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tales-of-the-ghost-zone · 2 months

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Misunderstandings AU.

Hello every one!! It's been a hot minute. I've been lurking but not posting xD. I am currently too sick to move around d and do stuff but not sick enough to be able to nap the day away and still sleep at night so I have decided to try and write out the next bits of stories and prompts I got. I apologize for ramblings and errors I still have a fever right now. THIS ONE IS LONG ALL. IT GOT AWAY FROM ME!

I was trying to string some of my stray prompts together and got this:

the events of DP happened minus PP. Danny age 20 has settled everything with his ghostly rogues and now no longer goes out heroing as phantom. He is the ghost prince as he is not fully dead (and is planning on living his full human life first).

In order to get a new start, he moved to Gotham (it has the second highest ecto-system in the world after Amity and Lady Gotham was thrilled to host her future king) and spends his days doing volunteer work to help settle his primary obsession, and does work part time at the Gotham observatory to feed his secondary space obsession.

He has finally balanced his life between both worlds, his parents know and accepted him (though he did change his name to nightingale to get away from the Fenton notary), he is dating the two loves of his life (is it really long distance if he can teleport?) The GIW was officially disbanded a year after he graduated. Our boy is thriving!

The rest of team Phantom (and Fentons)on the hand went the other direction. Either full-blown heroes or antiheros/villains. And unfortunately to the outside world look like they are having a four-way fight over a civilian Danny who ran away from his villain parents/ex-lovers.

Back when they were younger, tucker with the unintentional help of Technus, managed to create a server that used the ghost zone as its base point. It is untraceable, relatively undetectable, and has service so good that it can literally reach different dimensions. So, when things ramped up during their third year, all communications, chat rooms, photos as well as accounts viewing other online sites went into this server.

This worked wonderfully for team phantom as "dead zones"(ha) and worries of hacking suddenly became almost nonexistent and the Fentons who had recently cut off all work with the government after Danny's reveal were looking for new ways to hide their (to be revised) life's work from the prying eyes of the government.

Danny, who had recently gained a huge spike in power due to him taking the crown of fire in preparation for his upcoming coronation as crowned prince, chose to drop out of high-school mid year due to the GIW being able to track him much easier anytime he left the house. While not ideal this actually worked out well for Danny(He switched to online school and finished with high honors)

Sam, Tucker, Valerie, and the Fentons seniors on the other hand were very VERY unhappy that their son/ex/boyfriend/friend was basically being put on house arrest for existing and began their individual plans to fuck with the government. (Jazz is also not happy but is currently at Yale studying to be a psychologist for children with abusive/dramatic upbringings and is stuck avoiding talking about anything out of the ordinary as she needs to use a normal phone to talk with Danny without a way to charge her Fenton phone. Jazz has also changed her name to nightingale, while her parents were a bit hurt, they did understand wanting to make a name for yourself without being compared to your already doctor parents)

Tucker has started to hack the government through GIW servers. Spilling out government coverups and trying to cause as much of a media government conspiracy shit storm for them as possible. He chose to go under the code name Pharoah, making a name for himself in the underground as a hacker as formidable as oracle themselves. He, after everything, moves to Star City to begin his own very successful tech business.

FRAIR Inc. Took market's by storm showing to be one of the most promising up and coming tech companies spanning everything from cyber security to edge cutting medical tech. To the outside world, his employees were practically ghosts (litterally in some cases), slowly creeping up on giants like Wanye enterprise and Queen Industries. Hands down one of the best places to work for, even if the CEO was occasionally found near some shady things,Mr.Foley was proven innocent every time, and his very loyal employees were getting sick of other companies trying to compare him to creeps like Luther. (Tucker still kept an ear on anything related to Danny on the normal human servers in case the GIW reared thier ugly head)

Sam, much to everyone’s surprise reached back into her rich roots and makes the name Manson something to fear. She finally sits down with her parents, and they talk it out. All of it, her hurt, their hurt, the fights. It takes more than one conversation, a lot of tears, but they do work it out. Because her parents at the end of the day do care about her. They want their baby to be safe and happy and successful in what she does, and after talking about the GIW and how they have been targeting her and her friends, she is clearly not safe! Her parents agree to teach her all they know about throwing their weight around in high class social circles and how to tear apart "untouchable groups" financially and socially so thoroughly that there was no hope of recovery. Sam for her part agreed to her some of her parents requests as well, she would start representing the Manson name and act like a lady in public settings, attending more high class social gatherings and parties (with the stipulation that she would get to dress and be herself, she could be both goth and high class! her mother agreed admitting that she did secretly love her Gothic prom dress she had made two years ago) she later takes over leading their largest company in metropolis spreading her reach into outreach programs and environmental protection. She is slowly becoming metropolis' most beloved socialite generally making life miserable for both Lex and Superman.

Lex because the anti-ecto laws were passed under the radar during his stint as president and superman because while it may have been proven that the JL was not in fact ignoring their calls for help, she is still hella salty about all the shit team phantom went through and is petty. Also, their fights keep causing pollution and property damage! Danny got that shit under control a year in and without training! Step the fuck up boy scout!

The Mansons are thrilled to be able to brag about at galas with how much their company has grown since Sam took over and how proud they are of their "little girl" and "how much she cares about the environment and the less fortunate" all pink and fluff with sparkly blinders on, all the while Sam is standing slightly behind them, quite, dressed to the nines in a Morticia Addams-esc dress, smirking like she would eat you alive in a board room if you so much as breath wrong.

The Fentons senor really didn't change to much. They did cut ties with the government and instead have moved to selling self-protection devices that protect against humans and ghosts! They are still researching ghosts but have taken down as much of their published works as possible for revisions. They have instead turned from wanting to catch ghosts to wanting to meet any ghost willing to talk with them about ghost culture and biology.

They also start to "accidentally" target any GIW that comes within 100 feet of them, claiming how "oh I though we fixed that bug" or "sorry our gun seems to be malfunctioning". This leads a lot of Amity to realize how often the self-defence gadgets could "malfunction" weird how they only seemed to do that around GIW agents.

Valerie was the only one to go the official “hero” route. Having put the pieces together in second year after meeting Dani. Finally working up the courage Valerie had confronted team Phantom about Danny being Phantom. All the lies were aried out from both side, both sides working out thier problems and apologizing. Team phantom for not telling her the truth after Dani, and Valerie for her now admittedly unfair blaming of danny for her lifes problems. Having spent the past year coming to terms with herself about what she was truly angry about. The betrayal from her so called "friends" the A-listers, the life changes she was not prepared for, watching her dad slowly wear down as bills built up. She had needed an outlet, a scapegoat, and at the time, it had been easier to jump on the Ghosts are evil then to accept that this was her life.

During third year, Valerie buckled down on protecting what was really important to her. Taking a job under Manson incorporated Valerie took over as Sam's "body guard", slowly taking over the "physical threat" of things for team Phantom. Angry about being ignored by the JL Valerie (with the help of some vindictive ghosts and Dani) was able to track down and interrogate one John Constantine.

Apparently due to several misunderstandings Amity had been marked no entry to any JL member but JL dark, (which fair, Valerie also did not wish to deal with a possessed superman) but due to Phantom having been seen throughout history (damn vlad for stealing the infamap) Phantom had been mistaken for an accident protecter spirit.

Which for anyone versed in magic, you don't mess with that uninvited. It would be like walking into the home of a God and telling them to thier face, "I don't think your good/strong enough to protect your home, move and let me do it", which is a really fast way to get killed. You don't enter there unless you are invited by the spirit or a follower of the spirit on their request. Most humans don't understand that, so while the calles were listed and JLD was put on alert, unless danny called himself, they would not enter.

After hashing out that that Phantom was not in fact an ancient, and that yes kids who had called them were followers asking on his request , a very panicked JLD meeting was called with guest Red Huntress acting as a mediator for what needed to be done.

Working with the JDL the Anti-ecto laws were destroyed in just under a year and a half and the Red Huntress being given an offical spot on JLD as a ghost expert/excorsit learning under both Zatanna and Constantine. (Much to the amusement of most of team Phantom and the begrudging acceptance of Sam)

For her civilian life, Valerie still works with Sam as her head of security. They are pretty much best friends but they fight like cats and dogs about everything (to them it is friendly bickering with a limial edge, to others these two look like they are about to throw down). No one understands how Sam has not fired her or why she has not quit, but they are almost infamous for both their "fights" and for being an absolutely terrifying team to fight against. Lex learned the hard way not to interrupt one of their fights.

You may be wondering how this becomes a known problem. In true Danny luck he has run into a bunch of different bats as civilians.

damian volunteers at the same animal shelter and is put with him every time due to danny finding his "fighting spirit" cute instead of intimidating. Damian has an odd respect for "Nightingale", and will sometimes ask for his opinion on matters. "I don't need advise, I just wish to see it from a different perspective"

Tim (under the name Alvin) ran into him at the park when he was having a bad day and somehow wound up talking with Danny because "sometimes it helps to talk to someone who doesn't know you, gives you a non-biased opinion."

Danny lives in crime ally. It's cheap and he feels at home with all the gun shots. Red hood is worried AF about the really nice and helpful guy who gives snack to his street kids and takes the working girls out on "dates" genuinely treating them like queens. The resonce "oh my parents weapons used to "mis-fire" all the time when I was a kid" was not what he was expecting to hear after noticing how calm he was after a gun fight broke out on his block.

Eventually, the bats realize that the person each of them have mentioned is the same guy, panic thinking that he is actually someone sent by an enemy, only to find out from. Oracle that no technically THEY are the ones stalking him because he was there long before they started showing up and they kept going back.

The bats settle only to panic again when oracle revealed that when double checking he background that he seems to be a run away from his crazy villan parents who are still calling him despite him not answering for three years and changing his name to get away from them. (danny keeps reminding his dad to use the "phantom network"to make calls. He keeps forgetting.)

There are multiple signs that her rival Pharoah seems to be stalking the guy all across his very limited social media, and after digging more she is pretty sure her guess on him being the CEO of FRAIR Inc. Tucker Foley Is true. More horrifying based off the very old social media that she found, Danny used to be very close friends with both Tucker and the ruthless Sam Manson who has been slowly causing both Lex Luther and Superman a media shit storm like never seen before.

After talking with some of their old classmates, it was confirmed that both of them were VERY possessive of Danny before he ran away.

Even more concerning, it seems the rumors of him having a very passionate fling with the red Huntress were true. Nightwing (because for some unexplained reason Red Huntress has serious onesided beef with the origanal members of the JL) had almost lost his head when he tried to casually bring it into conversation with her.

Saying about how if they so much as sniffed around Danny as thier hero "fursonas" she would personally see to it that the Wayne's suffered a long list of unfortunate incidents. She had left Danny to keep him safe and had enough trouble watching the "other four" that she didn't need and bats sticking thier noses where they didn't belong and dragging him back into the crazy.

Dick had come home shaken and with a new perspective and respect of the level of commitment Red Huntress had in defending her old flame. Like getting a job just to keep an eye on his other crazy exs and parents. Commitment. And maybe a bit obsessed holy shit, he thought the bats were bad.

The only safe one seems to be his sister, who left a year before he did, making daily phone calls and messages trying to convince he beloved little brother to get away from that crazy town and come to stay with her. She seemed to be the only one who Danny still talked to. (Ecto can make emotions more volatile, and as a therapist, jazz wanted to keep as many outside factors far away from her patients, meaning she still can't charge her phantom phone, its normal phone calls or nothing).

Danny is obviously to all of this 😀.

I may add small snips to this as it was a way to tie small scenes together. But yah. Again sorry for mistakes I wrote these on my phone! And fever is still a thing...

As always feel free to borrow/add on to this! Love to see where stories go, just tag me if you start a new post so I can read it please!!!

Take care! -Nutcase42

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tales-of-the-ghost-zone · 2 months

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Happy @valentines-core-exchange !!!!

@lavendarlily I was you sectret gifter >:) I had lots of fun with your Prompts: Silly goofy fluff, sharing clothes and KISSIES!!!

BONUS ART

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tales-of-the-ghost-zone · 3 months

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Okay but no cause now I need this to be three different stories!

The first story solely from the BatFam and Gotham’s pov and it’s the high stakes murder mystery thriller. Like no indication that it’s a crossover with DP at all. All we read is people vanishing after a week and the BatFam thinking it’s a serial killer, and fuck this killers kill count is up in triple digits in less than a month! Until the last chapter of the fic where the Batfam finally catches up with the killer and surprise it’s Danny Fenton/Phantom.

The first fic ends on the reveal of the “killer” being Danny. The second fic is solely from Danny’s point of view. Starts off on the day he moves to Gotham! And we see him realize just how many ghosts are haunting the city and that they can’t move on, on their own. So he starts helping them. He’s completely oblivious to the towns panic as people keep disappearing, so much so that it’s not even mentioned in this fic. And then at the end of the fic we get Danny coming across the Batfam after helping the latest ghost move on. The fic ends.

The third and final fic would be the Batfam finally finding out that Danny isn’t actually a serial killer. And Danny finding out that this whole time people had thought he was a serial killer!

A Week (He Will Take You)

Danny moved to Gotham for school, while there he noticed that Gotham's ambient ecto was really murky for lack of a better word.

This didn't really affect him too much besides a mild headache every once in a while but that also just might be stress from all his school work so maybe not.

Anyway

This murky ecto seemed to effect the people who lived there or more importantly the ghosts,

They were visible to the human eye like most ghosts back in Amity but instead of looking very much like a ghost they still looked like humans if a bit off putting.

They all seemed to be continuing their normal lives as if still fully alive, with the people around them none the wiser.

Danny noticed this and began approaching them to figure out what was going on.

Apparently the murky ecto in the city had made it so that they were strong enough to still continue a somewhat normal life but not be able to cross over to the GZ.

In other words they were stuck in Gotham

Danny was the Ghost King so he could easily fix this problem, all he needed to do was give them a bit of pure ecto for around a week to fully stabilize them them then he would just open a portal into the GZ and they could cross over with all their things also transferring into the GZ for their new haunt.

Unfortunately this looked rather worrying to an outsider,

Imagine you're used to your neighbor being very outgoing so you and others see them a lot suddenly this man seems to appear in their life out of nowhere an at exactly one week, your neighbor and all their belongings in their home disappear no trace to be found.

You tell people and they begin saying the same story they knew someone and them a man with black hair and blue eyes appeared in their life, then they and all their things disappear in exactly one week.

Of course the police in Gotham do the bare minimum so they're no help.

But it starts to begin a trend, especially online.

"Oh careful or the blue eyed man will make you disappear in a week"

This of course after time catches the bats attention, Gordon had already given them all the information he had.

"Young adult early twenties, dark hair, blue eyes"

That was it.

The bats look into it and from their point of view Danny is a serial killer.

But they can't find the connection between all of his victims, they range from young children and the elderly from different backgrounds absolutely no connection,

Worrying enough he doesn't just make one person disappear he has taken entire families up to over a dozen, without anyone figuring out how he's doing it or why at all.

The disturbing thing also being that he seems to take everything in their home, leaving it like it has always been empty

Like no one had been living in it.

People have tried to take photos of Danny get some kind of evidence of his existence, but when they try to do it, it either comes out completely corrupted or their devise simply shuts down fully.

Danny of course has no clue what is happening he's just happy that he's able to help so many ghosts, and is trying not to fail his exams.

Danny leaving the house he just helped: "That went easier than I expected!"

Neighbor peeking from the window: "Shit it's that guy! "

Red Hood marching down into the cave: " The fucker took many from my territory without me even realizing it!"

Tim: "I'm pretty sure his kill count is nearing the hundreds and he just started like maybe 4 months ago, this is bad."

Barbara: " I think I got a theory, this matches up with the new school year beginning so maybe their not a Gotham native which narrows down my suspect list."

Bruce: "Hn."

Tim: "Yes thank you B for the insightful commentary"

Danny trying not to fall asleep while on his way to class: "Strange I keep seeing shadows following me, oh well must be the stress!"

Bats who are pretty sure Danny is the killer: "Has he done anything suspicious yet?"

Just an Idea

#danny phantom #batman #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #we got the batfam in a high stakes movie with them running around and slamming their fists on tables yelling shit like we're too late #meanwhile we got danny listening to someone tell their life story crying and learning they are loved and it's all tear filled smiles and #“im ready to go home”#miscommunication #accidental serial killer #but not really #unreliable narrators

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tales-of-the-ghost-zone · 3 months

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DPXDP Prompt #61

In one universe Damian was sent to live with his father at age 10, in another he winds up escaping Nanda Parbat to America after faking his death. He changed his name to Danny and moves in with a family called the Fentons. Danny dies and is revived by the portal and even becomes king of the infinite realms.

Danny falls through a portal into Gotham but not his universes Gotham but one where he becomes Robin instead. He and Robin meet and of course this version of him assumes Danny’s a clone. Everyone else is just confused and Danny just wants to go home to his universe or does he since the GIW doesn’t exist in this universe…

Master Post:

Parts:

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tales-of-the-ghost-zone · 3 months

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Idea: The Dead and the Living hear things, names in particular, differently, partly just because Ghost Physics Are Different and partly because Identity is a Big Deal in the afterlife. So while to a human "Danny" and "Dani" sound identical, to a ghost they're the same amount similar as "Bob" and "Rob." The two of them tend to forget that and genuinely don't understand why Sam and Tucker keep getting their names confused without context. They always know which one is being referred to, after all.

Some interesting exceptions:

-Jazz can hear the difference because Big Sister Powers.

-Valerie can hear the difference because I'm fully convinced that her second suit makes her at least 20% ghost.

-Vlad can't hear the difference despite being part ghost because he sucks and refuses to use or acknowledge their preferred nicknames.

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tales-of-the-ghost-zone · 4 months

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He could overlook a lot of things, but this was getting ridiculous. You’d think seasoned vigilantes would have better excuses prepared, but Danny had caught that flash of panic that crossed Tim’s face as Danny came face to face with Tim dragging an unconscious Steph to her designated room in the manor.

“Uh.”

“Danny! Uh, Stephanie brained herself- uh, sliding down the bannisters and- pleasedon’ttellBruce.”

Danny blinks, staring at Tim and then very pointedly, very slowly, turned his head back towards the direction he came from: the main hall… where the bannisters were. He wonders what vigilante hijinks they were trying to hide from B this time.

Tim coughs, trying to inch Stephanie away. “Uh. She was doing… cartwheels?”

Danny let his eyes slowly take in the bruises that were clearly not from “cartwheeling in the mansion” on the both of them. There’s a huge bandaged cut on Steph’s forearm and a giant bruise on the edge of Tim’s jaw. Tim’s face twitches nervously, not that anyone else would have noticed- except Danny has enhanced ghost senses and could feel the panic coming off of his adopted brother.

“You know…” Shit, what does he do? Not knowing would be so much easier if these idiots gave him good excuses! “I don’t think I want to know what you two have been up to… but should I be worried for your, uh, physical health?”

“Nope!”

“… Okay.” He says. Tim opens his mouth to make further excuses but Danny adds quickly, “But don’t tell me, because if Bruce asks, I want plausible deniability.”

Cartwheels, Danny’s ghostly ass. Luckily, this show of doubt reaffirms Tim’s belief that Danny believes them all of the other times. Danny grins inwardly, planning capitalizing on the guilt that flashed over Tim’s face.

“Deal.”

“Want help?” The halfa points at Steph, who’s still being dragged over the carpet by a noodle armed Tim. Danny knows Tim’s strong, he’s a vigilante, but it’s funny watching him pretend to struggle.

“Please. I’m so tired right now.” He looks it too. Danny’s brows furrow with genuine concern when he takes in Tim’s drowned raccoon look. He picks up Steph, firmly removing her from Tim’s suddenly weak grip. Being careful to avoid her injuries, Danny nods at the door to her room. Tim cracks it open and does a little showy gesture towards the inside.

“C’mon, we’ll tuck her in and then I’ll tuck you in.”

“What, you don’t have to do that.”

“If you don’t let me tuck you in and make sure you sleep, I’ll tell Alfred who really accidentally poured boiling hot coffee on his azaleas last week. And I’ll sic Dick on you and tell him you haven’t been sleeping enough.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Tim grumbles. “But fine. It’s really not my fault I’m this tired. A missing spleen is hard to handle, you know.”

“Yeah, missing an organ sucks,” Danny says, shit eating grin hidden long enough to catch the contemplative bloodhound look that passes over Tim’s face.

“Which- uh, which one of your organs is missing?”

“Liver.” Danny says, remembering the flashes of pain. He tilts his head away to hide the grin at Tim’s panicked face.

When he tucks Tim in, he pretends to believe Tim’s sleeping act and left his room while mumbling about the Wayne’s clumsiness and bruises and stocking up on bruise cream. He couldn’t even enjoy Tim’s floundering, this time, worried as he is.

——

“Brother.” Danny half turns his head, just to beam a sunny smile at Cass. He signs an exuberant hello. The halfa hangs up his coat as he addresses his adopted sister.

“Cass! What’s up?”

“Dinner.” She smiles back, signing that Alfred wanted them to the dinning room post haste. The main dining room, because rich people were fruit loops and Batman is totally included. Cassandra looks down and gasps.

What…?

Oh. Fuck. Danny glances down. He genuinely forgot about that.

“Huh.”

“Okay?” Suddenly, Cass is right next to him, hand reached out and hovering over the actual knife Danny forgot was sticking out of him. At least it’s where his liver should be, so he won’t have to pretend.

“Oh. Yeah, I’m good. Don’t have a liver.” Danny decides on the spot that he’s not gonna mess with Cass. She smiled the same as him. “Got mugged on the way back but I think they said I could keep the knife, right?”

“Danny.” She’s frowning at him. He feels like he just kicked tiny Cujo. But he doesn’t feel bad enough to blurt everything out.

“Here. You can have it if you want?” Danny casually pulls out the knife and holds the wound together with his bare hands. Cass looks more alarmed. She bodily picks up Danny and starts running.

“Woah!”

Cass throws him at Alfred, gently.

“Miss Cassandra! Why, I never-!” Alfred pauses in surprise.

“Uh. Wow, Cass. You’re really strong.” Danny pipes up, hand still over his gushing wound.

She ignores him, pointing at Danny and telling Alfred, “Hurt. Got mugged. Dumb.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault Gothamites are ready to jump people at any moment. Besides, it’s daytime. It’s not like the vigilante furries are out to save my butt. I think I did really well coming back safe, you know?”

“Hurt. Forgot the knife. Was in him.”

“Master Danny!”

Danny pouts. He also knows there’s a discreet camera in the corners of the sitting room, so he’s definitely hoping he could phase into the cave when Barbara eventually tells the group that he called them “vigilante furries.”

Alfred clucks his tongue and set to work patching him up. Danny tries not to bask in the careful way Alfred tended to his wounds. It reminds him too much of Jazz, if Jazz was British and a man with greying hair.

But because they were watching him and he was watching them in return, Danny noticed the moment Alfred’s hands stalled and Cass’ gaze got intense. What now…?

Oh, fuck, his vivisection scar. Oops. Danny smiled, channeling Dani (his lovely clone sister) at her most innocent.

Cass smiled back, just as sunnily, fists tightening at her side in repressed fury.

——

“Cass? Why’d you call us?”

“Yeah, baby bat. I got a couple o’ smugglers to talk to.”

Cass paces.

“What is it, Cassandra?” Damian tuts impatiently.

“Danny. Has… scars. Autopsy. But was struggling. When cut.”

“What.”

“A vivisection, Master Jason.” Alfred’s voice was crisp and eerily cold. His hands are folded, rage only held back by his sheer will and a well practiced sense of propriety.

“We find. Who hurt him,” Cass snarls. “We. End.”

Jason’s eyes glint green, hands going to his guns. “Fine. By. Me.”

“It does tie in with the dead comment. I wonder what happened to him.” Tim clacks away at the bat computer, furiously looking into the matter already. Bruce has taken to prowling, stressed out at the prospect of one more of his children- not a vigilante at that- getting hurt the way Jason had. Worse, even. A vivisection. He was alive, dissected. Aware enough to struggle. Dick looked like he was torn about hunting down and lunging at whoever hurt Danny to rip their throats out with his bare teeth versus the urge to go back up to the manor and wrap Danny in bubble wrap.

In the corner, Danny was having a quiet breakdown because he came here to watch them react to vigilante furries, not offering to murder the people who vivisection him. What the fuck?? He ran his hands through his hair, invisible.

——

“Oh, by the way, we should consider more daytime shifts.”

“Why?” Spoiler asks Barbara.

“Danny got mugged. And called us the nightly furries.”

“The fuckin’ what-?” Jason chokes out, laughing. Bruce stops his pacing, body language becoming slightly offended.

Danny muffles a laugh only Alfred would have heard.

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tales-of-the-ghost-zone · 4 months

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Was scrolling through tumblr when I came across a Panda Redd skit about lawyers and judges. And one of the comments was, there’s no good judges in Gotham because they’d be killed immediately. And my mind instantly said, “but what if Danny grew up, moved to Gotham, and became a judge 🤔”

Cause like the boys already half dead, they can’t kill him. And he’s king of The Infinite Realm so he can’t be bribed! All his friends and family are either ghosts or liminal’s so they can’t hold anyone he cares about hostage to get him to do what they want! He would be the perfect judge for Gotham!!!

Plus like in the case of murders, he could talk to the ghosts of the victim’s of the crime to find out if the person on trial is really guilty of the crime. It wouldn’t really be all that admissible in court. Unless he worked to get some laws changed. Maybe he works to get it legal for the ghost of victims to be allowed to testify at the trials. Cause really who better to prove the persons guilt than the person who was killed!!!!

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #batman #danny fenton #ghost king danny #Danny becomes a judge in Gotham #he’s the best judge the city has ever had #a lot more criminals go away to actual prison

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tales-of-the-ghost-zone · 4 months

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Dan is Trigon

So! The Teen Titans had been chasing down a Cult lately, and they had finally managed to track down their main bases location.

Unfortunately, they got there just a bit too late and the Summoning Ritual they had been preforming was finished. The Being they had been calling crawled up and out of the Circle drawn in Blood on the floor.

And Raven felt her heart Stop. Because that Being crawling it's way out of the Summoning Circle looked almost exactly like her Father's True Form. But also different.

Where her Father's hair was a White Flame, this one's hair looked like Freshly Fallen Snow. Instead of her Father's Blood Red Skin, this being had Icy Blue Skin. And most strikingly, In place of her Father's Piercing Red Eyes, this being had Lazarus Green Eyes.

But even with all those changes, she could still the similarities in the Bone Structure, the shape of the Jaw, and most importantly the Untold Power radiating off of them.

Before they could react, the Being turned its attention to the Cultists.

"Who Dares Summon, the Ghost King?"

"We do, Out Lord Pariah Dark! We Beseech Thee, take this unclean world and tear it down! Cleanse the World of its Filth!"

"Oh Goddammit, not again." Said the Being, "Look, Pariah hasn't been in Power for Centuries. I, am Phantom. And I don't do the whole 'Destroy all Worlds' thing, you want your own constellation? I'm your guy. Otherwise? Bite it."

"Bu-But my Lord! We summoned you to-"

"Yeah how about no." Said the unimpressed God, "Here, let me send you guys Home. I'll give you guys some riches or something as compensation, but that's it."

And with that, the God snapped its fingers and the cultists disappeared.

"Now, who are you kids?" He turned to them.

Robin stepped forward, "We are the Teen Titans, and originally we came to stop them from Summoning you. Now, I honestly don't know what to do..."

"Oh, you guys are Heroes! That's interesting, I don't come across worlds with Heroes very often." Said the Ghost King, "The last one was the one with those Revengers or whatever they called themselves. The Spider Totem was fun to talk to, and Thor is always..."

As Phantom mumbled to himself, Raven stepped up. "King Phantom, I have a Question. Why do you resemble the true form or Trigon so closely? As his Daughter, I can recognize your similarities easily, and I was curious."

The King stopped dead.

"...daughter?"

"Oh, yes. Trigon is my father, though obviously I haven't talked to him recently." She explained.

"...that asshole." He said, "How could he not tell me I had a NIECE!?"

Wait what?

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tales-of-the-ghost-zone · 4 months

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DPXDC Prompt #128

No one was quite sure what happened, They had gone after Joker and while Batman was hesitant to allow Hood along he had gotten better about his anger and everyone else was busy with other rouges. one second Red Hood had a gun in Jokers face the next, there was a shift in Hood like he wasn’t himself anymore. Unfortunately it finally happened for Hood, his soulmate had reached 20 years of age and the two switched places. The person controlling his body now though was Danny Fenton who happens not to like clowns.

Danny was panicking and not realizing he was holding a gun pulls the trigger causing the Joker the go flying and Danny’s panic to increase 10 fold. He whips his head to get a look at his surroundings and that’s when he panics further and slowly places the gun on the ground and slowly raise his hands into the air. There in front of him was Batman and he knew he was in trouble. Still panicking he squeaked at the dark knight’s approach, “I’m sorry!! I- I guess I’m this guy’s soulmate. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone”

Jason meanwhile wasn’t fairing any better. He was pissed the clown was right in front of him and he was so close! He was in this scrawny body, his soulmate happened to be in Gotham but by the looks of it, he was in rough shape, a small fever was forming and it seemed like he had bandages wrapped around his torso. Jason doesn’t know what happened to him but he’s taking him to Alfred, he wasn’t going to let his soulmate bleed out in an alley even if he did have the worst timing.

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tales-of-the-ghost-zone · 4 months

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The Mall Grinch

Danny dislikes Christmas normally but being allowed to dress up as the Grinch in a mall in Gotham city when he got a holiday job at least made things interesting that year.

Getting to beat up a rouge as the Grinch in character was just the icing on the cake, at least he made one of the bats laugh.

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tales-of-the-ghost-zone · 4 months

Text

Help the snippet grew legs

I did more snippet. I actually did more snippet checks nearly two weeks ago now, but then things went to pot a bit and I didn't post. Because I am a living disaster.

But yeah the last DCxDP snippet I wrote has grown legs. In fact it has grown so much legs that I know where it starts as well as where it goes from the last snippet onwards for a while.

I don't know how we got from the start to here, but that's not my problem right now.

This however is not the start. This follows up directly from this post from a month ago.

Jason had been on edge since getting back to Gotham. The sort of on edge that made him want to go patrolling Crime Alley, just to make sure everything was alright. Which was ridiculous, because he’d only been gone for a week, and more importantly he was exhausted and patrolling when he was this tired was asking for trouble.

Mostly, he just wanted to go home and sleep, but he needed to head to the Cave to check on some information regarding this case, just to make sure it was closed and stayed closed, so he turned his bike to go and do that first. At the very least it would be quiet there, since it was just late enough in the night that all the Bats would be swarming out on their own patrols.

So of course Babs patched herself into his comms not two minutes after returning.

“Hood.”

“Hey, O.” He said, because he couldn’t really be mad at her for any length of time. And it wasn’t like it was her fault he was on edge right now. “What’s up?”

“Are you heading to the Cave?”

“Yeeesss...?” Jason frowned slightly, leaning forward. “Why, is something wrong?”

“No, just need to warn you, we’ve got visitors.”

Jason jerked in surprise, then swore as he regained control of his bike. He pulled to a stop so that Babs wouldn’t lambast him about it, before replying. “Visitors?”

“Red Robin made some friends while you were gone.” She told him, with an odd tone in her voice. “They’re doing something involving the Lazarus Pits.”

Jason went cold. “They’re- what?”

“The Pits.” She repeated. “They- Hood, we don’t know anything about them. But Red Robin says they’re trustworthy, and yes we checked for mind control and things. There’s nothing. But they know more about the Pits than anyone we’ve ever met.”

Jason laughed, strangled. “What, really?”

“Really. I think they might know more than Ra’s does.” Babs sounded nervous, he realised with another cold flush, and he started his bike again and pushed off.

“That’s not suspicious at all.”

“No, it isn’t.” Babs sighed. “But Red trusts them, for some reason, enough to bring them to the Cave for whatever project they’re working on. The others are there too, he’s not alone, and we’re keeping an eye on things, but…”

“Yeah.” Jason knew. They were Bats, paranoia was in their nature. The fact that none of the Bats that had come into contact with these unknowns seemed bothered at all was… intensely concerning. “You want me to take a look or avoid it?”

“...You can come by, if you want. I’m watching remotely in case we need a League alert or something, but…”

“I hear you.” He sighed. “Who’re we dealing with?”

“They all look to be about mid-twenties. The main guy calls himself Phantom. The other two defer to him on just about everything, so he’s definitely the boss. No real description, he’s not human and only sometimes has a human shape. Fairly middling height and frail-looking when they do, white hair and glowing green eyes. Most the time he’s wearing a sort of hazmat suit of some kind, but that shifts sometimes. When he’s not human it’s pretty much impossible to describe him, but I guess the best way to put it is that he looks like space.” Babs immediately filled in.

“The other two seem to be some kind of subordinates. The man goes by Duulaman, he seems to be a mix of tech guy and magic. Phantom also seems to know his way around technology pretty well, hardware while Duulaman does software. His magic is Egyptian themed for the most part, and seems linked to his technological ability otherwise. Fairly tall, dark skin and blue eyes with a green shimmer, black hair. He wears glasses but I’m not convinced that they’re actually necessary rather than being some kind of device for either his magic or technology. Also, we can’t hack him.”

“What, at all?”

“Admittedly I’ve not tried too hard, I don’t want to make them hostile if they’re not going to be, but I think he uses his magic to amplify what his technology does. Just what little I’ve seen is incredible.”

“Huh.” Also concerning, but in a different way. Though if Babs wasn’t trying too hard then it might just be that Duulaman’s tech seemed harder to deal with than it is. “And the third?”

“A woman, Caucasian with black hair and mostly violet eyes. Little bit of a green shine there, too. She’s the tallest of the lot of them, pretty thin but not as frail-looking as Phantom. Not sure of much more about her, she doesn’t seem to have the same sort of technological abilities as the other two and she’s mostly been standing to the side like a guard or acting as an extra pair of hands whenever either of the males need something. Name seems to be Belladonna, but both males have been giving her a few different plant-related nicknames, so I’m not certain which one’s real.”

“Great.” He sighed again. “Don’t suppose there’s any way to get an idea of that?”

“Not likely. Other possible names are Nightshade, Overgrowth, Foxglove, Yew, and Daffodil.”

“Daffodil?” That didn’t quite fit the theme, though the fact that the woman had a theme of poisonous plants was concerning. Then again, neither did Overgrowth.

“Daffodils are poisonous, apparently.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

Babs went quiet for a while after that, letting Jason drive, and only spoke up again when he reached the entrance to the Cave.

“Be careful, Hood.”

“Always am, O.” He replied, slightly nervous despite himself. A part of him wanted to just run back to Crime Alley and go to bed, not deal with whatever disaster Tim had apparently brought into the family trying to study fucking Lazarus Pits, somehow. He just… didn’t want to deal with this.

But he had to, because if there was any chance the other Bats were under some kind of subtle mind control, they needed someone outside to go and take a look, and with Jason knowing about it ahead of time, there’d at least be a chance for Babs to call in the League if she saw a change.

The Cave was surprisingly quiet when he entered, though in a way Jason wasn’t surprised. The place was practically made to amplify certain sounds, and his bike roaring in was definitely one of them. Plus there was the fact that there were three unknowns in the Cave, so no-one was going to be talking about anything private or secret. Still, it was disconcerting to enter the Cave when it was so quiet, with none of the others calling out a greeting and no sounds of sparring on the mats. It just felt wrong, and Jason felt a chill run down his spine even as he stopped his bike and headed further in.

The chill only got worse when he saw the group. Most of the Bats were just hovering around the Cave, doing nothing in particular and obviously only there to keep an eye on the unknowns. Red Robin was the only one over by the workbench that had obviously been hurriedly pulled together from about four other smaller workbenches, leaning over it with his back to Hood. One of the strangers was with him, and Hood could suddenly understand why Oracle had said Phantom was difficult to describe. For the most part, he definitely looked like Oracle had said, a black hazmat-like outfit and white hair. Given the way he was leaning over the table next to Red Robin, it was hard to see much of him, but he did look fairly frail.

Except when Hood blinked, the man suddenly looked… well. Not human. At all. He could see what she meant by looking like space, because he just… cracked. Like a swirling void full of stars.

Then Hood blinked again, and he was back to normal, and all three strangers were straightening. The woman, maybe-Belladonna, looked up first from where she was hovering- not literally, unlike Phantom, who Hood now realised was literally floating at Red Robin’s side- behind Duulaman, met Hood’s eyes despite the helmet, and paled sharply. Duulaman looked up next, and both their eyes flashed a bright green- a toxic green, one only a few shades off being very familiar- before both swore sharply.

That was when Phantom turned around.

Hood froze. Not just from the sudden chill, fear biting down his spine in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time, but from the look. Something about Phantom seemed familiar, in a dangerous way. Floating slightly in the air, white hair waving like it was caught in an invisible breeze, and eyes shining a just as brilliant green as the other two but solid rather than mixed into their apparently-original colours. The being- because he wasn’t a human, no matter what he looked like most of the time and no matter what the other Bats thought, that wasn’t a meta or even an alien, he was something else- stared at him, a hazy mist of breath clouding in front of him, eyes wide.

There was a crackle of something like electricity and machinery starting, and Phantom disappeared. Hood suddenly felt like he could breathe again.

“Oh Ancients.” Duulaman murmured, looking pale. He was still staring at Hood, as was Belladonna, both of them looking horrified.

“Phantom?” Belladonna called, eyes darting upwards for a moment before returning to stare at Hood.

Slightly uncomfortable with the attention now, Hood looked up.

The Cave roof had been replaced with a starry sky. Based on… everything else about this situation, that was probably Phantom.

The electrical sound came again, somehow sounding apologetic and Hood had no idea how a noise like that could sound like that, and Duulaman sighed. “English, Phantom. Or at least something living, please.”

“Sorry.” The mass of space on the roof said, with an undertone of electricity and ice. “Just… Ancients.”

Belladonna laughed, a small, horrified sound. “You’ve got that right.”

“What happened to you?” Duulaman asked, and out of the corner of his eye Hood saw the rest of the Bats stiffen.

His focus was on the mass on the roof, though, which slowly crept down- like some demented dripping tap of space, Hood thought hysterically- to settle between Duulaman and Belladonna in a mind-twistingly strange blob.

The shape shimmered, and Phantom’s human form appeared, the space-blob folding away like it had never been there. He looked at Hood again, then winced and deliberately turned his head to focus on Duulaman as he leaned into his side. Light flickered again, and then-

Phantom shifted.

White hair swapped to black, the strange hazmat suit disappeared in favour of jeans and a long sleeved shirt- which looked immensely out of place compared to his… partners? Underlings? Outfits; Belladonna had a dramatic black dress lined with vines and pale flowers, and Duulaman leaned into the Egyptian theme with an outfit like a pharaoh. Compared to them, Phantom looked incredibly normal. Like a regular guy in his mid-twenties.

He looked over at Hood again, eyes now blue with only a faint green shine, and Hood shivered. No matter that he looked normal, something about the being still screamed unnatural.

“Phantom?” Both his partners asked, sounding surprised.

“Sorry.” He said, in a raspy voice. “It’s- easier, this way. Kidnapping isn’t exactly a good idea right now.”

“Kidnapping?!” Several of the Bats chorused, and Hood saw Batman stiffen ready to lunge.

Hood just couldn’t stop staring.

He was aware, faintly, of the conversation going on around him. More than aware, really; he was a Bat by training, he didn’t just… tune out of important conversations. Everything that was being said was being catalogued for later, held in the back of his head for evaluation once he had time. But at the same time, it was just… difficult. As much as he was aware of the conversation, he wasn’t really listening. A part of him just… couldn’t stop watching the three. Even as Phantom very deliberately looked away from Jason, almost like he couldn’t bare to look at him. As Duulaman put his hand on Phantom’s shoulder and Belladonna leaned into his side like they were anchoring him, while neither of them looked his way for more than brief glances that every time warped their faces into grimaces.

He was fully aware that the other Bats were interrogating the three. Something they really should have done long before this, before they brought them to the Cave because they were doing something with Lazarus Pits and knew too much about them. And he was well aware that none of them were making getting the information difficult. They talked easily, like none of it was a secret- and maybe it wasn’t. These Infinite Realms, these ghosts, everything about the Ancients and the halfas that Phantom apparently was, maybe none of it was a secret. Or maybe it was just that none of them cared, because-

Phantom looked him in the eyes for the first time since the start of this whole thing.

“Pariah Dark was a monster, and even he would consider what was done to you unforgivable.”

Jason jolted, pulling away from that horrible chill and the feeling that there was something incredible in front of him- something horrifying, something nightmarish and awful. And he listened, really listened, as Phantom laid out as best as he could what it felt like to look at him. It felt like drowning, almost, and somewhere in the back of his mind past the crystal haze of shock it felt like he was screaming. Jason just listened and stared as the three of them laid out how things felt to them- how he felt to them, and wasn’t that just hilarious, that there was something so deeply wrong with him that even these strange beings, these half-dead and partly dead people, were able to look at him and know immediately that something is wrong here.

He wondered a little if it was like the uncanny valley. If looking at him made these people, who were apparently ghosts or at least close to it, unnerved because there was something wrong here, something not quite correct for what it should be.

Of course he would be fucked up. He was already well aware that the Pit had done terrible things to him. What was one more?

Phantom glanced at him only once more, then focused on Batman.

“So,” he said, in a firm voice obviously used to being obeyed. “I’d quite like to know who did that to him. Because my next step is going to be to call the council, get war declared on them, and then erase them.”

Neither Belladonna or Duulaman objected. In fact they seemed like they agreed, or possibly they just didn’t intend to contradict the person that was their leader.

Jason wasn’t sure. He was still too busy being shocked, lost in a hazy daze of… something. He couldn’t have spoken even if he wanted too, and all he could do was stare at Bruce as well, waiting to see what was next.

Batman didn’t speak.

He wasn’t sure he was surprised.

The silence stretched, reaching a minute, two. Phantom continued to stare at Batman, who stared back, a firm line in what Jason could see of his mouth. No-one else moved.

Jason took a shuddering breath, and a step back. It was more of a stumble, really, and it broke the holding pattern the rest of the room was in. Eyes snapped to him.

The three- ghosts? Realms beings? Whatever they were- looked directly at him with only a slight wince. Phantom tensed slightly, like he wanted to spring, and both Duulaman and Belladonna did the same in response, hands grasping at their leader as if to keep him in place.

Jason took another trembling breath, and bolted.

Someone- Dick, he thought, but he couldn’t quite tell over the shuddering sounds of his own breaths and heartbeats- shouted after him, but Jason didn’t stop. He just ran, going straight for his bike and leaving.

The chill lingered in the back of his chest the entire time. Jason couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so cold.

He hadn’t even realised he’d been warm, until he saw Phantom. Now there was just the chill, slowly seeping into his bones. He wasn’t even sure that was Phantom’s fault, though.

After all, Bruce had been silent.

Why would Dad tell them who hurt him? It wasn’t like Jason was his son, or anything. It wasn’t like it was only the League, like it was only the Joker, like it wouldn’t deal with so many of their problems without them needing to do anything.

He somehow wasn’t surprised.

So Jason ran.

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tales-of-the-ghost-zone · 4 months

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Danny and Sam were enjoying a date out in Metropolis when it happened. Superman had been mind controlled again, and was taking hostages. Neither Danny or Sam were worried, and were amongst the only people not running for their lives. They just sat outside the cafe, sipping their coffee and eating their food. As the ground began to rumble, they simply picked their coffee cups and held them in their hands to not spill the coffee within.

“So then Tucker says, ‘not my pda!’” Danny finishes, laughing along with Sam.

“I swear, he loves that thing more than life!” Sam laughs.

That’s when they heard it. The sunlight outside got a shade darker, and Sam and Danny turned to see the outline of Superman hovering in front of them. They both glanced at him, then at each other.

With a loud sigh, Danny out down his coffee. “Can you move a little to the left, Superman? You’re blocking the sunlight.”

Without warning, Superman reached out and grabbed Sam, who was closer to him. Sam grunted out in surprise as she was lifted into the air by her neck. Danny looked unconcerned.

“Seriously?” Sam asked, gesturing at Superman. “You’re going to ruin my necklace.”

“I don’t think he’s worried about your necklace, babe.” Danny leaned against the table, watching the encounter.

“Well, he should be!” Sam exclaimed. “I paid good money for it!”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible. We can just buy you another one once he stops choking you.”

“It’s not really like he’s going to get anywhere.” Sam agreed.

Superman seemed to take offense to this. His grip on her neck tightened, and while Sam’s face did flush red, she wasn’t gasping for breath or having her neck snapped.

“You remember the other day when I said Black Canary could strangle me and I’d be happy about it?” Sam asked, her voice a little breathless.

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow, wondering where she as going with this.

“I like Superman choking me better. He would probably be better at it than a human.” Sam grinned at the Kryptonian.

“Shouldn’t he at least buy you dinner first?” He asked.

“You know, most boyfriends don’t talk so freely about their girlfriends being choked by other guys.” Sam pointed out.

“You’re right.” He agreed.

“But this is getting kinda weird. Superman, do you mind letting me go? This isn’t really working for me anymore.” Sam pointed to the ground.

A large crowd had started to gather around them. Some looked horrified, while others looked curious. Curious at Sam, who hadn’t died yet. Superman made no moves to remove his hand from her neck.

“Hey babe?” Sam asked.

“Yeah?” He took another sip of his coffee, completely calm.

“Can you record me beating up Superman so we can send it to your sister?”

“Why her?” He tilted his head.

“Little sister.” Sam clarified.

“Ohh. Yeah, sure, she’d love that.” He took a second and pulled his phone out—a latest WayneTech model. “Go for it.”

Sam wrapped her hand around Superman’s, and with an audible snap, broke his hand and pulled it off of her neck. Superman gasped in pain, but Sam wasn’t done yet. She proceeded to judo flip him and send him crashing to the Earth while she continued to hover in the air. She clapped her hands together and cracked her knuckles.

“This is going to be fun.” Sam grinned wickedly.

“You know, I could just touch his temple and cure him of the mind control.” He offered, but continued to record Sam.

“Don’t spoil my fun.” Sam flipped him off, then dove towards the ground. She kicked Superman in the nuts, then kneed him in the face hard enough to draw blood. She punched him a few more times until he fell unconscious.

Danny got up and stopped the recording. He walked over to his girlfriend and looked at the unconscious Superman. He bent over the man and pressed a finger to the man’s temple. Blue power briefly illuminated Superman’s skin, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“You’re going to cause trouble for us.” He chastised her.

“But you love it.” Sam took his hand. “Let’s go home.”

She flew into the air first, but Danny took another second to dig into his wallet, leaving a $20 bill on the table they were sitting at. He then flew into the air after Sam, chasing her all the way to Amity Park.

—————

Six months later, and Danny and Sam were on another outing in Gotham when they were interrupted by Batman. They pulled a chair up for him, and eventually the man took it. They ordered him a coffee and a bagel.

“So, what brings you here?” Danny asked casually.

“How did you defeat Superman?” Batman asked, straight to the point.

“Huh?” Sam asked. “When did we do that?”

“Six months ago.” Batman responded.

“Ohh, wait— remember the day we went to Metropolis?” He hummed.

“Oh. I already forgot about that. Superman’s not pressing charges, is he?” Sam asked. “I do have a good lawyer, he’s just an asshole to deal with.”

“No, he is not pressing charges.” Batman grunted.

“Then what’s this about?” He asked, tilting his head.

Without answering, Batman opened a box on his lap. At once, the kryptonite took effect of both Sam and Danny, making their skin turn green and to writhe in pain. Just as Danny was about to take the box from Batman by force, the man had closed the lid and tucked it away.

“I had my suspicions.” Batman said, as if that explained everything. “So how did two more Kryptonians land on Earth when the planet was destroyed thirty years ago?”

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tales-of-the-ghost-zone · 4 months

Text

WHOO HOO ECTO-IMPLOSION!! I was honored to get to step in to write for the incredible artwork done by @praetoring! They're such a talented artist, and their art was truly inspiring!! I'll be reblogging it myself, but definitely go check it out here and share the love with them!! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This would be so much easier if you opened up, Daniel.”

Danny huffs and scrapes the heel of his scruffy shoe on the thin carpet. “It’s Danny. And I told you before. There’s nothing to open up about.”

Dr. Bell leans forward and laces his fingers underneath his chin. Danny’s seen the critical glint in his eye before, in the other psychiatrists who have come before him. He wonders if it’s something they teach in medical school. Maybe they make it a graduation requirement.

“I’m here to help you. We all are,” Dr. Bell says, his honey brown eyes trained on Danny. “You’re here because you have people who care about you. They want to see you get better.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint, but there’s nothing to get better from.”

Dr. Bell’s eyes crease into a sad sort of smile. “There’s a term for that, you know. When a patient believes their problems aren’t a problem. ‘Ego-syntonic’ is what we call it.”

“Why would I care what it’s called?”

“Thought you might like to know.” The doctor shrugs. “You seem like the inquisitive type.”

A silence befalls the two, broken only by the gentle ticking of the antique cuckoo clock on the wall. Danny scrapes his heel on the ground again.

He doesn’t like the quiet. It leaves room for too much to sneak through. Too many chances for something to slip through the cracks.

But he doesn’t speak.

It’s a lose-lose situation, really. He can stay quiet and run that risk, or he can talk and have to deal with all this. Again.

He shuffles and crosses his arms.

Dr. Bell sighs. “You do know why you’re here right now, yes?”

Danny doesn’t answer at first. His gaze is focused out the window now, at a point on the horizon. The sun is glaring down, melting the slushy snow and causing the air to shimmer. It’s a mesmerizing sight, he decides.

“Daniel. Danny. Look at me.”

Danny grits his teeth, but obeys. Still, his eyes continue to drift back outside.

There’s another look in Dr. Bell’s eyes. One that Danny also knows well. The same reproachful, pitying look given to him by the students in the halls at school, the cashiers at the grocery store, the dozens of professionals he’s been forced to talk to. The same look accompanied by low whispers and unrelenting rumors.

Danny knows he should be used to them by now, but he still can’t help but lash out at them. Every time. Even if it’s in his own head.

Dr. Bell tilts his head thoughtfully. “Why did you throw those meds away, Danny?”

Danny bristles. He can still hear the flushing toilet and his sister’s shouts of disbelief. The angry lecture from his parents. It’s not pretty.

Somehow, he’d never thought about the consequences of getting caught.

“Maybe if you listened to me,” he snaps, “you’d understand that they’re useless.”

“If we need to adjust the dosage, or if we need to try anoth-”

“No, just - I don’t need them!” His heart is beginning to race. He’s getting himself worked up again, and he knows it can only lead to disaster, but he can’t really help it. “I don’t need them, because nothing’s wrong!”

Dr. Bell’s brow furrows. “How long have you been tossing them?”

“Does it matter? I don’t need them, end of story.”

“Danny.” His name is spoken with a sort of sternness really only matched by his English teacher. It’s enough to make him shut his mouth and slowly sit back in his seat. Had he even realized he’d started to lean forward?

His heart doesn’t quiet, though. It pounds away in his chest, faster and faster. Something tingles in the back of his head.

He scrapes his heel again.

The doctor finally looks away and pinches the bridge of his nose. It pushes his glasses askew. “This is serious. You can’t simply decide to stop taking these meds because you think you don’t need them. That’s dangerous… to you.”

Danny doesn’t need to be a genius to hear the unspoken message in Dr. Bell’s words. Dangerous to you and the people around you.

Jazz would scold him for jumping to that conclusion. He can imagine just what she’d say. People with psychotic disorders are more likely to be the victims of violence than the perpetrators of it, she’d say in that presumptuous, know-it-all voice she dons any time she gets to talking about psychology.

Danny knows better though. Statistics might say one thing. They don’t change what people think, though.

Another shimmer outside the window catches his eye. He hones in on it immediately.

This one is different. He knows it. He can feel it.

Shit.

Dr. Bell is still speaking. “Please, Danny. You don’t want to end up back in the hospital again. You’ve been managing your symptoms for a while now. You don’t want to throw that all away.”

But Danny isn’t hearing him. Not even the thinly veiled threat of the hospital breaks his concentration.

(Somewhere in the back of his mind, though, he wonders if psychiatrists are supposed to be this blunt. All of the others before this one always danced around the issue so delicately.)

(He sort of appreciates the bluntness, for once. It’s a refreshing change.)

No, his focus is devoted to that point on the horizon, where the shimmer is waving precariously in the air, taking on a new shape and growing stronger.

Really, he wishes it had waited until this appointment was over.

Then again, he’s really the one to blame for it, isn’t he?

“We can only do so much. Myself, your parents, your teachers… I know it’s difficult, and I know you’ve been through a lot, but we can’t do all the work for you. You have to be willing to step up and take care of yourself.”

Danny’s heart is throbbing painfully now. He can feel the potent hum of something buzzing just under his skin, making his leg bounce and his fingers dig into his torn jeans. His eyes remain stubbornly trained out the window.

But this time he’s heard Dr. Bell’s words. Specifically that last bit. And he has some words of his own.

It’s perfect timing, thankfully.

He stands up abruptly, so forcefully it knocks over his chair. “Thanks, but no thanks, doc. You may think I’m just throwing away my life or whatever, but I know myself better than you do. And for the record, I am taking care of myself. I’m taking care of more than myself, actually. So - and I’ll only say this once - kindly go to hell.”

Before Dr. Bell has the chance to respond, Danny sweeps out of the office.

No one sees him exit the building.

____________________________________________________________

One year, seven months, twenty-one days, and forty-six minutes.

That’s how long it’s been since the first crack.

It shouldn’t have been possible. His parents said so themselves. With the portal destroyed, the veil between worlds was never torn. Reality remained intact, thus preventing any leakage.

That’s what they thought anyway.

But Danny knows the truth. He’s the only one that does.

He was there when it happened, after all.

____________________________________________________________

The next morning has Jazz hovering over his shoulder, watching him like a hawk.

“Go on,” she says, nodding to the pills in his open hand. “Take them.”

Danny doesn’t answer. Instead, he stares at the pills with disdain. Mom had been sure to make certain that he’d have them for this morning. Pharmacies work much faster with an impassioned Fenton breathing down their necks.

Either that, or maybe they’ve heard the rumors about him too.

Jazz huffs and throws her hands in the air. “Honestly, Danny, I don’t understand what the big deal is. They’re not gonna kill you.”

Danny tilts his head. He could probably make a decent argument as to why yes, taking these pills could end up with him dead, but he holds his tongue.

He can feel his heart begin to pulse a little faster. His focus immediately redirects to his breathing.

Inhale Io Europa Ganymede.

Exhale Callisto Amalthea Himalia.

Inhale Elara Pasiphae Sinope.

Exhale Lysithea Carme Ananke.

Jupiter has 95 moons. Danny knows all their names by heart. It became especially easy to memorize them when he discovered they make for a wonderful mantra to time his breathing to.

And Jazz wanted to accuse him of not paying attention in therapy.

Except she’s still staring at him with murder in her eyes. “You’re not going anywhere until you take those. And no, I will not vouch for you with Lancer if you make us late.”

His eyes flick up to hers for the briefest of moments. He doesn’t maintain the eye contact - it’s too hard to look at the disappointment in her eyes - but it’s long enough for him to spot something else within them. He can’t quite believe it, though.

Is that… helplessness?

Conflicting feelings war within him. On one hand, he wants to snap at her, tell her to mind her own business and quit worrying about him. She’s been on his back for the better part of the past year and a half. How has she not learned that no amount of nagging is going to “fix” him?

But on the other hand, his heart pangs for his sister. After all, she’s been dealing with the effects of his… condition for that year and a half now, whether she’s wanted to or not. He knows his problems are not self-contained; they inevitably twist their way into the lives of everyone he comes into contact with. No one has been in closer contact with him than Jazz.

In a way, he sort of hates himself for it. Or maybe he hates the universe for putting him into this position. Either way, he hates it.

Yet he still can’t take the pills. He doesn’t know what sort of effect they’ll have on him, but he’s not eager to find out, either.

Danny sighs and his shoulders slump. “Fine,” he says, his voice clipped. “Whatever.”

He makes a show of tossing them in his mouth and taking a big gulp of water. Even after he swallows, Jazz still eyes him critically.

“Open up,” she demands, though her voice is gentler. Obediently, he opens and lifts his tongue to show her his empty mouth.

She nods curtly, but Danny can see the tension drain from her face and body. The sight is somewhat strangely satisfying. “Thank you. Now was that so bad?”

Danny shakes his head.

“That’s what I thought. Now come on, I really don’t want to be late.”

“You go ahead,” he says. “Sam and Tucker wanted to walk with me today.”

Jazz raises an eyebrow. The gears are turning in her head, Danny knows, as she tries to pick the reason apart. Looks for a flaw.

A year and a half of lying through his teeth has earned him such a lack of trust.

But he shrugs half-heartedly. He’s already taken the pills, hasn’t he?

Jazz seems to reach this conclusion. “Alright,” she says slowly. She bends down to pick up her bag, but her eyes stay glued to him. “But if you try anything funny…”

“What would I even try?”

“Just -” she cuts herself off and draws in a breath. “I’m not trying to be the bad guy, Danny. I just… I worry. You’re my little brother, you know?”

His heart pangs again. “I know.”

The hint of a smile graces the corners of her lips. She plants a kiss into his hair. There’s a weight to it though, one that holds the strain of all the heated arguments, all the angry and despaired tears, all the failed pleading and promising, everything that’s happened in the past year and a half.

Even if her melancholy hadn’t draped itself around his shoulders, he would’ve known.

Still, when she pulls away, he offers her his own small smile. She leaves the house without another word.

It’s only after he hears the door close behind her that he bolts to the bathroom.

____________________________________________________________

He had tried to explain what was happening to him, after the portal exploded on him. He tried to explain the strange feelings in his body, the impossible things he was seeing.

The doctors (and his sister) immediately wrote off his complaints as residual trauma from the accident. You’re lucky to even be alive, they would tell him. It’s expected that you’d be having problems adjusting.

(Lucky to be alive. That’s what they said. That’s what everyone said.)

(If only he believed that statement was true.)

(And not about the “lucky” part.)

His parents, of course, had been intrigued at first. Perhaps it was because of some delirious hope after the destruction of their magnum opus, but they at least listened to him. There had been some skepticism, especially as it became clearer and clearer that there was no proof to Danny’s claims, but they stayed patient.

Until Jazz found out about the questions they were asking him. She had given them a lecture of her own for “encouraging his delusions” before “accidentally” dropping it to the therapist during a family counseling session.

His parents, disappointed as they had been, agreed to back off.

Leaving him alone to fix a problem no one believed was real.

____________________________________________________________

Danny’s head feels like dead weight as he lifts it from the toilet. He flushes it before he can look down and make himself sick all over again.

God, what has he come to?

The bitter taste of the half-digested pills burns at his tongue. Still, he chooses to fall back against the wall, breathing heavily and letting his eyes flutter closed.

His heart pounds in his chest. It had started even as he had been running to the bathroom. He silently berates himself for allowing it to happen. And although part of him has already resigned himself to the inevitable consequence, part of him still desperately latches onto the list of moons he knows so well.

Leda Thebe Adrastea.

Something potent and volatile pulses in the air. He can feel it seep through his skin and into his muscles and bones. It only makes his heart race faster, especially as the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and goosebumps coat his arms.

He’s had a year and a half to get used to the sensation, but it catches him off guard every time. Like something is tearing itself apart inside him.

Or maybe like he’s being torn apart.

Metis, Themisto…

Danny curls in on himself. Pressure builds in his chest. Something he has no human words for storms inside him in a relentless whirlwind. He can feel the need for release, though whether that’s him begging for a reprieve or the force inside him demanding to be freed, he can never tell. Perhaps it’s both.

… Callirrhoe…

The sizzling snaps of something electric are audible in the air, concentrated somewhere behind the shower curtain. He holds his head in a death grip and his heart beats fast - impossibly fast.

So fast it might as well be stopped.

Something cold writhes its way into his throat, stirring his stomach into nausea all over again. He can’t swallow it down. He’s forced to open his mouth in a gasp and stare in dismay as pale, blue mist pours from his lips.

But he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. The demand from the force within has become intolerable. Like always, he’s left wondering if it’ll be too much for his tiny mortal body to handle.

Unfortunately for him, he knows he’ll be able to handle it.

With a guttural cry, the energy erupts in him.

He’s never sure what exactly happens next. He’s always been too overwhelmed by whatever it is to see or understand. All he knows is the thunderbolt of something electric, something powerful being unleashed into him. Or maybe it’s clawing its way out of him.

Memories of blinding green light and an explosion that leaves his ears ringing rip through him.

That’s probably always the worst part.

And then, right as he’s sure he’ll disintegrate into nothing more than dust, it stops. In a single deafening clap, it stops.

Slowly, Danny peels his eyes open. The death grip loosens and his legs and arms begin to unfold. The tension, however, does not leave his body. Every human instinct of his whispers at him furiously to stay alert. Be prepared. Flee from the danger.

But a different set of instincts has clamored its way forward too. Instincts that are far from human. Instincts that draw him up from the floor and towards the bathtub.

A toxic green glow pulses behind the shower curtain.

____________________________________________________________ It hadn’t taken long for the rumors to start spreading. Amity Park is, after all, a sleepy little suburb. Its residents will take their drama where they can get it.

Did you hear about the ghost hunters’ son? they’d whisper. Did you hear about the crazy Fenton kid?

Speculations ranged far and wide. Even after the portal’s explosion became common knowledge, people would throw out wild theory after wild theory.

I heard he ate a bunch of ectoplasm and it’s poisoned him.

Well, I heard the radiation from all those experiments finally got to him.

Are you kidding? Those loony Fentons obviously started experimenting on him.

Comments like that last one always stung the worst.

If he’d been a social pariah before, he was even more of one after the accident.

And it definitely didn’t help that the accident left him with a slew of… “side effects.” Ones that really got everyone talking.

____________________________________________________________

Danny nearly tears the curtain off the rod as he rips it to the side.

Sure enough, right in the middle of the bathtub, a rancid green crack shimmers in the air.

“Go away,” he growls. There’s something ethereal about his voice now, something that makes it reverberate against the walls and fill the air with static. Something fueled by the anger and frustration in his bones.

Something - or someone - is trying to press their way through the crack. Even if it hadn’t been visibly apparent, Danny can feel it in his chest. It’s causing a distinct pressure that throbs out of sync with his heart. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least.

A different kind of static drifts through the portal. That would be the response, Danny gathers. Somehow, despite the lack of any English words - or any words, period - he knows exactly what’s being said. Or a rough idea, at least.

“No,” he snaps. A crack of electricity snaps in time with his voice. “You’re not coming through. Go away.”

He wishes the intruder would just leave him alone. The sooner he’s able to calm down, the sooner the crack will fade. That’s how it works. That’s how it’s always worked.

This time, when static drifts through the portal, there are the low undertones of something that can maybe be interpreted as language. Danny listens closely.

“This is my world.” He’s attempting to make himself sound as threatening as possible, allowing the anger and the fierce instinct to possess to bubble over into his demeanor. His blood is running cold, and he knows if he were to look in the mirror right now, he’d be met with not his eyes, but an otherworldly glow that mimics the color of the crack down to a tee. “This is my haunt. You’re not welcome.”

He’s still not exactly sure what a haunt is, and he’s not sure why the thought of this being his haunt makes his stomach flutter with both anxiety and excitement, but he’s dealt with this problem long enough to know how to speak their language.

“Let me through,” a voice hisses from inside the crack, muddied by the accompanying static. “I only wish to help you.”

Danny scoffs. “Yeah, right. Like any of you have ever actually wanted to help me before.” His eyes narrow, and now he can feel a cold crackle gathering behind them. “So you’d better leave now, because you won’t like it if I have to make you.”

“And just how do you intend to ‘make’ me leave, halfling?”

There’s that word again. The one that sends a buzz straight down Danny’s spine and causes something in his chest to leap. The one they’ve all been calling him for the past year and a half.

Halfling.

What exactly that means, he still doesn’t know.

“I’ve gotten rid of plenty of you before,” he says, low and dangerous. “I can just as easily get rid of you.”

The pressure in his chest increases sharply as a shadowy figure presses right up against the crack. Foggy bits of the figure begin to slip through the crack. “Perhaps you are as powerful as they say.” The voice becomes clearer. “Perhaps your words have merit. Somehow, I doubt that.”

Danny growls again, and his hands ball into fists. He swings madly at the little tendrils of fog. They dissipate under his touch, and the intruder hisses.

“You are making a grave mistake, child. It is not wise to reject my aid.”

“Sure. I’m sure your ‘aid’ involves all sorts of terrorizing and wreaking havoc and stuff. Exactly the kind of help I need.” He grunts as the intruder attempts to shove their way through again, and it feels like someone has thrown a cinderblock into his chest. Still, he stands his ground. “This place is mine, and if you think I’m just gonna let you come in and run rampant, then you have another thing coming.”

Despite his best efforts, more and more foggy bits leak through the crack. The static in the air pulses, and he gets the vague notion that he’s being laughed at. “Such strong words from such an insolent boy. This is the great halfling child I was told so much about?”

“You know, you’re not exactly doing much to help your case.”

“Hmm. Then maybe I’ll simply make you my offer.”

“Not. Interested.” His hands are tingling. Is it from coming into contact with the intruder? Or from something else? He can’t tell. “You can take your offer and -”

“I can teach you how to seal the rifts.”

Now that makes Danny falter.

____________________________________________________________

It only took about a month for Danny to realize it was him that was responsible for the cracks.

They didn’t start out as anything big. Barely shimmers or disturbances in the air, when he’d get worked up or nervous or upset. Nothing big enough for anything to fit through, of course.

But enough to get him to notice.

In retrospect, it did make some sense. His parents’ portal had opened up on top of him. Or maybe even opened up in him. Of course, it was bound to leave some lasting metaphysical effects.

He just hadn’t expected to learn that he was the portal’s replacement.

It was sometime right then, a month or so after the accident, that Sam had campaigned and succeeded to revise the school lunch menu. The resulting argument between her and Tucker had gotten him so anxious that it resulted in his largest crack yet. One that was big enough to allow something through.

One that was big enough to allow one of the ghosts on the other side to slip through.

____________________________________________________________

The thought is tantalizing. It’s been so long, relying on his ability to rein in his anger and anxiety to force the cracks to fade. It’s a task much easier said than done.

Wouldn’t it be nice to have an easier, more reliable way of closing them? Of keeping the ghosts out of his territory? Of stopping things before they could cause too many problems?

The intruder must sense his hesitation, because they give another forceful push. Danny, wrapped up in his own thoughts, is caught off guard by the move, and he gasps in shock as he squeezes his eyes shut and reels backwards.

It’s enough of an opening for the ghost to slide the rest of the way through.

Danny can feel its presence. There’s something… musty about it. Like the way it feels when he goes into the attic and sees all of his and Jazz’s old baby stuff packed away. Or when he’s forced to use one of the particularly “well-loved” copies of textbooks at school. He’s not sure whether to be put off by it or intrigued.

But it does feel foreign. More foreign than the presence of most other ghosts he’s encountered.

He opens his eyes.

Endless red eyes bore into his.

He reels again.

“Who the hell are you?” he hisses. Static crackles under his voice again.

The figure simply floats there, mostly hidden underneath a cloak. Those awful red eyes shine like beacons from the shadows created by the hood. Oddly enough, they make it harder to see the figure’s face. If they actually have one. Danny’s seen more than one faceless ghost before.

“Believe it or not, I do truly wish to help you,” the ghost says. Its voice is smooth and masculine, and when it speaks, Danny is flooded with a wave of that same musty energy. Something about it feels old. Timeless.

It’s not reassuring in the slightest.

The words themselves are not reassuring either. Faces supplant the shadow under the hood - his parents’, Dr. Bell’s, Jazz’s. The phrase is one that Danny is intimately familiar with, and he immediately bristles.

“I don’t need your help,” he says, folding his arms across his chest. “And I still don’t believe you actually want to help.”

Danny can’t see the figure’s face, of course, but somehow, he can tell that the ghost is smiling at him. The kind of smile adults give children who don’t know any better. “And why don’t you believe that?” the ghost asks, unperturbed by his petulance.

Danny throws his arms in the air before crossing them even tighter across his chest. “Because that’s all you ghosts do! You invade my home and start trying to stir up trouble, and then I have to chase you down and shove you back through before you hurt something. Or someone.”

“Such hasty conclusions to draw.” The ghost clucks its tongue disapprovingly. “That won’t do at all.”

Danny’s blood boils cold and the glow from his eyes is bright enough to reflect on the ghost in front of him. He raises his fists. “Go. Now.”

The ghost sighs, as if it’s bored of the conversation already. A hand thrusts out from underneath the cloak, aimed toward the crack. Danny’s eyes widen as a blue glow surrounds the ghost’s hand, then the crack. The crack shudders.

And it begins to mend itself.

Something inside Danny shifts as the crack seals itself. He feels like he can breathe a little easier, like his heart isn’t being pushed against as much.

But the ghost is still there, in his bathroom. And now that the crack is gone, the full force of the ghost’s presence is surrounding Danny.

Danny sees the glint of sharp teeth as the ghost grins. “I don’t think I will go,” it says.

Danny’s not sure whether to be amazed, terrified, or infuriated. Or maybe some combination of the three. On one hand, this ghost just proved its ability to seal the cracks. Maybe even the ability to teach him how to do it himself. If Danny possesses that ability.

On the other hand, though, Danny doesn’t take too kindly to ghosts intruding in his world and asserting themselves.

He’s the boss here.

That instinct, the instinct to own and possess and keep his territory, wins out easily. It’s too overwhelming, and Danny doesn’t really have the energy to try and fight it.

Besides, he figures, if he can get himself worked up enough, he can create another crack to shove this ghost back through.

So with a roar of anger, Danny lunges at the ghosts and swings his fists with all his might.

The moment he comes into contact with the ghost, something changes.

And green fire explodes to life around his hands.

____________________________________________________________

The cracks weren’t the only side effect of the portal’s explosion.

Danny never understood what was happening to him. In all honesty, he’s still not sure if he completely understands. What he knew and what he knows, though, is that something within him began to shift.

He began to shift.

Why did the cold winter air seem to embrace him? Why did the night sky whisper to him with offers of belonging? Why did he find himself seeing new colors and new lights out of the corners of his eyes?

He tried to explain it to his friends, his family, his doctors. The former took some interest, but lost it quickly with nothing to back it up. The latter only used it as evidence for his diagnosis.

It didn’t help when things got more serious, after Sam changed the lunch menu and he’d had to beat back the ghost he’d accidentally summoned. He found himself drawn to some of the most random places in town - behind the dumpsters at the Nasty Burger, the top of Lookout Hill, the architecture section in the public library. Why those places, he didn’t know. All he knew was that the air in those places felt… different. Thinner, maybe. Like he could poke through it if he found the right place.

He learned to start staying away from those places.

It was worse when he started to be drawn to places that had a much more sinister aura. Like the time when he found himself standing on the side of the road at the site of a bad car wreck, watching as EMTs soberly placed a sheet over a broken body. Or when he ended up standing in the doorway of the hospice center in town as a family with red eyes and tears aplenty quietly shuffled their way out.

It gave even more reason for people to stay away from him. He smells like death, they’d say. He figured they were probably close enough to being right.

And that wasn’t counting the other side effects.

____________________________________________________________

Danny screams.

In an instant, he’s pushed the ghost back from him and scampered away, staring in horror at his burning hands. Many things have happened to him in the past year and a half, but his hands spontaneously catching on fire has not been one of them.

“Interesting,” he can hear the ghost saying, but he doesn’t truly register it. His focus is entirely on the green fire.

It’s only after a few seconds that he starts to wonder why it doesn’t hurt.

He’s heard stories, of course. About how with serious burns, they can destroy nerves before you can register the pain. He himself still has a few destroyed nerves from the explosion. He wonders if that’s what’s happening to him now. It would explain why he’s in such shock, unable to do anything to actually put out the fire.

And then he finally processes three very important things.

One: the fire is green. Not normal fire by any means.

Two: he can’t see any damage to his hands, even as the fire burns. And it doesn’t move any farther than his wrists.

Three: he can feel something. It’s not heat. His hands tingle, but not painfully. Rather, it feels like he’s dunked his hands into a bowl of ice water. Or like snow has wrapped around them.

His eyes snap up to the ghost. “What the hell did you do to me?” he shouts. His voice shakes with panic.

The ghost is as placid as ever. It holds a gloved hand up towards its chin. Danny hates feeling like the subject of some twisted experiment.

“That power has always been within you, young halfling,” it says. It could be Danny’s imagination, but he thinks he hears something akin to wonder in the ghost’s voice. “It would seem that my presence has simply accelerated your discovery of this power.”

Danny opens his mouth, but words escape him. His eyes drift back down to his hands, still lit up.

He shouldn’t be quite so stunned. This isn’t the first time something distinctly supernatural has happened to his body. Memories of arms and legs glitching out of sight and feet slipping through the ground swarm him in a rush.

He still doesn’t know why those things happen, or what they mean.

They scare him.

But he’ll never admit it. Not that he can. These occurrences would be written off as delusions.

The ghost leans down and approaches Danny. Although he’s already pressed flush against the wall, he tries to sink further into it. “Stay away from me!” As he shouts, the fire around his hands flares brighter.

The ghost’s eyes briefly flick to the fire before settling back on Danny. “Relax,” it says. “You are overreacting.” It tilts its head, and Danny sees the glint of teeth again. “Are all humans this… emotionally fragile?”

“I’m about to show you fragile,” Danny growls.

“Hmm. There’s that attitude again.” The ghost sighs. “In all truthfulness, though, you do need to relax. You will never gain control if you are continually losing it, child.”

“That makes zero sense. And how am I supposed to relax when you’re invading my home?”

“Because you are foolish,” the ghost says plainly. Danny wants to throw another punch, but the idea of another freaky thing happening if he touches the ghost keeps his behavior under control. “You are too focused on the external. You must focus on the internal.”

“Well, maybe I could ‘focus on the internal’ if you’d just leave me alone!”

A rush of that musty energy presses Danny into the wall. “You would be wise to listen to me, halfling. I am one of the very few beings that truly does wish to help you. Without my aid, you will leave yourself vulnerable to every single one of the threats behind the veil.” The ghost pauses. “Yourself… and your haunt.”

Danny’s anger falters.

The ghost continues. “What you have seen thus far is but a taste of the threats that wait for you. Everything you have faced up until this point will seem like child’s play compared to what you will face. Your only hope to defend yourself is to listen to me.”

Danny wants to stay angry. He wants to stay feisty and impudent. This is just another intruder after all. One of the many he’s had to beat back to wherever they came from.

But as he stares helplessly into the ghost’s gaze, he can’t help but feel as though he is being pierced down to his very soul. Embedded within those deep red eyes is the afterimage of every star that’s burned itself to death, from the beginning of time to the end. The infinite void of eternity. The promise of planets yet to be created, cosmic dust yet to settle, things that will happen long after the Earth’s Sun has gone supernova and extinguished any trace of life.

Danny cries out. His head snaps backward, breaking the connection to the ghost’s eyes. He pants for breath he didn’t know he’d been lacking.

He gets the impression that perhaps this isn’t just another intruder.

“Who… are you?” he asks again, this time with caution.

The ghost blinks once. “I can be your greatest ally, or I can be your greatest enemy. I am prepared to be both. Whichever one I am rests in your hands.” He nods down to the green flames still licking Danny’s hands.

Danny’s breath hitches. The way this ghost talks, the way it carries itself, he can tell the ghost knows far more than he does. Far more. He’s not sure if the threats of dangers yet to come are valid or not.

But while he asserts his ability to take care of anything thrown at him, he knows the fear in his gut says otherwise.

His fists clench. He grits his teeth. Tears pool in the corners of his eyes. Why do there have to be more threats? Why can’t these ghosts just leave him alone? Why him? Why did all this happen to him? Why must he face this alone?

The questions swarm him like angry hornets. They make it hard for him to think clearly.

His heart begins to race.

“N-no, please,” he gasps. “Not again.”

“You must relax,” the ghost reiterates. “Your abilities are tied to your emotions, as are the abilities of all ghosts. In this case, if you wish to calm the ability, you must first calm yourself, halfling.”

Danny’s stomach turns at the ghost’s words. There’s a hidden implication within them, one that Danny can’t quite put his finger on. He’s sure he does not like it, though.

“I can’t just… calm down,” he says. It’s the truth. Even a year and a half of intense therapy and psychiatric treatment hasn’t taught him how to simply shut off his emotions.

The ghost hums and puts a hand to its chin again. “How is it you humans deal with such strange matters?” He shakes his head before Danny can respond. “No matter. I can assist you by using my power to influence yours, but you must trust me to touch you again.”

Danny’s head whips back and forth wildly. “Because it went so well the last time I touched you?” he says. He hates the note of panic he can hear in his voice.

“That was, as you call it, a fluke. As I said, the power was always within you. My influence has simply brought forth that power early.”

“And how do you know it won’t happen again?”

Teeth flash underneath the hood of the cloak. “I have far more control over my abilities than you, boy. Rest assured I will be able to control something as simple as this.”

Danny’s heart thumps loudly. The ghost extends a hand towards him, and Danny instinctively flinches away from it. He can already feel the ghost’s presence beginning to press up against him again, and it only makes him more anxious.

But…

But.

There’s something different about it now.

Something that reminds him of his mother gently kissing his brow while putting a bandage on his scraped knee. Something that reminds him of his father’s bear hugs that wrap him up in a safe cocoon. Something that reminds him of the weighted blanket Jazz got him last year for Christmas, in an attempt to provide him with something to help with his leftover trauma from the accident.

“Stop it,” he says, but there’s no weight behind his words. “I didn’t… say you could… influence me.” Because as much as he hates to admit it, the ghost’s presence is affecting him. He can feel it in his heartbeat, in his breathing, as they both begin to slow.

He’s lucky he looks up in time to see the ghost’s eyes widen for the briefest of seconds. “You can already feel me?” it asks. Fascination dances behind its words, and Danny feels like he’s a being watched like a zoo animal again.

“Yes, now can you please… stop it?” Danny chances looking into the ghost’s eyes again. “I-I’ll calm down or whatever, just… please…”

To his surprise, the pressure against his chest lessens, and the vague notions of safety dissipate. The ghost floats backward a foot or two.

He feels like he can breathe again.

It’s strange, he thinks to himself. How he seems to calm much easier without the ghost’s… influence. Maybe it’s the feeling of regaining some control over the situation. Maybe it’s because he feels less like he has to defend his territory.

He looks up at the ghost. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

He’s surprised to realize he means it.

The flames die out.

____________________________________________________________

Once Danny figured out exactly what was happening within him to trigger the cracks, he tried desperately to keep it from happening at all costs.

Some tactics worked better than others. Timing his breath to the list of Jupiter’s moons was one. His therapist had been thrilled to hear that he’d taken her advice.

He tried journaling, at the encouragement of another of his therapists and his sister. It worked a bit at first. It gave him a place to vent about the ghosts and everything happening with them without running the risk of being scolded for “giving into his delusions.” It quickly lost whatever effectiveness it had, though.

Eventually, he simply tried to shut his emotions off. He tried to become uncaring, unmoved. Tried not to let everyone’s harsh words get to him as much.

That failed miserably.

Then again, so did every other tactic he tried.

At some point, they all failed. The cracks were inevitable.

They always would be.

____________________________________________________________

The ghost, for what it’s worth, keeps true to its promise to teach him how to close the cracks.

Ironically, though, it involves traveling through yet another crack.

It’s not Danny who opens it. The ghost waves its hand, and another hole in reality sparks to life inside his bathtub. The ghost’s crack is far neater than Danny’s - smoother, larger, not jagged like the forked branches of lightning.

Danny watches, and he can’t help but be in awe. The simplicity with which the ghost opened it blows him away.

“Can it really be that easy?” he asks. The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop himself. Immediately, he regrets it. His goal isn’t to learn how to create the things. He just needs to know how to stop them.

At the same time, the idea of being able to open the cracks without devolving into near panic, without feeling like his body is being ripped in two…

It’s enticing.

“With patience and precision, yes.” The ghost tilts its head at Danny. “Two things you severely lack, halfling.”

Anger flares in Danny. Somehow, he manages to wrangle it down to a simmer.

“Let’s go,” the ghost says. If it felt Danny’s silent outburst, it does not indicate so.

“Go where?” Danny asks. Realization hits him a moment later. “Through it?”

“Going above it or around it would hardly do us any good.”

Danny balks. “I - can’t you just show me here? Why do we have to go through?”

The ghost is silent for a long moment. It stares unblinking at Danny. “If you wish to stay here,” it says, low and dark, “the consequences of doing so will rest on your head.”

Danny doesn’t need his sister’s intelligence to understand what the ghost is getting at now.

“Alright, fine, I get it, it might get messy,” he concedes. “But… do we really have to go through it still?”

“You’re fearful.” It’s not a question.

Danny reflexively puffs his chest up. “I’m not afraid,” he fires back.

It’s a lie.

He wonders if the ghost knows it.

The ghost hums. “If it helps, this portal simply leads to another location here in your human world. You do not need to enter my world. Not yet.”

Danny’s head snaps towards the crack at hearing the last of the ghost’s words. “Not yet?”

He doesn’t like those implications.

“I grow weary of your refusal to cooperate, child,” the ghost says with a sigh. “You will enter this portal if you wish to learn how to close the cracks and defend yourself. If you do not, I can assure you of the hardships you will try and fail to face.”

“Okay! Okay. Just… stop being so… doomer. I get the idea already.”

“Then by all means…” The ghost sweeps an arm out towards the crack with a cheeky bow.

Reluctantly, Danny steps into the bathtub to stand before the crack. It’s the same vibrant green as the one earlier, as all the ones that had come before it. He can’t see what lies on the other side through the swirling green void.

Slowly, he reaches out and puts his hand through.

The sensation is… surprisingly pleasant. His hand meets empty air on the other side, but at the thin point where his forearm is split between two locations, where the crack touches his skin, he’s met with energy.

It’s pure and it’s raw. It’s electric. It’s invigorating and nothing like Danny has ever felt before. Standing here, in the glow of the crack through reality, he feels like he’s finally on solid ground. Like he’s found the thing that sings to him and his heart, rather than brutalizes it. Fear flushes from his body.

It’s all in such stark contrast to everything the cracks have brought him thus far. For a year and a half, it’s been oppressive. Looming over his head. Threatening to seize his heart and his breath.

But now?

He feels like he can do anything.

And that’s just with his arm partway through.

Without another thought, Danny leaps through the crack.

It’s every bit as exhilarating as he’d hoped.

____________________________________________________________

In the months after the explosion, Danny often found himself spiraling into existential trains of thought. One does not simply go through a near-death experience without having a bit of existentialism on the side.

His therapists took this to mean he had lost his sense of identity as part of his trauma. It’s okay to feel like you’ve lost yourself, they’d tell him. Like you don’t know who you are anymore.

They would sit him down and force him through exercise after exercise, trying to identify his sense of self, the traits he felt like he embodied, everything that made Danny, Danny.

Who am I?

It was the question the therapists challenged him to ponder, time after time. Only you can answer that question for yourself, Danny.

He wanted to scream every time he was made to fill out another chart. Or outline who he thought he was. Or draw up things to symbolize himself. The question of who he was wasn’t the cause of his existential spirals. He already knew who he was.

Mostly, anyway.

No, it was a different question that plagued him time after time. After every crack, every encounter with a ghost, every unexplainable sight or sound he came across.

What am I?

A year and a half later, he still doesn’t know.

____________________________________________________________

Danny trips over his feet as he exits the crack.

He’s still breathless from the sheer euphoria from the experience. His body shakes from the overwhelming feeling of power coursing through his veins. He wants to laugh, or maybe cry. Maybe both.

Where has this been for the past year and half? How could he have gone so long without experiencing something like this?

He turns around to face the crack. In an instant, he’s up against it once more, trying to savor any last dredges of the energy that he can.

He realizes that this is the closest he’s ever been to one of the cracks. He’s stayed away from them like a plague, only getting close enough to shove ghosts back through. Their presence has always weighed heavily on him, but now Danny wonders if that’s really the case.

No, something heavy has always accompanied the cracks. But… are the cracks themselves responsible for the pressure in his chest?

For the first time, he’s starting to think he’s had it wrong.

There’s a tingle in his chest, then a push, then pressure. This is the feeling he’s far more familiar with. Knowing what it heralds, he steps to the side. A moment later, the cloaked ghost makes its way through the crack.

“There,” it says once fully on this side of it. “Was that so bad?”

Danny opens his mouth. His instinct is to gush about it, to tell the ghost that it was the farthest thing from “bad.”

Those haunting red eyes turn on him, and the words die on Danny’s tongue.

He huffs and kicks at the ground. “It wasn’t terrible,” he mutters quietly.

They’re on a dirt road, somewhere rural. Fields dormant for the winter sprawl out on either side of the road. A lone set of electrical lines runs along the side of the road. He can’t see any buildings around.

“Wait, where are we?” he asks, trepidation in his voice. Belatedly, he wonders if blindly trusting a very powerful ghost was smart.

“Not far,” the ghost responds. It does not elaborate. Instead, it seals the crack they’ve just come through with a lazy wave of its hand.

The second time witnessing it is just as mesmerizing as the first.

“Why do we have to come all the way to the middle of nowhere to do this? Seriously, why couldn’t you just show me back home?”

The ghost hums. It stares at the horizon, unfocused. “There are things you have yet to understand, halfling. You will learn in time.”

Danny grits his teeth. “Listen, you said you wanted to help me. So quit being all creepy-cryptic and help me.”

“I do not take well to people making demands of me,” the ghost says sharply. A cold breeze rustles the dead leaves on the road and in the fields. “We will operate on my schedule. A halfling child will not dictate it to me.”

Though he doesn’t know why or how, Danny’s instincts scream at him to rise to meet the challenge. To tell the ghost that it may want to operate on its own schedule, but this is Danny’s territory. That it can’t simply wander in and out of his world as it pleases and act as though it is in charge.

It takes every ounce of self-control he can muster to tamper those instincts.

He’s none too eager for the ghost to get mad at him again.

“What do I do then?” he grumbles.

The ghost floats to Danny’s side. “To learn how to control the cracks, you must first learn to take notice of the world around you.” It sweeps its arm out. “Tell me what you see here.”

“What? I don’t… there’s nothing to notice. What does this have to do with anything?”

“If you do not notice anything by looking, then notice by seeing.”

“That literally makes zero sense!”

The ghost ignores Danny’s outburst this time. “You can already see more than other humans,” it says tiredly. As though it’s explained this to him hundreds of times already. “But you ignore it. You ignore the world around you to maintain little more than an illusion.”

Danny’s stomach does a little ballet. The ghost… isn’t wrong. The glimpses of colors he has no human words for, the way his eyes are drawn to seemingly invisible movements, the dancing lights always in the corners of his eyes, they are all things he knows he can see that others can’t.

He hates it.

“Maybe ignoring it is better,” he retorts. There’s some fire in his words, but not much.

“Better for who? For those around you? For you? The answer is neither. How can you wish to protect your haunt when you turn a blind eye to that which supposedly threatens it?”

“As long as it stays on their side of the crack, it’s fine.” Even as he speaks, Danny realizes he’s losing confidence in his words. It’s terrifying.

“Naive child,” the ghost mutters. Disgust taints its words. Or is that…

… disappointment?

Danny doesn’t have time to figure it out. The ghost continues speaking.

“Nothing is ever black and white. There is never such a thing as two absolute sides.” It picks up a single dry leaf and twirls it in its hand. “Everything begins, and everything ends. What happens in between is in shades of gray.”

Danny’s head is beginning to spin. “In English please?”

The ghost sighs. “You expect life and death to remain two very distinct sides, never touching one another. This is shortsightedness.” It lets the leaf go. It drifts away on a breeze. “Life and death intermingle closer than you can ever imagine.”

Danny’s breath catches in his throat. “Life and… death?”

“Of course.” The ghost’s eyes turn on him. “What did you expect this to be about?”

“I… I don’t…” Danny’s tongue feels thick in his mouth suddenly. Words choke up in his throat, and he can’t get them out.

Before the portal accident, ghosts were a thing of fantasy. Simply his parents’ crackpot ravings. The accident proved those crackpot ravings to be real. As real as anything else. Despite the dozens of people telling him he’s hallucinating, or that he’s psychotic, he knows this is all real.

He can feel it, deep within him.

But for as real as he knows ghosts and their world are, he’s never had to consider why they exist. Where they truly come from.

Something flutters in his chest, and he can’t decide if it’s his heart or something else.

Human. Ghost.

Life. Death.

And him, somehow wrapped up in it all.

He thinks he might throw up for the second time that day.

The ghost is apparently unbothered by Danny’s newest existential crisis. “What you consider to be my world is in constant contact with what you consider to be yours. And yours is in constant contact with mine. They influence each other. They exist within one another. They are inseparable, woven into each other.”

It floats over to one of the electrical poles. There’s nothing remarkable about it. “You must be able to see this coalescence if you ever wish to understand the intricacies of things as complex as portals. So, halfling…” It pauses to run a hand down the pole.

“Tell me what you see.”

Danny is at a loss. Maybe his brain is finally starting to catch up with everything that has happened in the last couple of hours. Maybe he’s finally becoming overwhelmed by all this. Ghosts wanting to help him, a strange awakening of powers slumbering inside him, everything traveling through the crack had fed him…

… talks of life and death…

He wants this to be a nightmare. He wants to wake up. He wants to go back to a few hours ago - no, yesterday - no, last month - no, a year and a half ago, and pretend this doesn’t exist.

His heart beats faster.

Io Europa Ganymede

“I don’t see anything,” Danny insists, even as inhuman colors and glowing lights creep into his vision.

“What do you see, halfling?”

“I think I’m done,” he tries. “I - I can’t…”

Can’t what? Can’t try? Can’t see?

Callisto, Almathea, Himalia

Can’t… breathe?

His heart races.

“You must see.”

“I don’t want to,” he gasps. Static is filling the air, and he doesn’t know if he can catch his breath. Why can’t he catch his breath? He should be able to catch his breath.

What am I?

The dirt road groans, and dust stirs.

Elara… Pasiphae…

“Please…” His knees shake and the air around him sizzles and the glowing lights are looking at him.

“You must see, halfling.”

He can feel the crack building inside him. It wants out. It pounds against his chest and strangles his heart.

Where is his pulse?

What am I?

The dirt road groans louder.

Sinope…

Even without a mirror, Danny can feel the cold burn in his eyes. Knows they are blazing toxic green. The same green as the lights staring at him.

The… ghosts staring at him.

One of them prods at the pole the ghost floats beside. Like it’s pointing.

Carvings begin to appear on the pole, in the same inhuman colors he can’t name. They’re shoddy, messily carved, and clearly not English. Symbols of lines and swoops and dots.

Danny can read them.

“We see you,” they say.

“No…” he groans. Hands fly up to grip his head, and the glow from his eyes give the illusion of the fire that had consumed those hands not twenty minutes earlier.

He can’t feel his heart anymore.

What am I?

“You see now,” the ghost says. It is unblinking and stoic in the face of Danny’s crisis.

In a last fit of desperation, as he claws for anything to pull him out of this, Danny latches on to the fleeting thrill of crossing through the crack. He tries to remember how it felt. How wonderful it was to feel empowered for once. How the energy seemed to embrace him, not work against him.

How he felt like he could do anything.

He latches on, expecting it to offer relief to his crying body. He wants it to bring him back down to Earth, ground him where cracks and seemingly invisible ghosts and strange words and life and death cannot get to him.

Much to his dismay, it seems to have the opposite effect. His body remembers how it felt to hold that energy.

And now…

What am I?

… it wants more.

The ghost is in front of him once more. When did it get there?

Danny can’t scream as the ghost lifts a hand towards his chest. He’s long since lost the ability to breathe.

“And now, the final touch,” the ghost murmurs. It presses a single finger in the center of Danny’s chest.

And everything explodes in a blinding white light.

____________________________________________________________

At one of his follow-up appointments, shortly after the explosion, Danny finally worked up the courage to ask something that had been plaguing him since he’d woken up in the hospital.

How bad was it? he had asked the doctor. How close was I to…

The doctor had refused to look him in the eye. You’re a very lucky boy, Danny, was all she would say.

He never did find out how close he came to death’s door that day.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the light clears, Danny opens his eyes.

Something has changed. Something is wrong.

Something is very, very wrong.

He clutches his chest, trying to feel his heart, but it feels as though a snowball has taken residence where it should be. It pulses, but not at a frequency he is familiar with. It’s almost as though he can hear it pulse rather than feel it.

It’s unnaturally bright. He looks down and chokes back a sob of surprise to see his body wrapped in a gentle glow.

What am I?

Trembling, he raises his left arm. How he remembers that it’s that one, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know.

He pulls back the sleeve of the black hoodie (why is it black, he’s never owned a black hoodie) and stares in silent horror at the grotesque display of lightning that runs up his arm and disappears back into the hoodie.

It’s when bangs of snow white fall in front of his eyes that he collapses to the ground.

“No,” he whimpers. His voice echoes with static stronger than it ever has. “Please, God, no.”

What am I?

“Astounding.”

Danny’s head snaps up to look at the ghost. He falters when he realizes he can see the ghost��s features now, clear as day even though its face remains partially shrouded in shadow. Those damning red eyes - one marred by a scar - twinkle at him with fascination.

“What did you do to me?” he croaks. “I can’t… I’m not…”

“As I told you, halfling,” the ghost says. Its gentle, knowing smile sends chills down Danny’s spine and sets alarm bells ringing in his head. “Life and death must meet somewhere.”

It bends down to Danny’s level. “As it would seem, you are that somewhere.”

A strangled sob escapes Danny’s throat.

“Congratulations, Danny.” It sweeps its arm out, a staff in hand. Another crack spirals into existence, accompanied by the haunting echoes of ticking clocks. “You have learned all you need to from me.”

Without another word, it disappears into the crack. The crack closes with the toll of a bell.

Tears prickle at Danny’s eyes. He can only turn and look down the dirt road, at the product of his creation.

A green crack splits the road in two, as far as Danny can see.

Danny falls against the ground and cries.

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