah, but it might be fun to shake things up." He takes over putting the last bracelet on, hurrying to slap the sticky pieces together. In his rush, he catches some of his hair, drawing out a wince, but Johnny and Kitty are nearly there, and they've fallen way too far behind. "Come on!"

Danny takes Sam's arm and pulls her along. Focused on the path left by Johnny and Kitty's charge, he misses the frown on Sam's face as she looks down at him.

—

It goes better than Danny expected. Kitty leads the way, picking attraction after attraction with such gusto that he thinks she has never been to a theme park of any kind, which may very well be. Danny doesn't know much about Johnny and Kitty's life before ghost-hood, except that they died young and poor.

More than once, Danny catches Johnny watching other girls. Kitty doesn't seem to have noticed, so far, but Danny is not taking any chances. He remembers Johnny's threat and Shadow's piercing eyes watching them every step of the way serves as a constant reminder. Whenever he catches Johnny in a moment of distraction, he nudges the ghost and draws him back to the present. It earns him a few glares, but it works.

Despite Johnny's mounting annoyance, he still fulfills his side of the deal, giving Danny quick advice, either through vague gestures or whispered words while the girls are distracted.

"Let her choose what to do." Johnny feigns examining the bright bulbs overhead as they wait in line for the bumper cars. The golden lights dangle from the tent, flashing intermittently. Neither Sam nor Kitty are paying attention to the boys. Sam leans against the railing, cheering on the current bumper car drivers. A quick glance into the rink shows Valerie Grey ramming her cart against Dash Baxter.

If Johnny weren't dispensing important advice, Danny would be right next to Sam cheering along.

"It makes her feel like you care about what she likes when you do," Johnny continues.

"I do care," Danny says.

"Perfect, then you won't have a problem."

The bumper cars don't provide ample opportunity to use Johnny's advice, but when Kitty drags them to the Tilt-a-Whirl next, he gets the perfect chance. At the front of the line, he and Sam get first pick of the available seats. The Amity Park boardwalk, unlike other theme parks, has an eclectic collection of Tilt-a-Whirl cars ranging from a cupcake, to a plain seat, to a bat to a spaceship. Danny already knows which one Sam would like.

"You want to take the spaceship?" Sam asks, tugging Danny in that direction.

He resists her pull. "Don't you like the bat?"

"Yeah, of course. But you like the spaceship."

It's the strangest tug of war Danny has ever found himself in. He nearly gives in, but Johnny kicks the back of Danny's leg—lightly—and coughs "lady's choice" under his breath.

"It's just a car. We can take the one you like," Danny says.

Sam frowns, her grip slackening. It's all that Danny needs, and he eagerly pulls her toward the bat, sliding in before she can protest further. When he turns to face her, instead of a smile, she meets him with a frown.

"Is something wrong?" Danny asks, startled. Panic rises within him. Oh, no. She is not having a good time. It's a disaster after all.

"No, it's fine," she says after a moment of silence, which does nothing to assuage Danny's worries. Everyone knows "fine" doesn't actually mean "fine." It's one of the most used words in Danny's vocabulary, typically after a nasty ghost fight that leaves him limping and bruised.

Desperate, Danny leans out of the car, searching the ride for Johnny. He finds him across the way, sliding into the cupcake next to Kitty. Johnny meets Danny's gaze and motions for him to watch. In one smooth move, Johnny stretches his arm out with a feigned yawn, then settles it down around Kitty's shoulders and tugs her close. When Danny leans back into the car, Sam is watching him.

"You're acting weird," she says.

"I'm just a little tired." Danny stretches his arm up, just like Johnny did. Sam's gaze follows it all the way until he drapes it over her shoulder. It isn't until he has settled that he realizes he forgot the yawn.

The rest of Johnny's advice follows that same vein: do what Sam wants and use every chance possible to invite her closer. Danny follows it to the letter, mimicking everything Johnny does. Take the lead when walking, but let her choose where to go. Keep her close, but let her wander when she wants to. The hardest part, though, is finding excuses to stick with Johnny and Kitty.

"We don't have to spend the whole night with them," Sam says.

They are loading onto the Ferris wheel, Johnny and Kitty taking one side of the four-person carriage while Sam and Danny get the other. Danny had hoped to save this for the end of the night, for just him and Sam, but Kitty wanted to go now. When Danny tried to suggest otherwise, or even suggest he and Sam take a different carriage, Shadow's low growl cut off his protests.

"I want to make sure they don't get into trouble. You know they like to cause drama," he whispers needlessly. Neither Kitty nor Johnny is listening.

"I don't think we have to worry about that. We've been here for three hours already and they haven't done anything. I think they just want to have a good time. Mostly." Sam tilts her head, shooting Johnny a pointed look.

To Danny's dismay, Johnny is once again feasting on the local sights. As Kitty braces herself against the rail of the carriage, staring out over the beachfront, Johnny leers at the woman who helped them onto the ride. His posture mimics Kitty's as the Ferris wheel turns for the next passengers to load on, and he leans over to get one last look at the woman.

"It's a double date. Aren't you supposed to stick together on a double date?" Danny draws Sam's attention back to him with the question and uses that moment to kick Johnny's ankle.

"Ow!" Johnny cries. He whips around, fixing a glare on Danny. "The hell was that for?"

"Do I have to say it?" They both know he won't, though. With the threat of Shadow hanging over the evening, Danny won't risk letting Kitty on to what's happening behind her back.

Sam, however, has no such qualms. "I can't believe you. You're literally on a date and you're not even paying attention to your girlfriend?"

That grabs Kitty's attention. She turns, eyes wide, and looks at Johnny. "What?"

"I bet she spent a long time getting ready for today, trying to look good for you, but here you are, faking interest when she watches, then looking to someone else whenever you think she isn't." As Sam berates Johnny, her voice slowly growing louder, Danny gets the sinking feeling that she isn't just talking about the ghost. "I wonder how long she has been looking forward to this. Probably a really long time, but you're so distracted that you can't even see she isn't enjoying herself."

Danny's stomach plummets. He really screwed up, didn't he?

"You. What?" Kitty's ice-cold voice reminds Danny that there are real stakes on this date.

"I was checking out her jacket, not her! It looks like the kind of thing you like to wear," Johnny rushes to explain.

Kitty's eyes narrow. In a blink, she lurches across the carriage and takes Johnny's place at the rail, peering back at the receding woman. Damningly, she isn't wearing a jacket.

"You! You! I can't believe you!" Kitty shrieks. "I thought you wanted to take me on a nice date. I didn't even care that you the ghost kid and his girl were coming, because he's nice, and you were finally taking me to a theme park like I always wanted!"

Viridescent tears streak down Kitty's cheeks. Danny has seen her livid and raging plenty of times over the past few years, but now she looks downright distraught. Her face crumples, scowl giving way as a sob wrenches from her throat. Johnny looks as stricken as Danny feels.

"I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean it. You know you're the only girl for me," he says, dropping to his knees.

"I thought this– this meant something." Kitty struggles to speak through her tears, fighting against the tightening of her throat and gasping sobs. "How could you?"

She takes off, then, launching herself out of the carriage with enough force that she sends it rocking. Johnny reaches after her, but it's no use. She streaks across the sky, a blur of red and green, and disappears into the sparkling lights of the game booths, out of sight in seconds.

An oppressive silence descends for one long moment.

Johnny, shoulders trembling, turns to Danny. His shadow bubbles and bulges as two furious eyes blink open. "Kid, I am going to kill you!"

Sam jumps forward, sending the carriage rocking again, and brings her leg up. Danny glimpses the neon sole of her boot before she slams her heel down on Shadow's growing face. Shadow screeches in pain and withers into the floor, disappearing into a grey blob with a pathetic sizzle.

"Shut the hell up, Johnny, and go after your girlfriend!" Sam shouts, thrusting an arm out toward the game booths.

Johnny gnashes his teeth but doesn't fight. "This isn't over, kid." He falls through the floor of the carriage, intangible, and takes off after Kitty.

With a huff, Sam drops onto the bench opposite Danny, crossing her legs and arms, and glares at a point over Danny's shoulder.

Danny fidgets, pinching the fabric of his jeans and rolling it between his fingers. He looks up at Sam, down, then out after Johnny and Kitty. "Should we–"

"They can wait until the ride is done," Sam snaps.

Danny nods, afraid to say anything else and screw this up even further. He should have noticed Sam wasn't enjoying herself. It started off great, and now... he is not sure if there will be a second date. He wouldn't blame her. With that realization comes the dawning horror of what that might mean for their friendship. It would end because of this, right? They have fought a few times over the years, and it never lasts long, but this is different. They tried dating; that changes things. If it doesn't work and they go back to just being friends, it won't be the same. They will both know that they like each other, and they will know that it didn't work.

What would happen then? Danny can't imagine not having Sam in his life, but if she is really mad at him... she has dropped people for less. Everyone in Casper High remembers the middle school debacle that led to Sam cutting off all ties with Paulina. They might be better now, but it took six years for them to become friends again. Danny couldn't wait that long.

"Danny!" Sam jostles him, her hand on his shoulder, and yanks him back to the present. She stares into his eyes, assessing him. Once she is satisfied that he is back in the moment, she returns to her seat, this time with her gaze fixed on him.

Looking outside the carriage, Danny realizes they are over the crest. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he missed half the ride, including the best moment. The realization hits him worse than one of Skulker's ecto-seeking missiles. He nearly spirals again, but Sam reaches out and clamps onto his knee, keeping him grounded.

"Danny, I think we need to talk."

This is his nightmare. Literally, he has had nightmares about Sam rejecting him. They usually end with the haunting echo of Elliot's pompous laughter as Sam chooses him, old jealousies thriving in his dreams. Sometimes Valerie is there, too, her face overlayed with Sam's as they turn him down in unison. But the worst ones are when it is just Sam, looking him straight in the eye, and saying no. Right now, this is all too close to those nightmares.

He swallows, unable to find the right words, and nods instead.

"Why did you ask me out if you weren't even going to pay attention to me?" she asks.

Danny's mouth stays clamped shut as his earlier fears are realized. Her rant was for more than just Johnny.

"You asked me if this outfit was new." Sam skims her fingers along the lace of her stockings, tracing the spiderweb patterns hidden within. "I didn't lie when I answered. I bought this a few months ago for homecoming. It was our last one, and I thought... I thought you were going to ask me to it."

"But that's not..."

"Yeah, I didn't wear it."

The dress she did wear was fancier, with layered skirts and glittering black beads.

"I bought this one because I knew you wouldn't care if I dressed fancy or not. And I know you don't like to unless you have to." She nods to Danny's casual outfit. "So when you asked me out, I already knew what I wanted to wear, because I know you. But this whole time, you haven't acted like the Danny I know and care about. You've been clingy, and overly accommodating, but at the same time ignoring everything I wanted. And when you weren't doing that, you were watching Johnny?"

Sam ducks her head and looks away. With the brim of her hat hiding her face, he can't see her, but the quiet sniffle she makes is unmistakable.

A rotten taste seeps through Danny's mouth. This was supposed to be a nice first date, but all he did was make Sam cry.

"I know I say I don't care about this stuff. I say it all the time, but..." She reaches up, carefully dabs at her eyes so she doesn't ruin her makeup. "I wanted you to look at me."

Danny finally finds his voice. "Sam, God, no. You're beautiful. When I saw you? Holy crap, I couldn't breathe. You're always beautiful. Not that that's the only reason I like you! You're my best friend. I love your passion, and your smarts, and how you won't put up with guys like Johnny getting away with any of their shit. Or me getting away with mine. I love so much about you, and I love­–"

He cuts himself off before the last word, the unsaid "you" hanging between them. He knows what he meant. She probably does, too. Now isn't the right time to say it, though, so he lets his voice fade to quiet.

The Ferries wheel jerks to a stop, their carriage rocking back and forth, and the ride technician opens the door for them.

"Hey, weren't there for of you before?" she asks.

"They got off early," Danny says. He ignores the startled look on the technician’s face as he rises to his feet. On instinct, he reaches toward Sam but holds back at the last moment. Clingy. The word echoes in his head. He wavers, unsure what to do.

Sam takes the choice away from him, jerking to her feet before he can decide. She touches his hand, but doesn't take it and brushes past him, exiting the carriage onto the boardwalk.

"Harsh," the technician whispers.

"I deserve it," Danny mutters back before running after Sam. She walks at a brisk pace, weaving through the crowd toward the line of booths. Danny catches up as she reaches the first tent. "Where are we going?"

"We need to make sure Johnny and Kitty haven't trashed anything, don't we?" Sam says.

"Right, yeah." Danny wishes his ghost sense would go off. At the very least, it could tell them if Johnny and Kitty were close by, but that only worked if they left his range in the first place. In his freshman year, they might have, but today his range stretched over most of the boardwalk, if not the whole thing.

As it turns out, tracking them is easy even without Danny's sense. When he and Sam reach the tightest cluster of game booths, they find a trail of destruction. Fallen stands, scattered prizes, and shattered lights guide them through the maze of booths and back out into the main thoroughfare.

"This looks tame for Shadow," Sam comments.

"Twenty bucks says Johnny did it," Danny says as they pick their way through shattered boards.

"Not Kitty?"

"Right now, the only person she's mad at is Johnny. But when Johnny gets mad, he isn't the only source of bad luck in their trio," Danny explains. It doesn't come out often, since Shadow does most of the fighting, but he has seen it often enough to recognize the effects.

When they leave the booths behind, they find themselves near the boardwalk entrance. In the middle of the wide path, Johnny and Kitty are locked in a screaming match. Or Kitty screams while Johnny wilts with every new word.

"It was always supposed to be our place, Johnny! And you ruined it!" She beat her fist against his chest, wailing all the while.

Johnny's silence under the onslaught speaks volumes. He doesn't even look mad anymore, just heartbroken.

"All I ever wanted, and you couldn't even—!" She stops, shuddering, and takes a deep breath. Her next words come out quiet. "If you hadn't tried to look at that stupid girl! If you had just watched the road like you were supposed to!" A gut-wrenching sob cuts her off. "Leave me alone, Johnny."

She turns on her heels and runs toward the nearest building. For a moment, it doesn't look like Johnny is going to follow. His legs tremble, seconds from collapsing beneath him. He manages to lift his gaze, though, and finally notices the sign hanging over the building that Kitty missed: Hall of Mirrors.

"Shit! Kitty, wait!" he calls, but she ignores him. With another swear, he leaps up and flies after her.

"Oh, no," Danny says. He sprints across the boards, Sam following without question. They're halfway to the house of mirrors when they hear a piercing scream followed by a crash. The building crackles. Something inside pulses, imperceptible to regular humans, but it makes Danny stagger.

"Danny, what's going on?"

Before he can answer, a wave of power surges from the house and everything goes back.

—

Danny wakes to a sharp ringing in his ears. Hazy light edges his vision. His hearing returns slowly. First, the muffled sound of his name, then the fizzle and pop of broken lights, and finally the soft rumbling of a gathered crowd.

All at once, Danny becomes aware. Sam hovers at his side, her hair tousled, a thin cut on her temple, and her hat in her hands. He sits up, squeezing his eyes shut when the world spins around him. Sam provides a steady hand, rubbing small circles on his back until he can open his eyes again. Around them, the stalls are dark. Thirty feet out in every direction from the house of mirrors, every light is broken. Glass litters the boardwalk. The normally glowing entrance to the park is dark, the metal twisted. Beyond that, the ticket booth lies on its side.

Directly ahead of them, a large crack splits the house of mirrors.

"What... what was that?" Sam asks. "It was like Shadow's power but way bigger. I've never... did Johnny do that? I didn't know he could."

Danny groans, rubbing his head. The piercing ring lingers in the back of his head, and it probably won't fade for a while, but it is not so bad that he can't ignore it. "Normally, yeah, but..." He grimaces. "We should get in there."

Sam nods and helps Danny to his feet, pulling him up by the arm. He staggers toward the broken attraction with Sam at his shoulder, casting wary glances all around them.

The gathered crowd isn’t big, yet. It looks like Danny was the only one knocked off his feet, the only one really affected by the ghostly surge—three guesses as to why that is, and the first two don't count. Judging by the sparks still raining down down from the shattered lights, it has only been a minute since the surge. Security isn't here yet. That gives them some time.

The employee manning the attractions sits on the boards, staring wide-eyed at the broken building. He doesn't even blink as Danny and Sam slip through the curtain.

Inside, it's dark. The lights are all down. Glass crunches under their shoes, every mirror in sight shattered, leaving blank boards behind. Johnny and Kitty aren't far from the entrance, no more than a few feet. Sam sees them first, catches the glow of their auras in the corner of her eye, and points toward a dead-end alcove after the first bend in the maze.

Kitty is tucked against Johnny's chest, her jacket pulled up around her head. Johnny has his arms around her waist, and his soft voice provides the only noise beyond the glass under Danny and Sam's feet.

When Johnny hears them, lifts his head, just enough to glare at them through the darkness. No threats spill from his lips, though, and he goes back to comforting Kitty soon enough.

Danny can't help it. He looks down at the mirror shards below them, and immediately wishes he didn't. Bloody road rash stretches up Kitty's right side, torn to the bone. Her face, protected by the darkness around them, and the shadows of her jacket, remains hidden from Danny's prying eyes. He prefers it that way.

A gentle nudge at his side reminds him that Sam is with them.

"What's going on?" she mouths.

Danny crouches, carefully not to make too much noise, and picks up a shard of glass. Johnny still hears him, though, and Shadow rises threateningly at the sight of the glass. Danny holds up a placating hand, then motions to Sam, the glass, then himself.

No matter what low opinion Johnny has of Danny right now, he wouldn't stoop so far as to expose other ghosts like that. To Danny's surprise, however, Johnny thrusts an arm out and motions for the glass. Danny raises his eyebrows. Johnny sticks his hand out further. Without complaint, Danny passes it over.

Johnny holds the glass up, angling it so that they can see his face. He and Kitty have matching road rash.

Sam gasps.

"Come on," Danny says to Johnny and Kitty. "Security will come soon. And if they see a couple of ghosts, you know they'll call my parents."

Kitty sniffs. Danny can't see her well behind the jacket, but the way her hair bobs, he assumes she nodded. All four of them go intangible, Danny lending his power to Sam. They slip through the mirrors toward the side of the building and step out into the open air. As Johnny continues to comfort Kitty, Danny creeps toward the corner of the building and peers out into the open. They left just in time. A security guard pushes through the gathered crowd and heads for the front entrance.

Danny retreats before anyone can see him, leaning against the side of the building. He shudders.

"I didn't know that could happen," Sam whispers as she comes up beside Danny.

"Not your fault. Ghosts don't make a point of going near mirrors," he says.

"You do, all the time. I saw you in a mirror this week."

"In your locker, yeah. But I'm not a ghost all the time. It doesn't work when I'm in human form."

"So, when you picked up the glass..." Sam trails off. Danny doesn't answer, letting her fill in the blanks for herself.

Neither of them says anything for a long moment. They hear the shout of the security guard, calling an al clear. Danny feels sorry for the workers at the park who have to deal with the aftermath. It didn't affect the whole boardwalk—he can see the Ferris wheel operating just fine, and a glow in the air from the game booth lights.

"Hey, kid."

Danny lifts his head toward Johnny.

"We're heading out. Consider us even."

"Thanks for showing her." Danny tilts his head back and thumps it against the wall of the house of mirrors. "You know, so I didn't have to."

Johnny shrugs. "Yeah, whatever. You're too young to deal with that shit, is all. Take care of your girl, alright?" He doesn't wait for an answer. Kitty is already gone, and Johnny goes invisible before Danny can think of a reply, leaving him and Sam alone.

"You never actually answered," Sam says, breaking the silence between them. "About why you took the double date."

Thank God it's too dark for Sam to see Danny's face go scarlet. In retrospect, of course Johnny's idea wouldn't end well, Danny was just so desperate he was willing to risk it.

"I asked him for dating advice," he mutters.

Sam splutters, a startled laugh bursting out of her. "What?"

"I couldn't think of anyone else to ask, so we made a deal. He invites us on a double date and gives me some tips, and I don't tell Kitty I caught him at the girl's college."

"You are such a dork." Sam snickers. "Is that why you kept watching him? I thought for a second me and Kitty might need to band together to keep you two apart."

Danny groans. "Please don't say that. Tucker already got me with that."

"Good. I hope he did." Sam shuffles over, leaning against Danny, and rests her head on his shoulder. "Danny, I don't need to hang off you like some soul-bound lovebird. We've known each other for ten years. I don't need some idealized romance, I just need you."

Danny feels like an idiot for ever thinking otherwise. The date might have been a train wreck, but half the boardwalk is still functioning. Maybe the evening doesn't have to be a total waste. He pulls the roll of game tickets—a precious commodity at the boardwalk—from his pocket and holds them out.

"Want to win Tucker that shark?" he asks.

Sam laughs, her shoulder shaking against his. "Only if we can ride the spaceship car on the Tilt-a-Whirl."

"Deal."

#I tried to keep it fluffy but I had to throw in some conflict #phic phight #phic phight 2021 #team halfa #tumblroneshot #danny phantom fanfiction #phicc #dp fanfiction #phanfic #danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #Johnny 13 #kitty #amethyst ocean #danny/sam #johnny/kitty #danny fenton/sam manson #johnny 13/kitty #fluff #hurt/comfort #swearing

[kinglazrus]

The Punishment Fits the Crime

Chapter 1: A New Sense

Phic Phight | Next | AO3 | FFN

Prompts used are listed at the end of the fic.

Story Summary: Ghosts are naturally drawn to death. Danny, however, finds himself drawn to those who have wrongfully died. He always said he would never hurt someone who doesn't deserve it. It's not his fault that he keeps finding people who do.

Or: Danny is a vengeful spirit.

Chapter Summary: There are a lot of dead animals in Amity Park.

Word count: 4648

Chapter warnings: animal death, implied animal mutilation (non-graphic). See Ao3 for a full fic list of content warnings

—

It begins a month after the accident, with a dog on the side of the road. Danny is on his way home from Sam's place when he finds it. His walk started normally. Somewhere along the way, he took a turn off his usual route. He can't explain why. There's nothing special about the road he turns down. It goes in the opposite direction of Fenton Works and will make him a few minutes late for his new curfew. But it's a nice night and he's been late for curfew every night since his parents implemented it, so he doesn't care all that much. He lets his feet guide him, carrying him a couple of blocks further East than he needs to go, to an area he doesn't explore much except from above.

The streets turn residential, lined with proper houses with driveways and backyards bigger than Danny's living room. That's where he finds the dog, lying in the ditch. He doesn't know how to check a dog's pulse but realizes he doesn't need to. One look at it and he knows it's dead. There is no blood, at least not that Danny can see. No gaping wound or twisted limbs. The dog is small and young, and, if not for the way it's splayed out, could easily be mistaken for sleeping. But he knows that it's dead. Has a feeling.

If Danny looks closer, he can see a streak on the pavement, the only wet spot on otherwise dry ground. There's not much of it. A normal person might not have seen it at all in this dim light, but Danny is far from normal. Whoever hit the dog dragged it out from the middle of the road before driving off. They stopped. They saw what they did. And they left. There's no sign of the car that did it. The dog is cold, so it must have happened some time ago, around sunset. Despite this, Danny finds himself scouring the street, examining every vehicle within his sight. He doesn't know what he's looking for. A dented fender? A bloody license plate? The dog is too small to have left much of a mark on whatever vehicle ran it down. The thought makes his stomach turn, but there's nothing he can do about it.

The dog has a collar, but no tags. It's not a stray, and it wasn't supposed to be outside. Danny scans the street. This time of night, not too many people are up. A few houses down, however, he sees a living room light on. Danny carefully scoops the dog into his arms, holding it against his chest, and heads for the house. He knocks on the door. A minute passes before someone answers. A middle-aged man dressed in a robe, wearing reading glasses on his nose. His eyes widen when he sees Phantom floating on his doorstep. When he spots the dog in Danny's arms, his face crumples.

"Oh, dear," the man says.

"Do you know the owners?" Danny asks. "I found it on the road. Someone hit it."

"Poor thing. Yes, I do. Let me take her." The man holds out his arms.

Danny hesitates. There's no reason for it. The man seems kind enough, and he knows the owners. There's no need for Danny to waste any more time with this. And yet, he doesn't want to let go.

"She'll be alright," the man says. "I'll take care of her." He smiles at Danny, small and probably meant to be reassuring. It doesn't make Danny feel anything, except confusion, but he relents and passes the dog over.

For the rest of his walk home, Danny puzzles over the man's last reassurance. How odd for him to think Danny was worried about the dog's body. It is odd, isn't it? Danny is a ghost. He's indeed part human, but the man isn't aware of that. He should know better. When it comes to the dead, Danny cares more about their spirits than the bodies they leave behind.

—

It happens again a couple of months later. After a rough day of outrunning Skulker—missing a math test because of it—Danny takes to the skies to clear his head the first chance he gets. That chance, unfortunately, doesn't come until after sunset, but the sky is clear and the stars are out, so it's worth it. He flies away from the city, out to the countryside where the light pollution won't impede his view as much. He veers off from the highway and settles over an open field, ready for a good hour of stargazing to help take his mind off things. Until something makes him look down instead of up.

It happens suddenly. One second, Danny is tracing Orion's path across the sky, and the next his head has turned toward the ground. Lights far below him catch his eye. They move fast, at first, but quickly slow down and turn, heading back the way they came. After a few seconds, they stop and stay in place. Abandoning the stars, Danny flips onto his stomach and drifts down to the ground. As he gets closer, he can make out the sources of the light. A pair of quads that someone had been driving around the field. They're parked now; their headlights shine on a spot in the dirt.

Danny isn't close enough for the drivers to have noticed him, but he can hear them just fine thanks to his improved senses.

"Dude, you scared it to death." The voice is young. A teenager, perhaps. Probably a pair of them. Danny supposes they must live nearby, to be out tearing through a field at this hour.

"Told you I could," the other driver says. "My brother used to do it when snowmobiling. You get them running fast enough and like, their heart just gives out or something. Crazy."

"Yeah, but... that's kind of mean."

"It's just a rabbit. Who cares?" The second driver gets back onto his quad and starts driving. The other one, who spoke first, lingers for a few seconds before he follows. Danny waits until they're a good distance away before getting close enough to see what they were talking about. A rabbit, dead, in the middle of the field. It lays a few inches from a set of quad tracks. Danny might not be a straight-A student, but he can piece together what happened fairly easily. One of the riders chased the rabbit with his quad until the poor thing had a heart attack. He killed it for no good reason.

Something sparks in Danny's gut. He turns his head toward the quads. They're still tearing around the field, maybe chasing another rabbit. Danny spares a glance up at the stars, then back toward the teenagers. It would seem that his evening plans have changed. Tonight is a good night for haunting.

—

"Did you guys see that article this morning?" Tucker asks first thing at school the next day.

Danny glances away from his locker long enough to say: "Hello, good morning, it's nice to see you, too." He quickly goes back to digging through his things, searching for all the late assignments he needs to hand in that day. Who would have thought that ghost hunting would take up so much of his time? His parents would be proud if they knew.

"Now, when you say article..." Sam trails off.

"Okay, fine. It was a forum post—on that website that I sent you guys last week. But it was referenced in an article on the Ghost Gazette this morning," Tucker says.

"I don't think that's a reputable source," Danny says. It's an online zine, from what he recalls, and it's existed long before ghosts actually came to Amity. Much like his parents and their opinions on ghosts, the GG gets a lot of things wrong.

"I told you I was keeping track of all ghost-related news in and around the city. I think it could help us when it comes to ghost hunting if we can see where ghosts are attacking the most and how far outside the city they go."

Sam grabs Tucker's shoulders and turns him to face her, looking deep into his eyes. "And we are very proud of you for taking some initiative. Good job." She pats his head.

"Oh, shut up. But I think ghost activity might actually be moving away from Amity Park." Tucker pulls up the forum post on his PDA and holds it out for Sam to read.

"This isn't much evidence," Sam says.

"What is it?" Finally done rearranging his textbooks, Danny pulls away from his locker and shuts the door, giving Tucker his full attention.

"A couple of teens encountered a ghost last week way outside the city. They were out quadding when it started following them. Chased them all the way home, apparently."

Danny fights back a smile. "That doesn't sound so bad."

"Not to mention, Amity Park can't be the only place with ghosts. We might have a stable portal here, but natural portals can open up anywhere. Once you get news of ghosts like Technus or Skulker terrorizing the next town over, then we can worry. For now, I think we're in the clear. Keep up the good work, though!" Sam beams at Tucker, who grumbles under his breath.

"This is so patronizing."

Danny is about to offer his own teasing comment when something smacks the back of his head. If he saw the hit coming, he would have dodged. He can do that now. He couldn't before, his reflexes too slow and his situational awareness at a minimum. Now, though, after a few good months as a ghost hunter, Danny's skills have improved in one or two areas. Unfortunately, none of those areas include magically knowing when Dash Baxter is about to pass him in the hall from behind.

The smack rattles Danny's brain and sends him stumbling. The stack of late assignments slips from his arms. The papers drop to the floor and scatter across the hall, sliding over the smooth tile. It's almost impressive how far away they end up.

"Someone's moody," Sam says, glaring at Dash.

"He's always moody." Danny drops to his knees and starts gathering the pages back up.

"There's a big game against Elmerton next week," Tucker says.

Danny and Sam stare at Tucker.

"My locker is by the band room."

He seems to think this explains everything. Danny and Sam keep staring.

"The band is playing the game this week. They've been talking about it. I hear things."

"Tucker, your social status can only go so low. Don't push it," Sam teases.

"Oh, shut up! You wish you could play an instrument."

"I can. Violin. It can be nice and dreary to play a piece in the middle of the night."

"I want to play an instrument," Danny mutters.

"You'd break it," Sam and Tucker say at the same time.

Danny pins them both with an offended look, but he can't deny it. Despite having his powers for months, he still drops things on accident all the time. If anyone gave him a trombone, a clarinet, or anything like that, he would break it in a day. Maybe he could learn the drums. The image of a drumstick flying from Danny's hand mid solo and hitting someone in the face quickly dashes that thought.

Piano, maybe? Nothing to fling or drop there.

Danny gathers up the last of his homework and straightens the stack. A few sheets are still out of order, but he can fix that once they get to a classroom. For now, he glares at Dash across the hall.

"Maybe I could break something. As a treat." He and Tucker exchange wicked grins. Danny's palm shines green, the light reflecting off Tucker's glasses. He points a finger over his stack of papers at Dash's back.

"Danny, don't!" Sam smacks his hand down.

"Oh, come on," Danny whines. "Let me singe his jacket. Just a little."

"Danny, we've talked about this before. You have power now."

Danny rolls his eyes as Sam slips into lecture mode. He could just walk away, but that might make her angrier. Better to bear with it until she's done and get revenge on Dash later when it's only Danny and Tucker around.

"I know you don't like to hear it but having the kind of strength you do, you can't go around using it for petty revenge. It's not right."

Danny shoots her a lopsided smile. "What's wrong with a little petty revenge?" His grin widens when Sam glares.

She looks ready to keep berating him but must see that Danny won't drop the subject so easily. "Just don't stoop down to his level, okay? You're better than that."

"No worries, Sam. I wouldn't hurt someone who doesn't deserve it."

—

Danny pauses at the mouth of an alley. He doesn't quite mean to, but it happens. Just as it did with the dog, and the rabbit, and the few other animals he has stumbled across since then. Somehow, Danny has come into the habit of stopping against his will; he already knows what he's going to find before taking a step off the sidewalk. Sam and Tucker don't realize that he has stopped right away, going a few paces ahead before they notice he isn't following.

"Hey, Danny," Tucker says. "Something wrong?"

"Probably," Danny replies. What will it be this time? A rat someone stepped on? A bug that got squished? Danny hasn't felt a pull toward one of those yet, but bugs get killed all the time. Danny found a bird just last week with a BB gun pellet in its chest. It was a small thing, too. Not even the kind of bird that's known to be a pest. It makes him smile thinking about the way the man who shot it shrieked when Danny pelted him with harmless ectoblasts. Semi-harmless. He might have had a couple minor burns by the time Danny was through with him.

"How wrong? Because the movie starts in ten minutes," Tucker says.

"Tucker! But yeah, he's right. Is it a ghost?" Sam says.

"Sort of but also no. This will only take a second." Danny starts down the alley. After a moment's pause, he hears Sam and Tucker following him. There's a lump at the end of the alley, where the cracked pavement gives way to a dusty back lane. Too small for the average dog. Much too big for a rat or anything similar. Cat, then, Danny guesses. He hasn't felt the pull for a cat, yet. Its silhouette is odd, however. As far as he's aware, most cats don't have rectangular shapes jutting out of their backs.

A lump forms in Danny's throat. When they get close enough to see what it is, Sam gasps. An orange cat with a screwdriver sticking out of it.

"Oh my God," Sam says. "What sick fucking—" She cuts herself off and turns away, a hand pressed over her mouth.

Tucker stops at Danny's shoulder and grimaces. "Shit. That sucks. I hope that cat didn't belong to anyone."

"Tucker!" Sam keeps her back to them as she shouts.

"I mean, it's still sad if it's a stray! Obviously, it's sad. But it's sadder if some kid is missing a pet because of this. Should we... I don't know, do you call someone for this? No offence but it's a cat. It's not exactly a human body.

Danny, out of habit, scans the alley and the back lane, looking for the person who did this. They're long gone, however. Nothing more than a few dusty prints left behind. There's nothing for them to do.

"We could bury it," Sam says.

"We could bury it," Danny repeats. That is a thing they are capable of, yes.

They end up missing the movie. Danny pulls the screwdriver out, grimacing at the sight of sticky blood on the metal. Dropping it in the alley doesn't feel right, so he tucks it into his hoodie pocket to figure something out later. Sam sacrifices her sweater to wrap the cat in something warm. Tucker gives her a funny look for it, but he doesn't say anything. It bothers Sam enough for her to reply anyway.

"It doesn't matter that it can't feel. It deserves some kindness."

Kindness won't bring it back, Danny thinks. Then again, nothing he wants to do will bring it back, either.

They take the cat to Sam's house. She has a large garden with plenty of space. Since it's Sam's, they don't have to worry about her mother's gardener stumbling across the body. Sam gets a shoebox to put the cat in and they find a place to bury it.

"Under the roses?" Tucker suggests.

"What about there?" Danny points to a plant with long leaves and orange flowers. "It matches the fur."

Sam shoots him a grateful look. Neither of the boys understands her at this moment, but they'll do what she wants because they love her. Danny and Tucker dig a hole between the plants while Sam arranges the cat in the box, still wrapped in her sweater. They lower it down and stare at the box for a few seconds.

"How did you know it was there?" Sam asks.

Danny shrugs. "I don't know. Could be a dead person thing."

"Technically, I think this makes it a dead animal thing," Tucker says.

Sam tilts her head. "This has happened before?"

"Yeah." Danny nods. "I thought it was a coincidence at first, but not anymore."

After a few more seconds of silence, Sam pushes the pile of dirt over the box and together all three of them smooth the patch out.

"Come on," Danny says with a hand on Sam's shoulder. "There's a later show we could go to. Might help you take your mind off of this."

"I just can't believe it. Who would do something like that?" Sam shakes beneath Danny's hand.

Danny and Tucker share a glance over her head. Sam isn't much of a crier. And, as teenage boys, neither of them is well-versed in what to do when confronted with a crying girl. Danny, at least, has some experience with his sister, but she doesn't cry much either. She's more the bottle it up and pretend everything is fine type, which is so ironic. In the end, they wrap their arms around Sam and hold her while tears stream down her face. A second set of sniffles joins Sam. When Danny pulls his head back, he sees Tucker wiping his eyes.

"Okay, so I care a little bit," Tucker says.

They stay like that for a while, until Sam and Tucker can dry their eyes, and go to the late show. Danny spends the walk trailing a pace behind them, lost in thought. While Sam and Tucker cried, he didn't feel that same sorrow. He thinks of the dog, of the man he gave it to. He thinks of the expression the man wore, so similar to the ones Sam and Tucker wear now. Something Danny can only describe as sorry. Sorry and sad.

How odd is it, then, that every time this happens, Danny only feels angry?

—

As soon as the credits start rolling, Danny pulls out his phone. It was buzzing the whole movie. When he turns on the screen, he is met with a wall of texts.

"Shit." He missed curfew by two hours, the whole length of the movie. Danny hadn't even thought of checking the time, more focused on distracting Sam. Scrolling to the start, he skims the messages. A reminder from Jazz was sent ten minutes before curfew, around the time they got to the theatre. Another reminder two minutes after. A warning message from his mom that he will be grounded if he's late again. Another text from Jazz. A text from his dad that basically says the same thing as his mom's, but with a smiley face at the end of it that feels oddly threatening even though Danny knows it's not. The most recent text is—surprise, surprise—from Jazz and is only a few minutes old.

From: Free Therapy | 12:58 p.m. Danny are you okay? At least text me so I know you're fine.

Danny is about to text back when the typing bubble pops up under her name. He waits, watching the bubble come and go. Two minutes pass before she finally composes her message and hits send.

From: Free Therapy | 1:07 p.m. You know you can tell me anything, right? You don't have to act out like this

Danny's lip curls. He tucks his phone away without writing anything back.

"Sam's coming over to my place tonight. You gonna join us?" Tucker asks.

Danny slumps down in his seat, tipping his head back. Most of the other moviegoers have left the theatre by then. Out of the corner of his eye, Danny spots an employee waiting with a broom and dustpan in hand. He stands up and stretches, offering the worker an apologetic smile.

"I wish, but I forgot to text my parents that I'd be late. I think they would kill me if I stayed out. I should probably just get home. Sorry, Sam." Danny tacks on the apology. She looks better than she did, but Sam has always been an animal lover. She doesn't even like the idea of dissecting dead frogs in biology class. He can't imagine how hard this was for her.

"I'm fine," Sam says. "Text us if your parents kill you, so we know you won't be at school on Monday."

"Rude."

They part ways outside the theatre. Danny rocks back on his heels, watching Sam and Tucker walk away. Only once they're out of view does he set off for home. His phone has buzzed a couple more times since the movie ended but he hasn't bothered checking. He's willing to bet a month's allowance that it's Jazz pestering him about how much of a troubled teen he's becoming. She's always had a hard time keeping her nose out of Danny's business. Even their parents aren't as worried about Danny's recent "attitude changes" as she is, something Danny is thankful for. Hiding his secret is hard enough with a nosy sister. Nosy parents would make it ten times worse.

At the last intersection before his street, Danny stops. He can already see the bright lights of the Fenton Works sign glowing in the distance, traces of neon orange and green spilling into the street. One more block until he's home. Danny's shoes scrape against the concrete as he makes his turn. As he heads further down the street, the glow of Fenton Works fades behind him. He follows the regular route that he takes to school for three minutes, making it a quarter of the way to Casper High before he stops at a side road. It's rarely travelled now except by the occasional pedestrian, of the homeless or vandal variety.

One too many ghost fights in the area have left the pavement riddled with potholes and impossible to travel by car unless you happen to have a GAV at your disposal. The city deals with so much ghost-related damage that it can't afford to keep patching up this one dead-end road anyway, so it has been left unattended. Danny only feels a little guilty about that. He won't lie and say he hasn't intentionally steered a few of his foes into this area before. For the first twenty yards, the road is lined by empty lots on either side. It's easier to fight when there's less collateral damage to worry about. Besides, the area was abandoned long before ghosts arrived. They just made it worse.

Danny ignores the big box store at the end of the road—some chain that tried to make it in Amity Park but ultimately failed. Instead, he focuses on the gathered silhouettes that stand out against the distant white walls. The sounds of laughter and clinking bottles drift toward him. Danny takes a step forward, kicking a loose stone out of his path. It skips across the pavement, the skittering noise drawing the group's attention.

"Hey!" someone calls from the throng. Danny waits until they all notice him, unfolding from their tightly gathered pack. He makes out three figures of varying builds, with a few common factors. They're all taller than him, and most of them have arms thicker than Danny's thigh.

One of them grabs something from their pocket. An instant later, a light shines, pointed straight at Danny. From this distance, the light from a flashlight phone doesn't even touch Danny's sneakers. But it does wonders to illuminate the thugs that have caught his attention. The brown of their letterman jackets stands out in particular. So, Danny has run across a gaggle of Elmerton punks. Not surprising, considering the football game tomorrow. It's an Elmerton High tradition to prank Casper the night before a big game, or so Danny's upperclassmen say. Except these boys are a long way from school. Danny doesn't like it.

"Just some kid," another of the Elmerites says. There's a round of snickers. One of them tips their head back. The starlight glances off the neck of a beer bottle. After that last comment, they decide Danny isn't worth their attention and return to their huddle. Danny decides that's the perfect time to find out why exactly he's here.

He ghosts over the pavement, barely making a sound as he crosses the distance between them. He steps up to the nearest gap between their bodies, still unnoticed, and stares at what called him here. Ravens, four of them, lying in the dirt. Wings bent. Necks broken. Plucked feathers litter the ground. Someone drops their beer bottle. It cracks on a raven's beak. Someone else takes a step forward, right onto the talons of one of the dead birds. Danny twitches at the crunching sound.

Shoving his way into the middle of the group, Danny kicks the leg standing on the raven's foot.

"Holy shit!" Shouts ring out as the boys jump back, away from Danny. He sees their expressions twist from shocked to incredulous as they take in Danny's size. The boy Danny kicked leans down and sneers. "What's your problem, kid?"

Shit Boots, Danny decides to call him, on account of the fact that his boots are shit.

"Geez, will you look at his fuckin' eyes? Looks like my cat." The boy beside Shit Boots—hereby dubbed Flashlight—sticks his phone in Danny's face. Danny has to blink a couple of times at first, but his eyes adjust quickly. One of the benefits of ghost biology. "Creepy."

"Oh, look." Shit Boots grabs the front of Danny's hoodie and pulls it out, showing his friends the Casper High logo. "He's a raven, too."

"Maybe we should pluck his wings, too," a third boy says.

Danny faces the newly dubbed Big Mouth—who actually has a small, pinched mouth, but the name fits in its own way—and smiles. "So, you did this. Right? That's what you're saying right now?"

Big Mouth guffaws. Danny has never liked that word, but it perfectly describes the deep laugh that bursts from the boy, boisterous and dumb. He didn't know a laugh could reveal the intelligence of its owner, but that is what's happening now. A big dumb laugh for a big dumb boy and his big dumb mouth. Should have kept it shut.

"So what?"

He really should have kept it shut.

Danny doesn't know when his hand drifted to his hoodie pocket, but now that it's there, his fingers close around the handle of the screwdriver.

"That means you deserve it."

—

Prompts used:

Submitted by @faedemon / @moipale: Ghosts are naturally drawn to death. When people die in Amity Park, Danny keeps finding the bodies. (PR263)

Next

#phic phight #phic phight 2022 #unluckyalis #danny phantom #phicc #phanfic #danny phantom fanfiction #tumblroneshots #danny fenton #animal death #implied animal mutilation #punishment fits the crime #danny is a vengeful spirit

[kinglazrus]

In Case of Emergency

Chapter 1: Emergency Contact

Phic Phight | Next | AO3 | FFN

Prompts used are listed at the end of the chapter.

Summary: Lancer is grading papers when he gets the call. "I'm calling from Amity West. I have an underage patient here who has named you as their emergency contact." Lancer rushes over, of course, fretting all the while about what accident Danny Fenton has gotten himself into now, because it could only be him. Except, when he arrives, it's not the Danny he expected to find.

Or: Danny Phantom ends up in the hospital and needs a guardian with him.

Chapter word count: 1662

—

William Lancer is grading papers when he gets the call. The number comes up unknown, so he lets it ring a few times before answering. He has contacts saved anyone who would need to call his cell—friends, family, coworkers, et cetera—and their ID would have shown. For it to be an unknown caller leaves only two likely options: a scammer or an angry parent who somehow scrounged up his number. If it's the former, he can ignore it. But William also doesn't like to be rude. At the very least he will answer the call long enough to tell them to buzz off and forget his number.

If it's the latter, then he needs to figure out which child is losing a letter grade on their next assignment for having rude parents. Oh, if only. The urge is tempting, especially with some more difficult parents. If it is a parent, they deserve to sweat for a few rings before he answers, and then he can ream them for tying up his personal line with school matters.

He lets it ring four times before answering.

"Is this William Lancer?" someone asks. Hurried, somewhat urgent, but no note of anger. That coupled with the first name eliminates the possibility of a parent. Very few parents bother to learn William’s first name.

William puts down his pen and answers. "This is he."

"I'm Dr. Alejo calling from Amity West. I have an underage patient here who has named you as their emergency contact."

"What?" A minor? A student? William stands up so fast that his chair flies back and crashes into the wall. He hurries around his desk. "Who? I—oof." A jolt shoots up his side and the phone slips from his fingers. He fumbles to catch it with one hand and massages his hip with the other, giving his desk an affronted look.

"—tom," the doctor finishes.

Tom. Tom? William can't think of any student named Tom. No, not Tom. He missed the first part of the name, probably misheard the end of it. Ton. Fenton.

"Danny?" William asks.

"Yes, sir. He requested you."

That is all William needs to hear. "I'll be right there." He dives back to his desk, snatching his keys from the top door, and is out of the classroom before the doctor can say another word.

The hospital is far from the school, and the fact that it's the five o'clock rush doesn't help. Forty minutes is a long time to spend in silence. William tries the radio after the first couple of red lights leave him with spinning thoughts. He flicks through the channels but can't focus enough to know if he's listening to music or commercials. It becomes another layer of noise on top of the hurricane in his head and he shuts it off soon enough.

Danny Fenton is in the hospital and William is his emergency contact. Was there another lab accident? It's possible. It would explain why his parents aren't being called if they were there, if they were hurt, too. And Jasmine. William can't remember if she's eighteen yet or not. Maybe, maybe not. She's not his student anymore—graduated early and went to college. Even if she is an adult now, she's out of state.

The Fenton children have an aunt, William thinks, although he's not sure. He doesn't make a habit of knowing his student's extended families unless they're also his students. Like Mikey and Lester, who are cousins. Or Star Delisle and Lance Thunder, niece and uncle. William remembers Lance. Nightmare student. Always worried about his hair during gym class. Unsurprising that he changed his name to suit his field of work. Maybe Tiffany Snow's name is made up, too.

William doesn't know if Danny has anyone else.

He resists the urge to step on the gas when he hits the last block, nearly runs the last light. His good sense gets the better of him, though, and he stops when he sees the yellow. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. This is fine. Everything is fine. The doctor hadn't sounded worried, not life-or-death worried. At least William didn't think so, but they only exchanged a few words, and he missed half of them thanks to his desk.

When the light turns green, William slams his foot on the gas and lurches across the intersection, tearing into the parking lot that waits just on the other side. He walks, walks, not sprints—although it is a very brisk walk with pumping arms and huffed breaths—through the door and right up to the front desk.

"My name is William Lancer. I was called as an emergency contact for Danny Fe–"

"Mr. Lancer!" a shout pulls his attention to the left hall. A woman in dark red scrubs and a doctor's coat stands at the entrance. She glances around the room, shooting the nurse at the desk an apologetic look, and strides over. "William Lancer?"

"Yes," he says. "Dr. Alejo?”

"Good. Come with me. And be discreet if you can."

"Discreet?" Shouting his name from across the room wasn't exactly discreet. And neither is the way she keeps glancing over her shoulder. At first, he thinks she's checking to see if he's following her, but after the third time, he realizes she is looking behind him. The next time she looks back, William does the same and finds nothing out of the ordinary. Nurses. Doctors. A patient walking the hall. Some lingering visitors.

They cross a red line after a few turns and here, Dr. Alejo grabs William’s arm and steers him around the next bend toward an elevator.

"I'm sorry, I'm confused. Is– is Danny okay?" William asks.

Dr. Alejo hits the down button before looking up at him. "So you really know him?"

"Excuse me?"

"Danny? You know him?"

"I– uh. Of course, I do. He's my student."

"Oh. I'm sorry. That must be hard."

William blinks, taken aback, and a little insulted on Danny's behalf. Not that she's wrong. Danny is a challenging student, but he works hard. "Is he okay?"

"I guess that's pretty relative, isn't it?"

William doesn't think so. A simple yes or no will answer his question.

"He's–" Dr. Alejo snaps her mouth shut when the sound of footsteps approaches. Someone in scrubs darts past their hall. The elevator opens then, and Dr. Alejo pushes William inside before anyone else can pass. She hits a button labelled B.

“I couldn’t look him over in the clinic, or anywhere upstairs. Too many people,” she says. “So, I brought him down here. It's a bit of a weird situation. I didn't even know ghosts could bleed, but they can control plants, and the weather, so why not?"

She laughs. To William’s ears, it sounds a bit hysterical, but he might be projecting because Dr. Alejo just used the word ghost to refer to his student and he can't quite process that. Danny. Ghost. There could be a hundred reasons for that. His parents are ghost hunters after all.

That number quickly narrows when the elevator doors open, and William sees a sign pointing left and right. First to the loading bay, and second toward the morgue.

Please go left. Please go left.

Dr, Alejo turns right.

"I would have told you to park by the loading bay, so you could enter through the door down here, but just as well. It should stay clear in case an ambulance comes. Oh, don't worry," she says when she sees William’s stricken expression. "The loading bay has an entrance for the first floor, too, so no one should be coming down here. The basement entrance is just for when people come to pick up bodies."

She opens the morgue door and disappears inside.

William hesitates. What is he going to see when he steps through that door? His student, cold and dead, laid out on a metal slab? But... Dr. Alejo didn't say he was dead. She said he was fine, relatively. William is here as an emergency contact, not someone to identify the body. He doesn't remember taking the few steps toward the door. The handle is cold under his palm.

"Danny!" Dr. Alejo's voice comes through the door, caught between a whisper and a shout. "If you ran away I swear I'm going to hunt you down! You better not have ripped your stitches!"

A click followed by a thunk. A deadpan: "Really, Danny?"

William turns the knob and opens the door. It takes a good while to process the sight before him. Dr. Alejo stands before a wall of metal doors, holding at shoulder height open. She gives the opening a familiar look, the same kind of look William gives his students when they are being particularly rowdy or disobedient. The same look he gives one student in particular.

"Sorry!" a familiar voice says from inside the cabinet. "I just heard someone coming and panicked."

"So you hid?"

"Yes."

"In a body drawer."

"Is that really what they're called?"

"Can't you turn invisible?"

A moment of silence. "Yes. Yes, I can."

"Can you explain what's going on here?" William asks.

Dr. Alejo lets go of the door and steps away. A head emerges. Familiar, yes, but not the head he expected. Not the Danny he expected.

"Um, hi, Mr. Lancer. Care to be my guardian for a few hours?" Danny Phantom peeks out from the body drawer and smiles.

—

Submitted by @ecto-american: When Danny gets admitted to the hospital as Phantom, he’s asked if he has anybody who could come be with him since he's a minor. Not sure who else to pick, he requests Mr. Lancer to come.

Submitted by @ave-aria: Lancer & Danny, reveal fic.

Next

#phic phight #phic phight 2022 #unluckyalis #danny phantom #lancer #mentor lancer #parental lancer #oc #in case of emergency #phicc #phanfic #danny phantom fanfiction #tumblroneshots

[kinglazrus]

Where You Belong

Phic Phight 2022 for @ghostlyhabato

AO3 | FFN

Summary: Danny wonders about the nature of his existence and gets a lesson in what it means to be a ghost.

Word count: 2325

—

Ever since Danny was little, stars have soothed him in a way that nothing else can. His mom sometimes tells him about childhood tantrums where she tried for hours to calm him down. Nothing ever worked. Nothing except taking him out to the back porch to see the night sky. His tears would dry. His cries would quiet into soft murmurs. His face, scrunched and red the way any toddler's face gets when they cry, would smooth out and fill with wonder as he stared up at the stars. All his life, they have provided him with a kind of comfort he can't explain.

Now, for the first time Danny can ever recall, he looks up to the stars and still feels a yawning emptiness inside of him. They are beautiful, tonight. So beautiful. Especially from this high up. When Danny first got his powers, he feared flying up too high, even though desperately wanted to. The thought of the chill air, high winds, and lessened oxygen frightened him. Over time, however, he worked his way up, until he realized the cold didn't bother him. The wind could pass right through him. And oxygen... Danny had learned a while ago that breathing, for him, is more of a habit than a necessity.

Thanks to all of that, he can easily fly high enough into the air that light pollution doesn't matter. He can see the stars in all their glory. But the gnawing feeling in his chest remains.

This is where Clockwork finds him at three in the morning. The only thing announcing his presence is the puff of icy air that leaves Danny's throat. He thinks it's one of his many enemies at first, but when he catches sight of a purple cloak at the edge of his vision, he relaxes. Despite being Clockwork's ward ever since the future incident, they rarely interact. Still, Danny enjoys the bond they share. It feels familial.

Not like father and son—they don't speak nearly enough for that. But to Danny, Clockwork is like a weird uncle he sees on special occasions who also happens to be able to control time.

They float in silence for a while, long enough for the stars to shift. In the distance, the first rays of sunlight break over the horizon. It will be a few hours still before that light touches Amity Park.

"What brings you out of the Ghost Zone?" Danny asks.

"The same thing that always does."

"Ah, tacos." Danny doesn't need to look to know Clockwork is giving him an unimpressed stare. "One of these days you will be here for tacos. When that day comes, I'll be ready."

"Care to tell me why you are out here at this hour? You do have school tomorrow."

"Gee, Mom. Thanks for telling me." Danny turns toward the rising sun and basks in the glow. "You already know why I'm here."

"So what if I do?"

Danny considers playing stubborn. If he does, well, they can sit in silence and watch the sunrise together. The emptiness inside him might grow, but it's been growing for a while now, already. Hanging on to these thoughts for a little longer won't make any difference. If he doesn't, if he gives in, then.... then... He can't think of a downside. It annoys him. He wants there to be a downside, so he has an excuse not to talk.

He peeks at Clockwork. While Danny turned to face the sun, Clockwork still has his face to the stars. His eyes are closed. A content smile graces his lips. Danny's eye twitches. Clockwork came here knowing which option Danny would choose. That makes him want to go with whatever the opposite choice is, but Clockwork would know that, too. He knows everything. it's kind of his whole schtick.

"You infuriate me," Danny says.

Clockwork cracks an eye open and glances at him. "I know.

Danny groans. What are the chances that he can wait out the Master of Time? Clockwork must have duties he has to get back to. The only thing is, being the Master of Time and all that, he can do his duties whenever he wants.

"Yes, I can."

"You can't read minds!" Danny snaps.

"Perhaps not. But there is a timeline where you said your thoughts aloud just then. I don't need to hear your thoughts; I just need to hear a version of you speak them."

"Like I said, infuriating." Danny bites down on his tongue for as long as possible, determined to waste as much of Clockwork's time as he can.

Clockwork chuckles.

"Can you stop that? I'm trying to be upset and brooding and you're ruining with your... with all of you. Just stop."

"If you insist."

The silence returns. Peaceful. Quiet. Annoying as hell when he knows Clockwork is still floating beside him. Danny flips onto his stomach and opens his mouth.

"You are a ghost," Clockwork says before a word can leave his lips.

"Wrong. I was going to ask—"

"Tomatoes are my favourite vegetable."

"But what about—"

"Mariana's Trench. It's peaceful there and I enjoy the darkness."

"Okay, but what—"

"Penguins."

"Well, were you ever—"

"No."

Danny goes quiet. Finally, Clockwork faces him rather than the stars.

"Is something wrong?" Clockwork asks.

"Is your answer really no?"

Clockwork smiles. A genuine smile, rather than a smirk. "Yes. I was never a human."

Danny mulls over Clockwork's answer for a while. He expected Clockwork to say no. Even if he looks somewhat human, there's an energy about him that Danny can't explain. Ghosts like Kitty, Johnny, and Technus don't have that. But others do. Nocturne, for example, and Vortex. The few times he has met them, Danny can feel that same energy around the Observants. Strangest of all, however, is the traces of it he finds on Skulker whenever they clash.

Danny didn't notice it for a while. When he first got his powers, the only distinctions he could make between ghosts—from sense alone—was if they were or were not ghosts. Dead person? Ghost sense! Not a dead person? No ghost sense. Except Clockwork, and many others, aren't dead people.

"What makes someone a ghost?" Danny asks.

"A lot of things, actually." Clockwork waves his arm and four portal appear in the air before them. Each one looks out on a different ghost Danny has fought at some point in his life. Ember, Undergrowth, and Ghostwriter. The fourth portal contains a blurred haze that Danny can't make out yet. "I've been meaning to give you this lesson for a while, but time slips away so easily."

"I find that hard to believe."

"You would be surprised how quickly the passage of time gets away from you when you have lived as long as I have." Clockwork makes a beckoning motion and the first portal, watching Ember, comes forward and grows larger. "Humans have this erroneous habit of referring to anything that comes from the Infinite Realms as a ghost."

"But... we are, aren't we?" Danny asks.

"Indeed, but not the way you think. When humans think of ghosts, they think of dead things. They aren't entirely wrong. Dead people and animals can become ghosts, but they aren't the only kind of ghosts. They are Spirits."

Danny shakes his head. "I don't get it."

"Think of it this way. A blue jay is a bird, but not all birds are blue jays."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Dead people are ghosts but not all ghosts are dead people."

"Exactly." With a flick of his fingers, Clockwork dismisses the image of Ember. Undergrowth comes forward next. "All living beings have a spirit. When they die, that spirit goes to the Infinite Realms. Some, as you know, become ghosts. But others disperse. They are finished with living—in any form—and cease to exist. But their essence has to go somewhere. The Infinite Realms absorbs that essence. Sometimes, there is a likeness in them, and that combines with ectoplasm and forms an Embodiment. Any guesses on what that means?"

"They embody something?" Danny asks.

"Ideas, typically. They come together into a single body and tend to have highly focused powers."

"Like Vortex and Nocturne." Danny thinks hard on the last time he fought either of them. Everything about them is different, from their aura to their appearance, to their abilities, but they give off the same feeling of unity. It's the only word Danny can think of to describe it. Vortex feels like a storm. Undergrowth feels like cool rain in a forest. Nocturne feels like a quiet night. They are what they are and nothing else. "I think I get it. Skulker feels like them."

"He is young for an Embodiment. It will be some time before his true power emerges."

"You mean it's not just hunting things?" Danny asks wryly.

"The third type is ghosts like me." The image of Ghostwriter comes near. "We don't have a particular name, and many times we are erroneously lumped in with Embodiments. But we have existed for eons and have reality-altering powers. I couldn't tell you what makes us because I don't know. We have simply always existed."

Danny eyes the image of Ghostwriter. "Are you sure? Ghostwriter seems... He's just a guy who's a little too into his stories."

"He can also alter the fabric of reality with a few keystrokes. You're lucky your only interaction with him went so well. There are other timelines where it didn't."

That had been a good interaction with Ghostwriter? Everyone hated him. He hated himself. He can't imagine how that could have been worse. Then again, with the power to alter reality... Danny shudders. He really did get off easy.

"Okay, so, there's basically no such thing as ghosts," Danny concludes. He swipes his hand through the third portal Ghostwriter's image dissolves into nothing. "Humans just call a bunch of things ghosts when they aren't."

"No, that's not what I said."

"Well, then what are you saying? Because I'm not any of those things! I'm not dead. I don't embody anything. I'm definitely not some ancient being as old as time. Look at me!" Danny stretches his arm out, transforming the limb halfway. "I'm not human, but according to your little lesson, I'm not a ghost either. I don't breathe, but I'm alive. I have ghost powers, but I'm not dead."

Danny curls in on himself, finally asking the question that has plagued him ever since his accident. "What am I?"

Halfa, other ghosts called him, but what did that mean? It's a name for a thing they don't understand. There is no one like Danny, except for Vlad, and he hates knowing he shares anything with that man. Just two freaks stuck between life and death.

A hand rests on Danny's head. He curls tighter, hugging his knees to his chest and hiding his face behind his hair. Clockwork pats his hair a few times. He isn't a physical being. The pats are too heavy, and he holds his arm so stiff that Danny can feel the awkwardness even without looking. As far as comforting touches go, Clockwork's pats fall dead last on Danny's list. Even Vlad's annoying hair ruffles are better than this. But it draws Danny out of his tight ball, anywhere. He lifts his head, at first to a face full of Clockwork's glove. Clockwork shifts his hand up and gives him a few more heavy pats.

"Weren't you listening to anything I said?"

Danny sniffs and rubs his eyes. "Yeah."

"Obviously not. What was the very first question of yours that I answered?"

"You're not here for tacos."

"Not that one."

Danny has to go over their conversation a couple of times before he can come up with another answer. "You'll stop because I insist."

Clockwork rolls his eyes. Danny considers that a great personal accomplishment.

"The third question, then." Clockwork puts on an exasperated air. A younger Danny might have fallen for it, but now, he's aware that Clockwork knows exactly how the conversation would go and is merely indulging him. It still brings a smile to Danny's face.

"I didn't actually get to ask that question."

"Ask away, then."

Danny takes a deep breath. "Am I a ghost?"

Again, Clockwork sets his hand on Danny's head. It's much softer this time, though. His thumb moves back and forth, stroking Danny's hair. He leans into the touch and closes his eyes. The gloves make Clockwork's hands bigger. With his eyes closed, it makes Danny think of his father, coming into his room to wish him goodnight when he was little. Always with a kiss on the forehead and a hand in his hair.

"You are a ghost," Clockwork says. He pulls the final portal forward. The hazy image inside clears. Inside, Danny sees himself. He sees the Behemoth. He sees Box Lunch, blob ghosts, the ectopuses, and Vlad's mutant animal ghosts. He sees so many different creatures that he has and hasn't met.

"I don't recall saying there were only a few types of ghosts. A ghost is anything that belongs in the Infinite Realms. And as long as ectoplasm runs through your veins, you belong here. There will always be a place for you here, Daniel. Don't forget that."

Danny closes his eyes again. He feels the weight of Clockwork's hand long after it disappears. By the time Danny opens his eyes, Clockwork is gone, and the sun is peaking over the curve of the Earth. Danny tilts his head back and looks up at the stars. They're fading, now, with the sun's light shining on them. He's not far enough up into the atmosphere to see them in the daylight. He smiles, anyway, and leans back, folding his arms behind his head.

He still has a good hour of starlight left. May as well enjoy it while he can.

—

Prompt: Okay everybody hated the 'ghosts are actually just aliens nobody is dead people' take, but like… are ALL ghosts dead people? Including Box Lunch? What about Youngblood's Parrot? The Behemoth? Pariah's Skeleton army? Fright Knight's horse Nightmare? If yes, explain some of the non-human, mindless, or other strange circumstances. If no… well, what makes a ghost a 'ghost'?

#phic phight #phic phight 2022 #unluckyalis #danny phantom #phicc #phanfic #danny phantom fanfiction #tumblroneshots #danny fenton #clockwork #minor existensial crisis #guardian clockwork

[kinglazrus]

The Punishment Fits the Crime

Chapter 2: Actions Have Consequences

Previous | Next | AO3 | FFN

Chapter summary: Make sure there are no cops around before you assault someone.

Word count: 4056

Warnings: panic attack

—

Danny watches the scabs on his knuckles crack and bleed. It stings. Every time he flexes his hands, the healing skin tears back open. The splits in his knuckles aren't large enough to bleed a concerning amount; but when he picks at them, thin traces of blood seep out into the wrinkles of his skin. A layer of pink over pale white.

The elevator to his left dings as the car arrives. He hears his dad's voice before the doors even open. "Where is he?"

Danny, so used to hiding his wounds from his parents, instinctively tries to tuck his hands into his hoodie pocket. He can't, though, thanks to the handcuffs. The fabric bunches between his fists, caught by the chain connecting the cuffs. It looks stupid, but the elevator doors are open now, and the bunched fabric covers the words of his knuckles, so he keeps them like that.

His parents come barrelling out of the elevator, leaving a frazzled police officer behind. The cop is plastered into the corner of the elevator car, uniform rumpled and hat off-kilter. Danny shakes his head at the guy. He doesn't feel sorry for the cop—that's the one who arrested him, after all—but he knows the horror of being trapped in a small space with two very frantic Fentons.

Danny's mother sees him first. He smiles sheepishly at her, hoping that will somehow lessen the blow of the situation. It doesn't. Maddie swoops in, tears springing to her eyes, and takes Danny's face in her hands.

"Oh my God, Danny, what happened?" Her thumb caresses his cheek, tracing the edges of his black eye. "We got a call saying that you were in a fight." She reaches down to take his hands in hers. Danny tries to pull away, but there's nowhere for him to go. It only takes Maddie a second to notice the cuffs. She reels back.

"What are these?" She grabs Danny's hands and raises them up. A soft gasp escapes her as she takes in his battered knuckles and the handcuffs. She rounds on the nearest officer. "Why is my son in handcuffs? He's fourteen."

"Mrs. Fenton." It's the arresting cop. He has yet to recover from the elevator ride up to the third floor, cheeks still flushed.

"Dr. Fenton," Maddie corrects him.

"Doctor, sure. Your son was involved in a fight with three other boys. Some serious injuries were sustained. He assaulted them."

Well, when he puts it like that, sure, it sounds bad. The cop gives Danny a chastising look. Danny doesn't feel chastised, though. He feels... a lot of things, actually. Satisfaction, first of all. When the rush of the fight was over and Danny stood tall over his victim, a warmth rushed through him. The feeling of a job well done. It didn't matter that the cop was already wrestling him into the back of a cruiser at that point. He remembers looking at Big Mouth laid out on the cracked pavement and smiling. It wasn't until the cruiser door slammed shut and Danny realized what exactly was happening that he felt anything else.

"Some boys from Elmerton," the cop continues.

"And where are they?" Maddie asks.

"Two of them are here, detained for underage drinking."

"Not assault? Look at my son's face. What if I want to press charges?"

The cop shakes his head. "Ma'am, according to their accounts, your son attacked them unprovoked. Anything they did is considered self-defence."

"It wasn't unprovoked," Danny mutters.

"Danny?" His mom tilts his face up toward hers. He looks at her, but not into her eyes. The thin line of her lips tells him enough about what she's feeling. He doesn't want to see it in her eyes, too.

The second thing he felt after the fight hadn't actually been a feeling. It had been a realization. The knowledge that he should have been feeling something, at least anything other than satisfied. He spent twenty minutes in the back of the cruiser on their way down to the station. Alone, thank God. If they had put him in the same cruiser as those other two boys, he couldn't guarantee what condition any of them would have been in when they arrived.

He stared at the back of the cop's head for the entire ride and wondered what was wrong with himself. There had to be something wrong. Normal people didn't go around beating people up and feeling satisfied with it—unless you're Dash Baxter. But even that's different. Dash is a high school bully and a mediocre one at that. He gives people wedgies and shoves them in lockers, but he doesn't really hurt people.

He doesn't try to stab people with screwdrivers.

Danny knows he shouldn't feel good about this. He feels bad about feeling good. But he doesn't feel bad because he did it. It's like when he was little and stole Jazz's stuffed animals all the time. His parents always made him apologize, and he did. But only because he got caught, not because he regretted what he did. This is just like that. Except instead of stealing stuffed animals, it's breaking some guy's arms. He deserved it, too. What kind of person goes around mutilating birds, killing cats, or running over dogs for fun? They deserve to be hurt the way they make others hurt. It just makes sense.

"Danny."

He comes back to himself at the sound of his mom's voice. Right. Police station. He got arrested. He did something bad.

Maddie brushes Danny's hair away from his face. He still doesn't lift his gaze. If he lets his mom look into his eyes, she might notice what he's feeling. She has a way of doing that—it must be a mom thing—and he doesn't want that to happen. Doesn't want her to be disappointed in him for doing a good thing.

"They were hurting some birds," Danny says.

The cop sighs. "Which isn't a justifiable reason for assault, especially not sending someone to the hospital."

Jack gasps. Danny almost forgot about his dad. He peeks up through his fringe but has to look down at the floor almost immediately. Jack is staring right at him, his expression blank. Somehow, that's worse than all the judgemental looks he has gotten since arriving.

"What happened?" It's the first thing Jack has said since arriving, minus his exclamation from the elevator. Danny doesn't think that counts, though.

"According to the Elmerton boys, they were in town to pull a couple of harmless pranks on Casper High before today's game. Your son caught them and attacked. They say he had a weapon at first, but we didn't find one on him. Two boys—who are in the holding cells until their parents arrived—only suffered a few nasty bruises. The last boy..."

The cop's gaze settles on him. Danny refuses to squirm. He tilts his head back and meet's the cop's stare head-on.

"Both arms were broken. Shoulders dislocated. There is a cut on his cheek that could have been from some kind of weapon, but, as I said, we didn't find one on your son or on the scene."

Danny tries to keep the smile off his face. Honestly, he tries, but he feels that warmth again. Like an embrace. Like someone whispering thank you in his ear.

"What happens now?" Jack asks. His voice is as empty as his expression. Danny's smile falls when he hears it.

"That depends on the court's decision," the cop says.

Maddie makes a pained noise in the back of her throat.

"You have to understand, assault can be a serious offence. You said your son is fourteen? If the boys' injuries were any worse, there's a chance he could have been tried as an adult. Honestly, that's still a possibility if we find proof that he used a weapon. At the very least, he's probably facing some time in juvie."

Danny's breath catches in his throat. That's not right. That isn't fair. He didn't do anything wrong.

"The boy in the hospital also has the right to sue," the cop adds after a moment.

"Okay." Maddie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She steadies herself, letting go of Danny's hand and sitting next to him on the bench. "What happens right now?"

"Your son hasn't been very cooperative so far. He hasn't provided his account of the events and hasn't answered our questions. It was a pain in the ass just getting his name and phone number. I'm inclined to detain him here, in which case there would be a hearing in less than five days."

"You can't do that! He has school, and—he's only fourteen. you can't keep a fourteen-year-old in jail," Maddie protests.

"Mrs. Fenton—"

"Doctor."

"—when the situation calls for it, we are within our right to keep an adolescent detained."

Maddie glances at Danny. For the first time since she arrived, Danny meets her gaze. He doesn't know how to convey what he's feeling to her without giving himself away. He knows this is serious. He knows they think he did something wrong. But those Elmerton boys were killing birds and Danny just felt so angry. He always feels angry, now. It burns through him. It started as an ember with that first body and now it lights his blood on fire. The world is full of people that need to be punished.

Danny digs his nail under one of his scabs and rips it off. The sting makes him flinch.

"Give me ten minutes," Maddie says. She stands up, pulls her phone from her pocket, and walks away. The cop watches her go, shaking his head, before turning to Jack.

"Dr. Fenton—"

"It's just mister, actually."

The cop's face pinches. "Mr. Fenton, while your wife is busy, let me go over how things will proceed from here."

"Right. Yes. That would be good to know." Jack ruffles Danny's hair as he passes, following the cop to his desk.

Danny stays on the bench, continuing to pick at his scabs. They keep healing over no matter how much he picks at them. One of the benefits of a ghostly constitution, although not at this particular moment. He wants the sting of tearing skin. He needs to remind himself to feel something other than grim vindication.

Other than the busted knuckles and the black eye, two of his fingers are also taped. They were bothering him earlier when he was first arrested, but the twinges of pain have long since faded. He keeps the tape on for show. If they're here for much longer, someone is bound to notice that his bruises are slowly shrinking. He doesn't need them catching on that his hand is fine, too.

Jack sits with the cop at his desk, nodding slowly along with whatever he is saying. Danny wishes he could see his dad's face, to gauge his reaction. Or see if what he's hearing is good or bad. Probably bad. Attempting to stab someone with a screwdriver sounds like a serious offence. Tucked in a corner by the elevators, Maddie stands with her back to the room and her phone pressed against her ear. Danny strains to hear what she is saying. Despite it being two in the morning, there's a fair amount of noise in the station that makes it hard for Danny to hear. The occasional word rises above the din.

Assault. Hospital. Arrested. Lawsuit. It's not a great series of words. It doesn't tell him what he wants to know, though. Who did his mom call? She goes silent. Danny watches the clock that hangs over the elevator and counts the seconds. At forty-seven, his mom turns and scans the room. She looks at Jack, first, and then at Danny. They stare at each other for a while. Whoever she's talking to must like the sound of their own voice to be going on this long.

Maddie ends the staring contest, lowering her gaze to the floor. The call must be winding down because she turns away from her corner and takes a step forward.

"I'll repay you somehow. Thank you, Vlad."

The breath in Danny's lungs turns to ice. His body goes cold. Time stops ticking. That name hits him like an ectoblast to the gut. Danny watches his mom hang up her cellphone and return it to her pocket. She hugs herself. Even from his place on the bench, he notices how she trembles. The frown hasn't left Maddie's face since the cop first explained the situation, but it's different now, more profound.

Something in Danny cracks.

—

It only takes ten minutes. Ten minutes from the moment his mom hands up to Danny walking out of the police station unbound. He follows close behind his mom while Jack trails after, his hand on Danny's shoulder. Danny can't tell if the touch is meant to be comforting or punishing. Jack's grip is hard, but that's just how he is. His hugs always feel like he's about to crush your bones to dust.

The RV is parked on the sidewalk in front of the station. One of the benefits of getting called down at two in the morning Danny supposes. Quality parking. He'll have to remember that the next time he gets arrested. Maddie unlocks the RV and pulls the back door open for him.

"Mom," Danny says.

She pauses.

"Who were you on the phone with?" Although Maddie doesn't know the extent of Danny's relationship with Vlad—can't so long as she doesn't know about their ghost halves—she does know that Danny dislikes the man. It's one of the few things they can bond over nowadays. Nothing brings a mother and son together quite like the mutual hatred of a family friend.

"Just a friend," she says.

"Oh." Danny isn't sure what he expected. He isn't sure if he cares about the lie or not. "And... now? What happens now?"

"We go home and go to sleep. It's late. But there's a lot we have to talk about in the morning."

Danny nods and clambers into the back of the RV. Jack gives his shoulder a pat before sliding the door closed. Sleep sounds good right now. Danny is suddenly very tired.

—

No one comes to wake Danny up when it's time for school. He used to be good about waking up on time, but since taking up ghost hunting it has become harder and harder to keep up with good habits. As a result, Jazz has taken to being his personal alarm. He appreciates it most of the time.

Today, however, he wakes at his own pace. A beam of sunlight warms his face, slipping through the crack in his curtains. He turns toward it and pulls his covers up to his chin, relishing in the warmth. Moments like this are rare nowadays. He soaks it in, clinging to sleep for as long as possible. Outside his room, life goes on. Cars pass on the street outside. Some clangs around downstairs. The sound of birds and neighbours chatting drifts through his window. But here, inside these walls, he exists in a moment outside of time where the only thing that matters is how long he has before this side of his pillow gets too warm.

Eventually, Danny has to wake up, prodded by his sharpened senses. The sunlight across his face goes from warm to hot. The rumble of passing cars becomes a nuisance. Soft birdsong turns to piercing notes.

Danny opens his eyes at precisely ten fifty-seven a.m. and his moment of peace ends. He stretches, flexing stiff fingers. Some soreness lingers around his eye, but his injuries will have finished healing in the night. When he checks his knuckles, he finds the scabs replaced by pale pink skin. Whether or not the scars will stay remains to be seen. You can never tell when it comes to ghostly biology. Either way, the marks are small and easily dismissed.

He lays there a while longer, tracing star sticker constellations on his ceiling with his eyes. They're sloppy, as far as constellations go. Draco is too short. The Ursas have swapped places. Orion faces the wrong direction. In Danny's defence, he put them up when he was eight. Back then, he cared less about accuracy and more about wanting to see the night sky at any time of day. He even painted his ceiling black before putting them up, although he didn't tell his parents he was doing any of this until it was already done. He snuck a can of paint from the shed and a stepladder from the kitchen. He hadn't been able to find any paint brushes, though, so he smeared the paint across his ceiling with an old t-shirt. His carpet and bedframe still have stains from where the paint dripped down.

His mom had been so mad when she found out what he did. it was the maddest he had ever seen her. She cared less about the mess—although he still got a good scolding for that—than she did about his own safety. He could have slipped and hurt himself. He could have breathed in too many fumes since he was painting with his door and window closed. She ended up grounding him for two weeks.

Danny thinks his punishment this time is going to be a lot worse.

His clock reads eleven twenty-five by the time he finally drags himself out of bed. The noises downstairs are still going. He checks his phone on his way down, skimming through recent messages.

From: Sammykins | 1:37 a.m. Hope you didnt get in too much trouble for being late. See you tomorrow

From: Too Fine | 7:19 a.m. we have to get sam's backpack from her house meet u on the way to school?

From: Too Fine | 7:42 a.m. u coming down?

From: Too Fine | 7:46 a.m. Nvm. Spoke to jazz. Feel better dude

Danny wonders what excuse she made for him. Does she even know what happened last night? He doesn't have any more texts from her, and she hadn't been awake when they got home. Maybe she doesn't know. Danny tucks his phone into his pocket and peeks into his kitchen. His mom is here, whipping something in a bowl. It looks chocolatey. There is a full rack of cookies cooling on the counter and a baking sheet on the stove waiting to go in the oven. The table is covered in baking supplies, including an empty baking sheet and a bowl of cookie dough that has yet to be portioned.

"Good morning, Mom," Danny says.

Maddie stirs faster.

After a moment's hesitation, Danny shuffles into the kitchen and takes a seat at the table. He grabs a handful of dough and picks through the mixings. Butterscotch chips. Crumbled walnuts. Mini marshmallows. Chocolate dust. Plucking a marshmallow from the dough, he starts nibbling on it while he forms the dough into a ball. Once it's smooth enough to his liking, he sets it on the baking sheet and presses it flat. By now, he assumes that school just isn't happening for him today. Jazz is the one who always wakes him up, but when his parents are home, they try to usher him out the door in time for school. He fills the baking sheet a third of the way before Maddie finally sets her bowl down and joins him at the table.

"I'm not going to juvie, am I?" he asks.

"I'm not sure yet." Maddie picks up one of the cookies Danny formed and says, "This is too big." She tears the cookie into halves, passing one of them to Danny while she keeps the other. They reroll the cookies in silence for a while.

Jack must not be home. Danny's dad never misses an opportunity to munch on cookie dough, especially when Maddie is experimenting. The house is also too quiet. Jack has a way of making himself known, whether he means to or not. Making loud noises when he's excited. Stomping around from room to room. Danny misses that noise right now. The silence presses down on him.

"Danny, we need to have a talk," Maddie says.

Silence is actually amazing. Danny loves silence. He could live in silence forever.

"I love you, but I don't understand what happened. You said they were hurting some birds? Why did you attack them?

"It was a prank."

Maddie pales. "You hurt them as a joke?"

"No!" Danny waves his hands frantically. "I meant—there's a big game with Elmerton today and they always pull a prank on us the night before. When I found them, some of them were drinking, and they were hurting birds. Not just hurting them, mutilating them. Their wings and necks were broken."

"Danny, that's..." Maddie closes her eyes. "That's horrible, but that doesn't make what you did okay."

"But they were killing them for fun!"

"So you think what you did is justified?"

"Yes! Obviously!

"Daniel James Fenton, don't shout at me."

Danny slams his hands on the table. "The birds didn't do anything to them. They were just being birds!"

"Exactly, Danny. They were just birds. You don't break someone's arms over a bird. I'm sorry, I know those boys were doing something wrong, but that doesn't make what you did right."

"Why not?!" Danny's eyes burn. He doesn't remember standing up, but he is now. The air around him is hot. The table rattles beneath his palms.

"Danny, calm down—"

"Why is it okay for them to do that and not get punished for it? You don't just—they're not allowed to hurt someone like that and get away with it!" Danny paces around the table, hands buried in his hair.

Maddie's head snaps to the side as the chair beside her topples over. The whole room is shaking.

"Why don't you get it?!"

The kitchen lights buzz in Danny's ears. It makes his skin crawl. The noise digs into his brain like beetles burrowing into his skull. The room is too loud. Too small. Danny is suffocating. Why doesn't she understand? He can't let people get away with something so horrible. Those animals are hurting. Even after they're dead, they're in pain, and he can feel it in his core. They pull at him, wail in his ear, beg him to help them find peace. They won't leave him alone. Why can't they leave him alone?

Why is everything so fucking loud?

"God damn it!" Danny grabs the bowl of cookie dough and smashes it on the floor. The bowl explodes, glass flying everywhere.

"Danny!" His mom screams.

He snaps back to reality. The kitchen is a wreck. It's not just the bowl that is smashed. Chairs are knocked over. The cooling rack is on the floor, and the cookies themselves have crumbled to pieces. The bowl his mom has been whipping is smashed at her feet. And his mom... Danny's stomach drops. His mom is huddled in the corner of the room. Blood drips down her shin from a cut on her knee. She stares at him with fear in her eyes. Danny takes a step back. It breaks whatever spell settled over Maddie. She moves, skirting around the table. Danny thinks she is running away from him; but rather than heading for the door, she heads straight for him and throws her arms around him.

Danny freezes. Maddie squeezes him tight, running a gentle hand through his hair. He tries to hold himself together, biting his lip and clenching his fist. His shoulders shake. No, no. he's stronger than this, better than this. He's a hero. He fights off ghosts and avenges dead animals. He doesn't cry in his mother's arms. Those thoughts persist until his mom presses his head down and whispers to him, "It's okay, Danny. You're okay."

When Jack finally comes home twenty minutes later, he walks into the kitchen to find Maddie cradling Danny on the floor. Danny is half asleep but clings to his mother with all his strength. Beneath his fringe, his half-lidded eyes glow green. Maddie looks up at her husband and slowly shakes her head.

—

Next

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