whoever said sleep was a choice. YOU LIE... :"3 I'm a being who lives on caffeine adictions, no sleep and pure spite I'mma fear you when you just barely touch me.
All I can say, is I was so bored I've been alternating scrolling through Tumblr and Pinterest for the past 4 hours... And suddenly I have an idea.
We get Danny in so many stories. We have Danny I'm many shaped and forms. We have Danny good day and bad day. We have Danny friendly, Danny gremlin, Danny non trusting. Danny 'wtf is happening' and Danny 'what do you mean people can't just make friends whenever they want?'. Danny 'imma just adopt everyone I meet into my fake family'. And so on and so forth.
So hear me out.
Danny, whos friendly with the Gotham villains, because yes they're villains but they're not monsters like the joker bastard. In particular, his bff/fatherly figure is Mr freeze. And 2nd almost bff/almost mother figure poison ivy
Danny on a no good, absolutely horrific day, worst time in his in life fleeing to the west after a horrific unintentional reveal caused the death of his sister and ex parents Maddie and jack Fenton when jazz blew up the portal after freeing him from a direction table.
So now he's in Gotham, surviving in the streets.
But there is one problem. Danny haddnt realized how u normal Amity park actually was.
In Amity it was normal for people to have certain features like freckles, eyes, teeth, birthmarks, hair, ears or even nails to be 'unnatiral' whether that be some sort of glowing, being elongated or sharp, very uniquely snapped etc.
It was also normal for people to have a need to either take a bath in extreme iced or boiling water just to bring their personal body temperature to a level that won't make them on the brink of a fever.
And unfortunately because of Danny being surrounded by the cause of this since he was just an egg and sperm, he has it quite heavy.
Almost a fantastical looking boy he was to others. The pointed ears, glowing freckles, moon shaped birth mark on his neck, emotional glowing eyes, occasional hissing or purring.
But most specifically, the need to be on the brink of freezing otherwise he starts feeling like he'd pass out from a heat stroke.
Now before he coped with this by using his ice powers, cooling patches, wearing summer clothes 24/7-12 month a year. But what was normal in Amity was far from normal in Gotham.
Danny: in Gotham in the middle of April, hiding out in an alley way sweatting proffusely wearing a pair of lose, breathable jeans and a thin and extremely lose NASA t shirt with a pair of converse. Gone through his 7th bottle of water half way through the day, trying to generate some ice but not able to do much as all his energy is focussed on healing the skin that had been sliced open joy even a week before.
By a stroke of luck, he's in the area when Mr freeze attacks. And all Danny can figure out is that just moment ago he was half way to unconsciousness in a back alley hiding from ppl to not bring attention to himself and his freely looks. And next, he's encoumpased by ice his body temperature dropping rapidly and bringing relief to him, allowing his energy to go back to healing him and not also trying to bring down his temp.
He sighs with relief before collapsing from the exhaustion. But the bats don't take him out the ice. Why? Because they didn't know he was there. After all no cameras, hidden in a closed off alleyway, out of sight, no calls for help, no detectable heart beat do to Danny being deathly slow and weak.
Danny wakes up the next day, mostly melted ice with some clumps still clinging to him. Thats when he remembers the villain Mr, freeze.
Danny will be honest he spent the next week trying to find any word of the supposed villain. But he couldn't find much. However after the week his injuries had healed enough he could start generating some ice. So he'd get by daily by freezing his midsection under his shirt.
Days pass and Danny is going by normally. When one day when he's sitting/sleeping in an abandoned garden he encounters poison ivy. At first ivy is angry a ignorant person is polluting her garden and intended to scare him out, but then she gets close to him and wraps vines around the sleeping boy and recoils after the freezing feeling shot through the touch.
When Danny wakes up, he finds the said plant lady start to interrogate her. And Danny? He feels comfortable because she's also not 'normal'. He explains his boddy temperatur needs.
Which in turn gives ivy the idea to introduce him to freeze. So for now she let Danny stay in her green house with her and Harley. It helps that Danny doesn't mind eating meat prominent meals around her, and that he has a love for plants thanks to Sam.
Eventually ivy brings Danny along with her to the villain bi weekly meetings up game/movie night.
She introduced Danny, explaining that he wasn't a normal human and was okay being around ivy and needed to introduce him to Victor (Mr freeze).
To say that Danny hit it off well with everyone there was an understatement.
Waylon (Croc) loved the inhuman looking boy, they liked to play wrestle sometimes, and Danny helped salon protect the street kids around crime alley and old Gotham sometimes.
Ed (riddle) enjoyed giving the kid puzzles, and testing out puzzle games he was creating for kids around the poorer part of Gotham and Danny obliged the clockwork riddle talk helped him alot.
Selina (catwoman) adores the feline little kid especially since he helps her feed the strays and donate some of her 'borrowed' riches to food banks.
And Harvey (teo face) enjoys the kids ability to medley with his mentality and helps him organise the occasional cases he take up for some civilians.
Harley loves the little boy as she's noticed he helps bring out the best in everyone and in general just is a laugh for her to be around him and he helps her girlfriend and best friends with their side works.
But Victor? (Mr freeze) He take the most liking to the kid. His wife loves Danny, and Danny can be around him without having to bundle up like he's headed to the Arctic.
-
Danny doesn't have anything bad to say about any of them. And he spends more and more time around Victor, enjoying the fact he can save energy and won't overheat.
Victor and Pamela are his favourites. And both of them love him equally. He helps with Ivy's plants, and rounds together street kids to help her so that she could make vines for the kids to play with occasionally like on climbing frames.
And Victor doesn't need to accommodate Danny when he starts at his place which he had modified to be able to go to sub zero temperatures when he's there, and just in general he starts feeling familial love towards Danny. Subconsciously he starts referring to Danny as his son without even realizing.
It has been months Danny had essentially become family to these rouges. The only exception is joker, not even the rouges like joker. They hated to be put in the same category as that monster.
Danny is hanging out with the group when he gets an idea during one of their tea times.
Danny: what if, just hear me out. What if we create a day or days in Gotham where it was just like you guys using your powers to like make a fun day for gothamites?
Ivy: what do you mean?
Danny: like. Okay, so it's approaching summer time, and Gotham will be horribly hummid, so what if Vic does like a ice skating thing for everyone to enjoy? Or ivy you could do some plant art in pride month? You see what I mean?
Riddle: That thought is true, we could see it through quite well, your ideas ring so much like a bell on wedding days.
Harley: oooo, that sounds like an amazing idea. Then Ed could do something like a puzzle room night? Oh, oh and Waylon could do building work and all tha' oh, oh and-and-
Ivy: harls, dear take a breath.
Victor: I like that idea. But how would we know if the citizens would take it well?
Waylon: how we know, that they won't be scared?
Riddle: we start with one, and ends in fun. If it flops we drop the thought.
Danny: exactly. Lets do the ice idea first?
Ivy: ... You just want a day you don't need to be wrapped in ice.
Danny: okay yea, but! I thought of the people for this idea too. Waddya say?
Everyone: okay/yeah/lets do it/yes.
Over the next week they planned their summer ice skating session. Danny visited the library to create some posters and printed them off. Decided on the place and handed them out all over the place.
When the day arrived Victor arrived to the large grazz park ivy grew for him to freeze over to see a crowd big enough to fill half the Gotham museum. Most of them holding the flyers, some holding some warm clothes and everyone holding a pair of skates.
Victor smiled. Truly smiled. He greeted everyone, and warned them to step off the field for now to let him freeze it over, and explained that he would go around every 20-30 minutes refreezing more melted parts, then finished by wishing them fun.
The next few hours were spend with kids, adults and families having fun skating around, throwing some snowballs around after Danny also got the idea to create some snow. More people started arriving throughout the session. And even the Wayne family and friends came to skate, apparently some businesses closed for the day or closed earlier because even the managers wanted to cool down on the hottest day of the year so far.
It was safe to say that bey the time it was turning night and everyone left Victor had felt the most happiest since before his condition affected him.
---
Side idea to this---
Danny at least once a week asks Victor to just freeze him with his gun so that he could sleep in peace especially since it was approaching summer and heat waves were be coming frequent. Danny would stay over at victors place more often than not as it was the only place he felt the most at ease in this horrendous e heat.
So when the batfamilly crashed victors house and kidnapped Danny thinking he was an endangered civillian that Mr freeze took hostage, they done and fucked up.
It was bang in the middle of summer, and he was being held hostage in a cave/cell because the bats thought Danny had been mind controlled and deemed him a danger to himself especially as his core temp had been so low and wasn't reacting.
So when Mr freeze had come home from a discreete shopping for some food to find Danny missing his stomach dropped. He called, Pamela after Harley didn't pick up, then Ed, then Waylon. Non of them had seen him. And hour passed, then two. Then Victor gave in.
He didn't trust the gang he employed to find Danny, every one of his friends were already looking. The only ones left were the bats.
So there he was, on a roof in shooting his gun up in the air, occasional freezing a lamp post trying to catch the attention of the bats, or at least the one day bat he knew patrolled during the day.
And eventually he came, signal snuck up behind him making a snide remark not attacking ad there hadn't been ant actual casualties and people were actually great full for the ice, before stopping after seeing Victor look panicked.
He spoke through incoherent sentences talking about how someone named Danny had been taken, and he needed to find him before it's too late etc, etc. When Mr freeze said a certain sentence it clicked for signal who he was on about and instantly switched to a passive aggressive tone telling him how they took away the civilian he had been hurting for his own safety.
At first freeze blue screened, before trying to throw a punch which caught the bat by surprise. Then without realizing Victor was yelling at the day bat to 'return his son before they killed him'.
It took some time before signal realized what was happening and panickly contacted the bats. He quickly calmed down freeze so that he could explain more clearly. And once he did, the batfamilly that had been originally trying to find a way on how to un do the 'mindcontrol' while making sure the cell Danny was kept in stayed at a warm temperature, ran to the said cell to find one Danny passed out on the floor unconscious, temperature at what would be classes as normal but looking like he was at the peak fever of a cold.
They went into work mode to try and cool the boy down instantly, while freeze was led to the cave by signal blindfolded.
Safe to say as soon as freeze saw Danny he was on the brink of a panic attack, he shot his cryo gun at the ice tub Danny was now in, essentially eveloping him in ice, while the bats fought the urge to run to 'help' Danny.
It wasn't long before Danny woke up. After things were sorted out the situation was explained to the bats. There were missunderstandings about the 'son's situation but no one was brave enough to ask. Danny and freeze left later after the bats had uploaded a file on Danny so that they know how to actually help him in the future instead of the fucked up help they did this time.
Later in the week the batfamilly had sent some apology and thank ypu gifts to Danny, to both apologize for the incident, and thank Danny after they found out it was Danny's idea to do the weekly ice skating that freeze was running this year, and all the help and community activities the other rogues were doing all of a sudden after summer started.
Danny Fenton is nothing special in Gotham. Just another face among the homeless population, slowly making his way through different parking lots at different hours of the day. He can't linger too long, because people start to throw him dirty looks, as if his lack of home was a personal sin Danny committed against them.
He didn't like to stay in one place for too long. Danny learned that was only asking for trouble. So he wandered, moving throughout the city in a directionless march, settling down for the night where he could.
It was easy to tell he was homeless, given the fact that he carried everything he owned in a stolen shopping cart. There were nights when he had to fight off other homeless people from stealing his things. It was easier to beat up adults, but sometimes his bleeding hero heart that was buried somewhere deep within his core would allow a child or two to make off with his hard-earned panhandling money or even warm articles.
Mostly, though, he found a place that avoided everyone, and if he was still enough, they would ignore him in turn.
Danny's days moved in a blur. Slow, but not so slow that he lost track of time. He knew how many days he had been in Gotham, ever since his accident, and each new sunrise earned a single scratch mark on his precious shopping cart.
Sometimes, while taking shelter under a bridge to avoid Gotham's rain, he recounts the marks. Danny would run his fingers over the marks he created with anything sharp- usually a rock- wondering if his family still searched for him. If they thought him dead. If they thought about him at all.
Two hundred forty-three days. Eight months.
That was how long Danny had been here, in Gotham, as part of her homeless citizens. Where he had landed after he foolishly thought himself invincible, because he was the ghost in the town's most famous ghost story. The hero of the tale.
But there was one thing he never considered about ghost stories. They only survived if people told the new generation about them, and even then, only if the new generation believed them. Ghost stories were meant to be cautionary tales, sometimes just something to pass the time around a campfire, but when people grew bored with them, they became irrelevant.
Disgarded.
Forgotten.
And that was what happened to Danny. Because of Phantom, people's memories of Fenton began to fade. Not in an obvious way, but slowly it became noticeable. Danny's teachers would trip over attendance because they couldn't remember who Daniel Fenton was. His friends would forget little things like what he was allergic to, why he hated changing in front of others, and what movies he loved.
His family would have dinner without calling him down because they had forgotten he was home. His mom would come into his room, shocked to find a bedroom and not a broom closet like she had thought his closed door was. His dad would proudly call himself a father of one until Danny cleared his throat, and he had to correct himself that he had two children.
His sister would forget why she had so many scrapbooks about Danny Phantom, asking the household at large, only for her eyes to land on Danny in the living room, and she realized the reason.
But what really caught his attention was the day before his accident. Danny had woken to his house being silent, his sister leaving without him, despite always driving him to school. His parents had left a note on the table, addressed only to Jazz, telling her they were going out for the day to pick up supplies for the lab and that they would return late in the evening or early the next morning.
His parents always asked Danny if he wanted to go, knowing the boy adored shopping for lab supplies on their rare trips, only because the drive was six hours and was next to his favorite NASA store. They always let him miss school for it, but this time, they left without notice. His phone had no messages from Tucker or Sam, despite the group chat being utterly active every Friday morning and the night before; he was the last to post in it.
His friends left him on read, something they had never done before.
The morning had been odd, but Danny figured he would go to school. He figured there must have been an explanation for it all, maybe both Sam and Tucker got grounded at the same time and lost their phone privileges. Maybe Jazz had a big presentation she was nervous about and left in a rush as her anxiety tended to leave her scatterbrained?. Maybe his parents figured his grades couldn't handle any more missed days and chose to go out without facing him, knowing they would cave if he begged?
Danny didn't know, but he got dressed, made himself breakfast, and walked to school.
When he reached Casper High, that's where things really took a turn for the worse. Dash and the A-listers were at the entrance, meaning Danny's already off morning was about to become a painful one. He had steeled himself for whatever cutting comment they would throw at him, even prepared to run if Dash was feeling extra cruel that morning, but when Danny walked by the chatting group, no one spared him a glance.
It was the first time since second grade that they ignored him.
When he got to his locker, Tucker and Sam were nowhere to be seen. He would have tracked them down to ask what was going on with the A-listers, but the bell rang, and he had to run to class. Danny's walk to school and a slight sleep-in had meant his sense of time was off, so he arrived late to his first period.
Mr. Lancer usually didn't allow students into the classroom without a good excuse, and Danny was fearing today would start off with a cursed tardy sweep. When he got to the door, his teacher was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, listening to another student desperately explain why she had been late.
Danny got behind her, ready to beg as he didn't want to spend the first period in detention, but the moment Mr. Lancer saw him, the older man nodded his head to let him pass. "I understand a new school can be confusing. I'll let it go for the first week, but try not to make a habit of it, Mr...?"
It took Danny longer than necessary to realize Mr. Lancer was asking for his name. "Um, Fenton? Mr.Lancer, are you alright? It's me, Danny Fenton."
Before his teacher could respond, the other student once again attempted to appeal to the strict teacher, and Danny was forced to move on. Inside the room, heads turn to stare at him, more curious than mocking looks that he was used to. Sam and Tucker were in the back, but his usual seat next to them was taken up by Micky.
Now, there were no assigned seats, but everyone knew the unspoken rule that if you sat in a place the first day of class, that was your seat. Why had Micky broken the rule in the middle of the school year?
Danny had tried to make his way to the back of the room, ready to ask the fellow nerd to move, when Star, of all people, had grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Hi!"
"Ugh, hey?" He replied as she batted her eyes- did she have something in them?
"I've never seen you around before. I'm Star," She introduced, moving her hand to the few A-listers in the class. "This is Dash and Kwan."
"Hey," Dash smiled in an oddly friendly way that made Danny's hair stand on end. Kwan offered his own wave but seemed more comfortable letting Star take the lead as she gestured to an open desk next to them. No one ever bothered to sit there because no one in this class was brave enough to approach them, and the seat had remained open for almost the entire year.
"Sit with us."
"Um,....why?"
"You're cute," Star giggled, and if that wasn't alarming, the way Dash nodded in agreement was. Danny had been shocked; he hadn't been able to refuse when she manhandled him into the seat and leaned in close. "What's your name?"
"Ugh...Danny. Danny Fenton?"
"Any relation to the Fentons who own Fenton Works?" Kwan interrupted. "They're the only Fentons in town."
Danny had never been so confused in his life. He gawked at the bigger boy, wondering if he had a head injury at last night's football practice, but was saved from replying when Mr. Lancer came back into the room- without the female student.
He started the class, and Danny found himself having to spend it by the A-listers, feeling the stares of both Star and Dash throughout the lesson. Then, when the class ended, he didn't get a chance to talk to Sam or Tucker because the school got attacked by a ghost. Danny had managed to escape in the chaos, shifting into Phantom and making quick work of the enemy, but during the battle, his Fenton thermos was damaged, and it not only sucked up the enemy but Danny as well.
Usually, this wouldn't be a problem, but for some reason, Sam, Tucker, or Jazz were outside to release him. Since Danny was stuck with an enemy that was doing its best to smack him in their cramped space, he had tried to force his way out.
Phantom has always been a powerful ghost, more than Danny had realized, because forcing his way out of the Thermos had not only been the first time a ghost escaped it, but his power had unintentionally caused an explosion that ripped a hole into the Ghost Zone.
Danny had been blasted into the zone, sent out of control until he actually crashed through a floating door. He landed in Gotham, a dark and miserable place, and the one means of getting back hope was vanishing before his eyes.
Danny knew why. The only means to the Ghost Zone were natural according to doorways, but if they were ever destroyed, that was it. That world was cut off from the Ghost Zone forever, and the only way back was if someone from the Zone created a portal there. Danny was the son of the rare few who could create a portal, but he never learned how.
He figured his friends or family would come for him. But days went by, and with no sign of them, he had to admit what he had suspected for weeks now.
Danny had vanished from their memory. He had no idea why or how, but he was stuck. Days in Gotham also taught him something else, that was that people here also forgot him if he stayed out of their sight long enough. The realization took all motivation away from playing hero, from doing anything really.
Even when he saw crime after crime happen before him, Danny tucked himself away from it all, trying to crawl his way through life when he had no one and nothing to do that for.
Just him and his shopping cart. Maybe that's why it was such a shock when he was sitting on the curb just one away from the diamond distract when a limo pulled up and stopped right in front of him. Thinking this was nothing good, Danny scrambled to his feet, attempting to grab his things to go before an elderly man jumped out of the driver's seat, looking hopeful. "Daniel? Is that you?"
Surprised that someone knew his name, Danny paused long enough for the elderly man to run to him and grab his hand, turning this way and that to look at his face. "It is you! Oh, dear boy!"
"Um?" Danny started confused, wondering why this old British man was talking to him.
"Oh! You're in a new cycle, I see. Forgotten who I am, is that right? I'm Alfred Pennysworth. You helped me fifty years ago, rescued me, and my entire unit from a POW camp." Alfred replied enthusiastically. "You told us that Phantom was a lot like a phoenix, that when it renewed, either the people in your life forgot you or you forgot us. But I never forgot what you did for us. Said to show you this if I ever saw you again."
The man reached into his shirt and pulled out a necklace. Hanging on the chain was the Fenton Works symbol next to a broken Clockwork amulet.
Danny stared, wonderstruck as Alfred threw an arm around his shoulder. "Forgive me, but you look like you have nowhere to stay. You must come home with me."
"Ugh..I don't-"
"Excellent!" Alfred all but threw him into the backseat. "I can't wait to show you, my family! Hopefully, one of them would be immune to your power."
For the first time in eight months, Danny had a goal besides finding a place to sleep for the night. That was to find out the past he seemed to have forgotten with Alfred and find a way to contact Clockwork. Maybe then he could get home.
Ive been working a lot on all my fic ideas. And I just got another one when scrolling through tik Tok.
We always have the Peter Parker in Gotham skit where he's usually thrown in there via wizard, the dusting etc. And then he's in Gotham thinking like where TF am I. What do I do? Remember what miss Romanov said. Etc. And always dick Grayson is Peter's dad.
Ive been trying to think of an idea where Peter isn't straight away hiding from the bats, cus ive had minor plot ideas for it but no way to start it.
So hear me out. Cliche reason or so for Peter to get sent to Gotham, but he's a bit younger so that he has more cleaner memories of his dad, and maybe more spider shit for trauma reasons. And plot.
Instead of being dropped off somewhere random in Gotham, what if Peter is thrown through a portal unconscious half in his Spidey suit with a letter from doctor strange clipped to him. And it isn't just some type of oh he gets thrown down in front of a bat kid while on patrol. No.
Have him thrown through the manor roof, while the kids and Bruce are having a movie/game night.
They hear a crash bang and boom. They go into bat mode. Alert. Thinking wtf. Is it an attack?
Go to investigate the top floors. And then.
They. Find. Peter.
Mask half burnt showing baby dick resemblance, clearly some kind of hero/sidekick. Greatly hurt. Clearly crashed through the roof and somehow not dead. Then they see the note. Carefully take it and a DNA sample. Read said note and test DNA sample.
Chapter 3.2 - At the Place Where My Demons Lurk. 2/2
Nothing too triggering mentioned but mentions of non descriptive violence, sensitive readers are warned
Sam flicked a hand toward the nearest side hall. “Move, Phantom.”
Danny didn’t need telling twice.
He peeled off fast, ducking down an empty corridor and into one of the maintenance alcoves tucked behind the auditorium where no one sane ever lingered after hours.
One glance.
No witnesses.
Danny dropped his bag, yanked the thermos loose, and flipped the switch.
Light tore through him in a familiar rush.
Cold flooded his veins, exhaustion shifting shape beneath it—not gone, never gone, but easier to carry when the weight of his body changed with him.
By the time the glow faded, Phantom was already airborne.
He shot out through the wall and into open air, scanning the streets below for the source of the disturbance.
It didn’t take long to find.
A ghost hovered three blocks from the school, low over the road and monologuing to a rapidly dispersing cluster of civilians with all the confidence of someone far more dangerous than they actually were.
Danny slowed in the air, eyeing them.
Low-level.
Humanoid.
Somewhere between vaguely threatening and deeply annoying.
Not one he recognized.
Great.
The ghost spread both arms dramatically.
“Tremble, mortals, before the harbinger of—”
Danny inhaled to interrupt.
Then stopped short as another ecto-signature flared at his right.
He turned so fast he nearly overshot the hover.
Jazz—no, not Jazz, his sister in ghost form—slid into the air beside him like she’d been doing this for years.
For one disorienting second Danny’s brain fully stalled.
She looked different in motion.
More refined than her human shape. Sharper in some places, softer in others. Her hair burned in controlled streams around her shoulders, steady instead of wild, her whole silhouette edged in warm spectral light that bent the air around her in subtle ripples.
Danny stared.
Then immediately, instinctively—
“Ja—”
He bit it off so hard his teeth clicked.
Wrong.
Bad idea.
Names were dangerous.
His brain course-corrected so fast it practically gave him whiplash.
“…Sis?!”
She turned toward him with entirely too much composure for someone who had just materialized in active combat.
“What are you doing here?” Danny hissed.
She arched one brow.
“You said I could help occasionally.”
Danny opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
That was—technically.
Objectively.
Horribly.
True.
He hated that she had chosen now to cash in on that agreement.
Jazz—phantoms sister, apparently, because he was already realizing she’d need something else to be called—tilted her head with maddening calm.
“You did say that.”
Danny stared at her.
Then sighed with the full-body resignation of someone already losing an argument he didn’t have time to finish.
“…Fine.”
Across from them, the ghost had finally noticed there were now two halfa-shaped problems interrupting their speech.
They blinked.
Squinted.
Pointed.
“Wait—there are two of you?”
Danny pinched the bridge of his nose.
The ghost looked between them, baffled. “Who is she?”
Jazz opened her mouth.
Paused.
Danny watched the exact second she abandoned saying Jazz.
Then the next where she abandoned saying Phantom as that was his name, and that would get confusing quick.
Then she straightened in the air, expression sharpening into something cool and deliberate.
“Phantom’s sister,” she said smoothly. “Call me Wraith.”
The ghost stared.
Danny stared too, honestly.
Wraith.
Of course she’d already named herself.
Of course she had.
He’ll eat his fist before he admits that it’s actually a cool and fitting name.
The ghost, apparently deciding that was secondary to their original goal, drew themself up again.
“Very well! Then both of you shall witness the might of—”
Danny cut them off with an ectoblast to the chest.
The ghost yelped and pinwheeled backward.
Wraith snorted.
Then the fight started properly.
It ended in under five minutes.
Danny was not prepared for how competent she already was. Or how fast this passed.
Not perfect—he caught the places where she hesitated, where her instincts still lagged half a second behind what experience would eventually smooth out—but she moved well. Fast. Controlled. Smart.
She adapted in real time.
Kept distance when needed. Closed it when it counted. Used her flames with precision instead of spectacle, guiding bursts of heat to redirect movement, cut off escape angles, force openings. Flames seeming to be more easy and preferred than normal ecto attacks, just like his ice.
She listened.
That might have been the most shocking part.
Danny barked one order—left—and she moved left.
Told her duck and she dropped before the blast passed over her head.
No hesitation. No argument. No improvising just to prove she could.
It made the whole thing disgustingly efficient.
The ghost barely had time to realize they were outmatched before Danny clipped them with an ice blast and Wraith boxed them in with a ring of ghostfire hot enough to force them straight into the thermos beam.
One scream, one flash of green—
Done.
Danny capped the thermos and exhaled.
The street fell quiet.
For one suspended second, it was just the two of them hovering in the cooling aftermath.
Danny turned to look at her fully.
Wraith floated a few feet away, bright-eyed and far too composed for someone who had just finished her first real field fight.
Danny stared.
Then, because honesty won before caution could catch it—
“…You learn way too fast.”
Her mouth curved, small and pleased.
“I had a good teacher.”
Danny made a face. “Don’t say things like that.”
Wraith laughed softly and drifted closer.
Up close, with the fight over, she looked less like a weapon and more like his sister again—just brighter around the edges. Warmer. Sharper. Familiar in ways that still kept catching him off guard.
She reached over and ruffled his hair before he could dodge.
Danny recoiled on instinct. “Hey—”
“You’re brave,” she said, and the softness in it hit harder than the fight had. “Reckless. Deeply concerning. But brave.”
Danny flushed instantly. “I hate when you say nice things to me.”
“That sounds like a personal problem.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet correct.”
Danny swatted half-heartedly at her wrist. She ignored him completely, still looking at him with that infuriating mix of fondness and concern that made him want to both flee and hover there indefinitely.
Then—
“THERE’S TWO OF THEM?!”
Both of them jerked.
Danny looked down.
Wes Weston stood on the sidewalk below, backpack half-falling off one shoulder, staring up at them with the wild, vindicated expression of someone whose conspiracy board had just achieved sentience.
He pointed so hard Danny was surprised his arm stayed attached.
“I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT!”
Wes looked one second away from either passing out or ascending.
“There are TWO ghost people! Two! There are TWO OF YOU!”
Danny closed his eyes.
Of course.
Of course it was Wes.
Beside him, Wraith brightened in immediate recognition.
“Oh,” she said, smiling in a way Danny did not trust at all. “That’s Wes?”
Danny groaned. “Unfortunately.”
Wes gasped like he’d just been acknowledged by God.
Wraith drifted down a little, smile widening as she hovered just above street level.
“Well,” she said pleasantly, “you seem informed.”
Wes stared up at her, visibly vibrating with the force of his own vindication.
Danny was already preemptively exhausted.
Wraith extended one hand toward him with calm, terrifying politeness.
“Wraith,” she introduced. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Wes looked at her hand like it was a venomous animal.
Then at her.
Then back at the hand.
He did not take it.
Wraith’s smile sharpened just enough to be interesting.
Wes’ hand shot out so fast Jazz almost thought he was actually going to take it.
Instead, he recoiled like she had offered him a live grenade.
“No!”
The word came out loud enough to bounce off the side of Casper High.
Wes pointed at them both with all the frantic certainty of someone who had just found the final piece of a conspiracy board and was moments away from ascending.
“No, no, no—this proves it! This proves my point!”
Danny, still hovering a few feet off the ground with the thermos tucked under one arm, already looked tired again.
Wes rounded on him first, eyes wild. “Phantom is Fenton!”
Danny sighed. “Oh good. We’re doing this now.”
Wes ignored him entirely, pivoting sharply toward Jazz—Wraith—who still floated at Danny’s side with one hand on her hip and an expression of open amusement.
“And if Phantom has an older sister,” Wes continued, voice rising with every word, “then that means Wraith is Jazz!”
He jabbed a finger at her like he’d just exposed the greatest secret in human history.
“That means I was right!”
By now, the commotion was drawing attention.
Students were spilling out from the front entrance in clusters, slowing as they spotted Phantom hovering in the air and the new ghost beside him.
A few of them perked up immediately.
“Phantom!”
“Yo, Phantom!”
“Did he get it already?”
Someone near the steps glanced up at Jazz with bright curiosity. “Was that the new ghost?”
“Wait, she helped fight it?”
A couple of people started heading over, expressions openly grateful.
Then Wes kept talking.
“This is what I’ve been saying!” he shouted, gesturing wildly between Danny and Jazz. “It’s genetic! It explains everything! Fenton is Phantom, and Jazz Fenton is Wraith!”
The students stopped.
There was a brief silence.
Then, slowly, the expressions around them shifted.
Confusion.
Concern.
Secondhand embarrassment.
One guy near the stairs visibly grimaced.
Another gave Wes the sort of hesitant, uncomfortable look usually reserved for people loudly arguing with pigeons in public.
A girl who had clearly been on her way over to thank Phantom slowed to a stop and leaned slightly toward her friend.
“…Is he okay?”
Her friend made a face.
“Like. Medically?”
Jazz made a strangled sound beside Danny.
Danny lost it.
The laugh burst out of him before he could stop it—sharp, sudden, helpless. He doubled over midair with one hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking as the sound escaped anyway.
It was not dignified.
It was also immediate proof that sleep deprivation had absolutely destroyed what little impulse control he’d had left.
Wes looked personally offended by this.
“Why are you laughing?!” he demanded.
Danny tried to answer.
What came out was an undignified wheeze.
Jazz lasted approximately two more seconds.
Then she broke too.
It started as a snort—one sharp, inelegant sound she very clearly had not meant to make—before she had to cover her mouth, shoulders shaking with barely-contained laughter.
“Oh no,” she managed, voice cracking. “Oh, that is—”
She stopped, laughed again, and had to try a second time.
“That is so much worse out loud.”
Wes stared at them in outrage.
“You’re not denying it!”
Danny wiped at his eyes, still laughing. “Because—” he choked on the next breath and had to start over. “Because nobody else here thinks this is proving what you think it’s proving.”
That only made Wes look more insulted.
He spun toward the small gathering of students as though appealing to a jury.
“Do you people not hear this?!”
A pause.
Then one of the upperclassmen, looking deeply uncomfortable, offered him a careful pat on the shoulder.
“Hey, man,” he said, in the gentle tone of someone trying not to escalate a stranger in public, “maybe drink some water.”
Another student stepped around him entirely, looking up at Danny instead.
“Uh—thanks for getting the ghost, Phantom.”
Danny, still trying to get himself under control, gave him a weak thumbs up.
“Yeah. No problem.”
The student looked at Jazz next, expression brightening slightly despite the lingering confusion.
“And, uh… thanks too. Wraith, right?”
Jazz straightened with immediate composure, like she had not just been laughing hard enough to tear up.
“Wraith,” she confirmed smoothly, with a polite little nod.
The student smiled. “Cool. Thanks.”
A few others echoed the sentiment—quick thanks, curious glances, a cautious hello to the new ghost.
Wes stood in the middle of it all looking like he was actively losing a fight with reality.
“No,” he said again, quieter this time, but no less offended. “No, you’re all missing the point.”
A girl near the front gave him a sympathetic look.
“Oh, honey.”
That did him in.
Wes made a strangled, furious noise, glared at literally everyone involved, and jabbed one last accusatory finger at Danny.
“This isn’t over, Fenton!”
Then he whirled around and stormed off across the school lawn in a haze of wounded indignation and muttered conspiracy.
Danny watched him go.
Jazz watched him go.
There was a beat of silence.
Then Danny snorted.
Jazz made one sharp choking sound.
And they both dissolved all over again.
This time it was quieter—less explosive, more helpless.
Danny tipped backward slightly in the air, one hand over his face. “Oh my god.”
Jazz was openly laughing now, head tipped forward as she pressed the back of one hand to her mouth.
“I thought you were exaggerating,” she admitted between breaths.
Danny dragged a hand down his face. “I never exaggerate about Wes.”
“That was incredible.”
“That was my everyday life.”
Jazz laughed harder.
Danny pointed accusingly at her. “You are not allowed to encourage him.”
“I introduced myself.”
“You made it worse.”
“I shook his worldview.”
“You handed him more evidence.”
“I gave him enrichment.”
Danny made a tired, offended sound.
Jazz grinned.
For a moment they just hovered there, the aftermath of the fight fading into something lighter—something warm and easy.
Then Jazz glanced toward the road. “We should split.”
Danny nodded, exhaling the last of his laughter. “Yeah.”
They couldn’t exactly fly back to the same place together and not make things worse.
Jazz had her own cover to maintain now.
Even if Danny was pretty sure Wes had just hit a new level of insufferable, there was no reason to make it easier for him.
“Same direction for a bit,” Danny said.
Jazz nodded. “Then split off.”
They drifted upward together, casual and unhurried, like they fully intended to continue on as a pair.
Below them, a few students waved.
Jazz offered a smooth little wave back.
Danny gave a lazy salute.
Then, once they were far enough from the school and high enough that no one was paying close attention, Jazz veered left.
Danny peeled right.
No dramatic farewell. No hesitation.
Just a smooth break in formation like they’d done it a hundred times.
Danny watched her go for half a second anyway.
Wraith moved easily through the air—steady, controlled, fire trailing softly at the edges of her silhouette as she disappeared over the neighboring buildings.
She looked natural up there.
Too natural.
That strange mix of pride and worry tightened in his chest again.
Then Danny exhaled, adjusted his grip on the thermos, and angled downward toward the alley where Sam and Tucker were supposed to meet him.
By the time he dropped behind the building and landed, the easy humor had settled into something quieter.
Not gone.
Just softer.
He could still hear Jazz laughing.
Honestly, that alone made the entire day worth it.
Tucker was already there when Danny slipped into the alley, leaning against the wall with Danny’s backpack slung over one shoulder and a half-finished energy drink in hand.
Sam stood beside him, arms crossed, expression unreadable in the way that usually meant she’d already noticed more than Danny wanted her to.
Tucker spotted him first.
“Well,” he said, pushing off the wall, “judging by the fact that we heard Wes screaming from across campus, I’m gonna assume ghost fight successful?”
Danny took his bag back with a muttered, “Yeah.”
Tucker squinted at him.
Then at the lingering look on Danny’s face.
Then at the fact Danny was very obviously trying not to laugh again.
“Oh no,” Tucker said slowly. “What happened?”
Danny slung the bag over one shoulder.
Sam’s gaze narrowed slightly.
“…Why do you look pleased?”
Danny looked between them.
Paused.
Then said, with the solemnity of someone delivering catastrophic news:
“There are two of us now.”
Tucker stared.
Sam blinked.
Danny watched the exact moment both of them realized what that probably meant for Wes.
Tucker folded in half laughing.
Sam covered her face.
And Danny, exhausted and still running on too little sleep and entirely too much secondhand chaos, started laughing all over again.
—
Elsewhere in the great United States of America another sleep deprived, blue eyed black haired teen lay in bed mindlessly scrolling his phone alternating different socialmedias and VPN’s to find something slightly dopamine inducing.
“Tim! Get your ass downstairs, Alfred is almost finished with dinner.”
“Yeah, Yeah, whatever. ‘M tellin’ Alfie you swore.” he answered as he opened his door to reveal a brickhouse of a man, teal shaded eyes with black hair and a tuff of white at the front, falling infront of his eyes unapologetically.
No one would have guessed that said brick house of a man was only just approaching his 21st birthday that year.
“Fuck you.” He came face to face with a hand flipping him the middle finger so he reciprocated it without looking.
Closing the door behind him absently scrolling his phone still, one hand in his pocket, not tripping or bumping into anything thanks to his upbringing.
Cats, politics, theories, art, photography, missing ghost siblings, cats playing piano, dogs falling, bat family theory—
Hold on.
Missing what?
Phantom and Wraith missing? What’s happened?@Bax-Star
Hey, anyone else notice that Phantom and his sister Wraith have been missing since the fentons and friends died in the explosion?
@Paul-Paul
No, I’ve notice it too. But then again, so have all the ghosts? No attacks right?
@WesL
You know, before i would have said this was proof Fenton was Phantom, But now I’m more inclined to believing this has something to do with that time Fenton started spouting about that Portal in his basement?
@ChadChadster
Right, something about a Ghost portal right? Hope the explosion didn’t kill the ghosts. Itd be sad to lose more ppl.
@Kwanster
Can ghosts even die? I mean like, they're already dead? Right?
@Bax-Star
Thats a good question tho?
@Paul-Paul
They shouldn’t be able to, right? That would not look good for next season in life if they could.
@Bax-Star
I’m more inclined to hoping that the ‘Portal’ was real and they’re jut not able to get here.
35 more replys...
read more...
What… The actual…Fuck?
Ghosts? Dead Ghosts? What twitter feed did he go down? Is this some kinds of code? Hold on, Check the VPN first.
Chapter 3.1 - At the Place Where my demons Lurk 1/2
possible mild ideas of body dysmorphia and mild mentions of harm/self harm, sensitive readers are warned
Danny woke up tired in the way only the dead could manage.
Not sleepy. Not groggy. Not the familiar drag of too little rest and too many late nights. This was deeper than that—something marrow-thick and bone-heavy, a fatigue that had settled somewhere behind his ribs and spread outward until even breathing felt like work.
He lay there for a long moment, face half-buried in his pillow, staring blankly at the wall and trying very hard to justify never moving again.
It was tempting.
The blankets were warm. His room was quiet. His body ached in that dull, all-encompassing way that came after a long night of patrol—muscles sore, core low, mind scraped hollow by too much adrenaline and not enough rest. Every part of him felt overused. Even his eyelids were heavy enough to sting.
He could still feel phantom bruises under his skin.
A lingering ache in his shoulder from where a ghost had slammed him through the side of a billboard at two in the morning. The faint burn in his palms from overusing ectoblasts. The sharp, familiar throb at the base of his spine that always showed up after too much flying and too many hard landings.
He didn’t want to move.
Didn’t want to think.
Didn’t want to do anything except sink back into the mattress and stay there long enough for the world to forget he existed.
Sleep forever.
The thought came and went with all the weightless ease of habit.
Not in a dramatic way. Not even in a particularly upsetting one. Just quiet. Casual. The kind of thought that had stopped sounding alarming in his own head a long time ago.
Sleep forever. No alarms. No portals. No screaming ghosts clawing at his window at three in the morning. No homework. No school. No fighting. No expectations. No constant, grinding need to keep moving.
Just rest.
A real one.
The knock on his door came before the thought could settle.
Three short taps. Familiar. Measured.
“Danny?”
Jazz.
He shut his eyes harder for half a second, as if that might somehow rewind time enough to spare him from consciousness.
“Food’s almost ready.”
There was a pause.
Then, gentler, “You need to get up.”
Danny exhaled slowly into the pillow and considered pretending to be dead.
Technically speaking, it wasn’t even a lie.
Instead, he peeled one eye open and stared at the clock.
7:02 AM.
Cruel. Unnatural. Morally offensive.
“Danny.”
“I’m awake,” he croaked, voice rough enough to sound like he’d been chewing gravel in his sleep.
A beat of silence.
“Your voice sounds terrible.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Get up.”
Her footsteps retreated down the hall.
Danny lay there for another ten seconds in silent protest before dragging himself upright with all the grace and enthusiasm of a reanimated corpse.
Everything hurt.
Not enough to matter. Not enough to stop him. Just enough to make existing feel inconvenient.
He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, elbows on his knees, waiting for the room to stop tilting. His core gave a slow, unhappy pulse low in his chest—cold and sluggish and distinctly unimpressed with the concept of being awake.
“Same,” Danny muttered to it.
Getting ready for school was muscle memory more than conscious thought.
He moved through it on autopilot—uniform motions repeated often enough to stop requiring active thought. Bathroom. Sink. Toothbrush. Water too cold against his face. Hoodie. Jeans. Backpack.
He stared at himself in the mirror for half a second too long while brushing his teeth.
Pale.
More than usual.
There were faint shadows under his eyes, dark enough to stand out against skin that already ran too cool and too light. He looked tired. Hollowed out around the edges. Too sharp in places that should’ve looked softer at sixteen.
Dead on his feet.
Fitting.
A flash of what should be there according to his true form. Then back to his ‘Human’ face. The uneven proportions of his face. The odd tilt of his shoulders hunching inwards to hide their too wide proportions. The point of his teeth. The bloodshot sceleras. The dark freckles on his nose and cheeks making it look like dirt…
He hated it.
He spat, rinsed, and looked away.
By the time he made it downstairs, the house smelled like breakfast.
Or, more accurately, like Jazz’s attempt to force normalcy into a deeply abnormal household.
The kitchen was already warm. Jazz stood at the stove in herusual outfit labled as school clothes, one hand still on the pan while the other adjusted the heat with the casual efficiency of someone who’d done this too many times to think about it. She had one of her textbooks open on the counter beside her, a highlighter tucked into the spine, and was somehow reading while cooking with the kind of multitasking precision that made Danny tired just looking at her.
A plate was set down in front of him the moment he sat.
Eggs. Bacon. Sausage.
Simple. Fast. Manageable.
“Eat,” Jazz said, already turning back toward the stove.
Danny stared at the plate for a second, then at her.
“You’re a tyrant.”
“Yes,” she said easily. “And yet I’m still feeding you.”
That was the thing about mornings in the Fenton house.
Jazz cooked.
Not because she particularly wanted to, and definitely not because either of their parents had ever asked her to, but because if she didn’t, nobody would eat anything remotely safe before noon.
Their parents were many things. Brilliant, obsessive, deeply concerning, arguably criminal in at least six categories—
Domestic was not one of them.
The kitchen was less a functional family space and more a war zone with cupboards.
Anything in the fridge was a gamble.
Jazz did her best, but there was only so much she could do when their parents kept putting contaminated samples next to actual groceries like that was a normal thing people did. Ecto-sludge in unmarked jars. Half-finished thermoses of glowing green residue. Spectral compounds in Tupperware containers that should, by all rights, have been holding leftovers.
The milk had been haunted twice.
The orange juice had once hissed when opened.
Danny still didn’t know what had happened to the butter, and he had no desire to find out.
Jazz had adapted accordingly.
Everything was checked. Everything was cleaned. Everything was cooked with the kind of ruthless caution usually reserved for bomb disposal.
She was good at it, too. Annoyingly so.
Not that she had much room for creativity when she was limited by time, contamination risk, and whatever ingredients hadn’t been rendered mildly radioactive by proximity.
Still.
She made it work.
Danny picked up his fork.
Paused.
Something on his plate twitched.
He stared at the sausages.
One of them gave a small, deeply offensive wriggle.
Danny did not react with surprise.
He reacted with speed.
His hand moved automatically, years of reflex overriding conscious thought as he dropped the fork, grabbed the knife, and stabbed both sausages clean through before they could make a second attempt at sentience.
One bite later, he was halfway through one of them, still impaled on the knife.
Jazz glanced over just in time to watch him do it.
There was a pause.
Then, flatly, “Was that necessary?”
Danny swallowed. “It moved.”
“That does not answer my question.”
“It was thinking about escaping.”
Jazz looked at the sausage. Looked at him. Then sighed the long-suffering sigh of someone too tired to unpack any part of what she’d just witnessed.
“Fair.”
Danny took another bite, still holding the knife.
Across the room, the toaster rattled ominously.
Neither of them looked at it.
After a moment, Jazz slid into the chair across from him with her own plate and a mug of coffee that smelled strong enough to wake the dead.
Which, admittedly, in this house, was less metaphor than usual.
For a little while, they ate in relative silence.
It wasn’t awkward.
It never really was.
Just quiet in the way mornings tended to be—Jazz reviewing mental lists and half her coursework before eight in the morning, Danny trying to become human enough to survive public education.
The house creaked around them.
Somewhere in the basement, something exploded.
Neither of them reacted.
A beat later came their father’s muffled shout, followed by their mother yelling something that sounded vaguely like “hand me the ecto-filter.”
Jazz took a sip of coffee.
Danny ate another bite of murdered sausage.
Normal.
God, he was tired.
Danny didn’t register that Jazz was talking at first.
Not because he was ignoring her. Not intentionally.
His brain was just moving slower than the rest of him this morning, dulled down to something blunt and heavy, every thought delayed behind a thick layer of exhaustion that made processing feel less like thinking and more like wading through sludge.
So he stabbed one of the sausages again instead.
The tines of the fork sat abandoned beside his plate, ignored in favour of the knife currently speared through the last twitching bit of breakfast. He took another bite without much thought, chewing mechanically as Jazz’s voice filled the kitchen in a soft, steady rhythm he only half heard.
It blurred together at first. Background noise. Familiar. Safe enough to let slide past him while his brain focused on simpler things.
Chew. Swallow. Breathe.
Don’t let the sausage move again.
By the time he’d finished the last bite and shifted to impaling a portion of eggs with the knife next, his mind had finally started catching up enough to separate sound into words.
“—so Wednesday I’ll be late getting home because I have lab, and Thursday I’ve got a guidance meeting after school, which means if you need a ride you’ll have to wait until four-thirty.”
Danny blinked down at his plate.
Right.
Jazz was talking.
He dragged the eggs through a smear of yolk and lifted them to his mouth while she set a glass of orange juice down beside his plate with quiet precision.
Distraction, some detached part of him noted.
She was doing it on purpose.
The orange juice. The schedule rundown. The calm, even tone.
Something to keep him grounded. Something easy to focus on.
Danny didn’t comment on it. Just took the glass and drank from it because she’d put it there and because the acidity helped cut through some of the lingering fog in his skull.
Jazz leaned against the counter, her own breakfast mostly ignored in favour of the coffee she’d been nursing between sentences.
“Friday’s probably the worst of it,” she continued. “You’ve got that English quiz first period, Sam said Tucker was trying to convince Lancer to push the history test to next week, and I have that college prep meeting after lunch.”
Danny made a vague noise around another bite of eggs to signal he was listening.
Mostly.
“Saturday I’m taking the car in because the brakes are making that noise again.”
That got slightly more of his attention.
He frowned. “The screaming one?”
Jazz grimaced. “The screaming one.”
“Cool.”
“Not cool.”
He shrugged, took another bite, and she sighed into her coffee.
It was normal.
This was normal.
Jazz talking. Danny half-listening. Breakfast in the kitchen while the house creaked around them and the morning dragged itself awake.
Normal enough that the silence, when it came, was immediate and wrong.
Jazz cut off mid-sentence.
Danny froze with his knife halfway to his mouth.
There was a beat of stillness.
Then—
The metallic groan of the basement door opening.
Every muscle in Danny’s body locked.
The sound rang through the kitchen like a trigger pulled.
Heavy metal scraping against concrete. Hinges protesting. The familiar echo of the lab door dragging open beneath the floor.
Then voices.
Too loud.
Too close.
Animated and bright and grating in the way only they could be this early in the morning.
“—I’m telling you, Maddie, if we increase the voltage output and reverse the polarity of the condenser—”
“Jack, the last time you reversed the polarity you blew out half the lab!”
“That was one time!”
“It was three!”
Their voices grew louder as they climbed the stairs, still talking over each other with the kind of thoughtless enthusiasm that made Danny’s spine go rigid.
He stared at his plate.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Across from him, Jazz had gone equally still.
Not visibly tense.
That would imply reaction.
No, she’d gone quiet in the way she always did around them—controlled and contained and carefully blank, all the warmth from a moment ago shuttered away behind practiced neutrality.
Danny hated how familiar that expression was.
Their parents entered the kitchen still mid-conversation, all movement and noise and oblivious energy.
Jack crossed straight to the fridge.
Maddie was already rummaging through a cabinet.
Neither of them looked at the table.
Neither acknowledged the two people sitting less than ten feet away.
Danny watched Jack pull the fridge open and start shoving a thermos of glowing green ectoplasm onto the shelf beside the orange juice.
His jaw tightened.
Maddie set down three unlabeled vials of something neon blue on the counter next to the toaster.
Jazz’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around her coffee mug. He slightly registered the lack of movement in her shoulders or her chest that would normally indicate breathing. Who could he fault (Himself) she was like him now, so she didn’t always need to breathe, just like him…
“—if we can stabilize the ecto-signature long enough to isolate the spectral residue—”
“Then we’ll finally have a reliable dissection model!”
Jack laughed, already digging through the pantry for something processed and shelf-stable enough to qualify as breakfast.
Danny stared at the plate in front of him and felt something cold settle behind his ribs.
Not fear.
Not really.
Just that same old, familiar numbness.
The strange dissociative distance that always set in when Jack and Maddie entered a room and somehow made it feel smaller while never actually noticing the people in it.
His eyes tracked absently as Jack grabbed two packaged snack cakes and tore one open with all the force of a man trying to dismember it.
Maddie poured herself coffee from the pot on the counter.
Neither of them said good morning.
Neither of them asked about school.
Neither of them acknowledged Jazz standing three feet away.
They just kept talking.
Over each other. Around each other. Through the room like Danny and Jazz were furniture.
“…might need more vivisection pins.”
“Check the lower cabinet.”
“We’re out.”
“Then write it on the list.”
Danny took another bite of eggs because the alternative was letting himself think too hard about the fact that Jack had just put ectoplasm next to the orange juice again.
He chewed.
Swallowed.
Listened to them move around the kitchen like intruders in a space they technically owned.
He didn’t even consciously register the thought when it surfaced.
Jack and Maddie.
Not Mom and Dad.
Just names.
Detached. Clinical. Impersonal.
He didn’t notice the shift.
Didn’t notice how easy it had become.
A few more minutes passed like that.
Jack inhaled one of the snack cakes.
Maddie drained half her coffee.
They kept talking the whole time, rapid-fire theories and half-finished sentences and absent motions as they gathered whatever they needed for the next round of lab work.
Then, just as abruptly as they’d arrived, they were moving again.
Back toward the basement.
Still talking.
Still not looking.
The metal door opened.
Closed.
The sound echoed through the kitchen with a final heavy clang.
Silence dropped over the room.
Danny exhaled.
Sharp and quiet.
The same followed from where Jazz stood.
Short and harsh.
He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath.
Across from him, Jazz was still staring at her coffee.
Her expression hadn’t changed.
But something in her shoulders had gone tight.
Danny looked away first.
He finished the rest of his eggs in three quick bites and chased them with orange juice because it gave him something to do with his hands.
Jazz stayed quiet.
Too quiet.
He stood, took his plate to the dishwasher, and was halfway through sliding it into place when he heard her murmur something under her breath.
He only caught part of it.
“…pulled another all-nighter.”
Danny paused.
His gaze flicked to the counter.
To the coffee pot.
Half-empty.
Two extra mugs in the sink.
Still warm.
Right.
That explained the volume.
The manic energy.
The complete lack of awareness somehow made worse by sleep deprivation and caffeine.
His mouth flattened.
Of course they had.
Of course.
Danny turned away before he could think too hard about it and moved toward the front door, crouching to yank on his shoes with practiced speed.
Routine.
Bag by the stairs.
Shoes on.
Leave before the house could become unbearable again.
Behind him, Jazz set her mug down.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, voice carefully even. “I just need to grab something from my room.”
Danny glanced up just long enough to see her heading for the stairs.
The second she disappeared, his eyes cut back to the kitchen.
To the coffee pot.
Still half-full.
Still hot.
He stared at it for exactly one second.
Then moved.
Quick and silent, Danny crossed the kitchen, grabbed the pot, and drank straight from it.
The coffee was still hot enough to burn.
He barely noticed.
His core welcomed the burn.
Bitter. Acrid. Strong enough to make his teeth ache.
He swallowed anyway. Then again. Then kept going until the pot was nearly empty and his pulse felt just a little less sluggish beneath his skin.
By the time he set it back in place, only a shallow layer remained.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, stepped back to his original spot by the front door, and adjusted his expression into something neutral just as Jazz came back downstairs.
She paused.
Looked at the coffee pot.
Looked at him.
Danny stared back, face blank.
Jazz narrowed her eyes.
Sighed.
Didn’t comment.
Instead she twirled her keys once around her finger and grabbed her bag.
“Ready?”
Danny slung his backpack over one shoulder.
“Yep.”
Jazz opened the front door.
Cold morning air hit him like a reset button.
Sharp and clean and infinitely easier to breathe than the kitchen had been.
Danny stepped outside without hesitation.
Jazz locked the door behind them, the click of it sealing shut something in his chest he didn’t have words for.
He moved for the car immediately.
Passenger side. Same as always.
Bag dropped at his feet, body folding into the seat with the kind of practiced motion that came from years of repetition.
By the time Jazz slid into the driver’s seat, Danny already had his head tipped back against the window.
Eyes half-lidded.
The coffee was beginning to hit his bloodstream.
But not enough to wake him up.
Just enough to make the exhaustion sharper around the edges.
Jazz started the car.
The engine rumbled to life beneath them.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Jazz pulled out of the driveway and said, quieter this time, “You slept at all?”
Danny watched the neighborhood slide past through the glass.
“Like twenty minutes.”
Jazz winced.
“Danny.”
He shrugged one shoulder.
Didn’t look at her.
There wasn’t much to say to that.
Because what was the point?
Yes, he’d been out all night.
Yes, the ghost attacks had escalated again.
Yes, he was exhausted enough that his bones felt full of wet cement and his thoughts were lagging just enough to make everything feel unreal around the edges.
And yes, he was still expected to go sit through seven hours of school like a functioning person.
Normal.
Everything was normal.
Danny closed his eyes and let the motion of the car rock against his skull.
Beside him, Jazz tightened her grip on the wheel.
The silence that followed wasn’t comfortable.
But it was familiar.
And for now, that was close enough.
Till the silence was only a suggestion.
“I’ve been thinking…”
Jazz’s voice cut through the quiet just enough to drag Danny’s attention away from the blur of passing houses outside his window.
He turned his head slightly, blinking at her through the fog of lingering exhaustion.
That sentence alone was enough to make him wary.
Not because Jazz thinking was a bad thing.
Jazz thinking was usually a very good thing.
The problem was that when she used that specific tone—careful, measured, deliberate—it usually meant she’d already thought something through six different ways and had arrived at a conclusion she intended to see through no matter what anyone else thought about it.
Danny knew that tone.
He’d learned to fear it.
He made a low noise in the back of his throat. “That’s ominous.”
Jazz huffed a quiet laugh, eyes still on the road. “Probably.”
Danny let his head tip a little more toward her, waiting.
She was quiet for another second, fingers shifting slightly on the steering wheel.
Then—
“I’m changing.”
Danny frowned.
That got more of his attention.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at her properly now, his sleep-blunted brain taking a second longer than usual to catch up.
Jazz noticed.
“I don’t mean emotionally,” she said dryly. “Though, arguably, yes. I mean biologically.”
Danny stilled.
The last traces of exhaustion dulled around the edges, not gone, but shoved aside by something sharper.
“Oh.”
Jazz glanced at him briefly, then back to the road.
“Yeah. Oh.”
He sat up a little straighter.
Not enough to look alarmed.
Enough to show he was listening now.
Jazz let out a slow breath through her nose.
“I know Frostbite already went over most of it. I know Pandora did too. And I know we’ve already established that whatever this is, it’s happening slower for me than it did for you.” Her mouth pulled faintly to one side. “Which I’m still considering a win, by the way.”
Danny snorted despite himself.
She continued.
“But it’s still happening.”
Her fingers tapped once against the wheel.
“I’m changing. Adapting. Learning. Whatever term we’re using for it this week.”
Danny watched her profile, silent.
Jazz’s voice stayed even. Casual enough to pass for conversation.
But he knew her too well not to hear what sat underneath it.
Thought. Planning. Careful intent.
“I’m not human in the same way I was six months ago,” she said. “And pretending otherwise would be stupid. M’Sure you can understand.”
Danny’s shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly.
He already knew where this was going.
He just didn’t want to hear her say it.
Jazz, unfortunately, noticed everything.
“So,” she said lightly, “I had an idea.”
Danny groaned immediately.
She ignored him.
“I can help you.”
He closed his eyes.
There it was.
Of course there it was.
Danny tipped his head back against the seat and exhaled through his nose. “Jazz—”
“No, hear me out.”
He opened one eye and gave her a flat look.
“You say that like that’s ever stopped you.”
Jazz smiled, brief and sharp. “Because it hasn’t.”
“Right.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Her grip shifted on the wheel again.
“I know.”
That, more than anything, made him go quiet.
Because she did know.
Jazz knew exactly what he was objecting to before he’d even said it.
Knew why he’d object.
Knew why that knot of cold dread had already started curling in his chest.
She kept talking anyway.
“I’m already training.”
Danny didn’t answer.
“Objectively,” Jazz continued, “I am already learning how to use my core, how to regulate it, how to defend myself, and how not to accidentally set something on fire when I get irritated.”
“You say that like that’s reassuring.”
“It should be.”
“It’s not.”
Jazz ignored that too.
“I’m learning how to fight. I’m learning control. I’m learning how to exist in all of this without becoming a liability to myself or anyone around me.”
Danny’s jaw tightened.
There it was.
That word.
Liability.
Jazz continued before he could say anything.
“So the obvious practical application is helping you.”
Danny let out a tired, disbelieving laugh. “Jazz—”
“No.”
Her tone sharpened just enough to cut him off.
Danny went still.
Jazz kept her eyes on the road, expression calm.
“You don’t get to dismiss this before I finish.”
He stared at her.
She kept going.
“You patrol alone. You get hurt alone. You handle everything alone, and half the reason you’re this exhausted all the time is because you’ve decided the burden of keeping literally everyone safe is somehow yours by default.”
Danny looked away.
“That is not—”
“It is,” Jazz cut in. “And you know it is.”
His mouth flattened.
The car hummed quietly around them.
Outside, the town kept moving.
Inside, Danny could feel the shape of the conversation turning against him in real time.
Jazz’s voice softened, but only slightly.
“I can help you.”
Danny stared out the window.
“I know what I’m doing enough not to be dead weight.”
He flinched before he could stop himself.
Jazz noticed. Of course she did.
Her voice gentled further.
“I’m not saying I’d do it alone.”
Danny said nothing.
“I’m saying I can help you occasionally. Not every patrol. Not every fight. But enough.”
Still nothing.
Jazz sighed.
“Danny.”
He shut his eyes.
“Danny, you cannot stop me from helping if I decide to.”
His eyes opened again.
That got his attention.
Jazz’s expression stayed infuriatingly calm.
“I’m telling you this now as a courtesy.”
Danny stared at her in disbelief. “A courtesy.”
“Yes.”
“That is a threat.”
“It is an informed warning.”
“That is still a threat.”
Jazz smiled slightly. “Semantics.”
Danny made a strangled noise somewhere between offense and disbelief.
She continued, entirely unbothered.
“You can say no if you want.”
His shoulders drew tight.
“But if you do,” Jazz said, “the only thing that changes is whether I do it with your supervision or behind your back.”
Danny turned fully toward her now.
“Jazz.”
“No, think about it.”
“I am thinking about it.”
“Then think harder.”
Danny made a frustrated sound.
Jazz kept going.
“I am helping either way. The only variable here is whether you’re involved enough to make sure I know what I’m doing and stay safe doing it.”
Danny stared at her.
She had the audacity to sound reasonable.
That was the worst part.
Because she was.
Objectively.
Logically.
Painfully.
Reasonable.
And he hated that.
Hated how quickly his brain had already started trying to calculate the practicalities instead of dismissing it outright.
Hated that part of him had already known this was coming eventually.
Hated that the idea of her out there at all made something in him go cold with fear.
Hated, too, the quiet treacherous relief beneath that fear.
Help.
Backup.
Someone else there.
Someone he trusted.
Someone capable.
Danny looked away again, jaw clenched hard enough to ache.
He thought of Jazz in the Ghost Zone.
Of her adapting too fast.
Learning too fast.
Of the ease with which she’d taken to things that had broken him open and rebuilt him raw.
He thought of her flames.
Her control.
Her stubbornness.
He thought of trying to stop her.
And knew exactly how well that would go.
Poorly.
At best.
Danny exhaled slowly through his nose.
“I hate this idea.”
Jazz’s mouth twitched. “I know.”
“I hate that you’re making valid points.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
He shot her a look.
She smiled, quick and unapologetic.
Danny dragged a hand down his face.
He was so tired.
Too tired for this.
Too tired to keep pretending this was an argument he could win.
Too tired not to recognize that she’d already made her decision before opening her mouth.
This was not Jazz asking permission.
It was Jazz offering him terms.
He hated that too.
Danny sat in silence long enough that Jazz’s fingers tightened once against the steering wheel.
Then—
“…Occasionally.”
Jazz went very still.
Danny kept staring out the window.
“Occasionally,” he repeated, voice flat. “And only if I’m there.”
Jazz didn’t interrupt.
“Only if you listen.”
A pause.
“Only if you do exactly what I tell you when I tell you to do it.”
Another pause.
Then, carefully—
“Danny—”
“No.” He turned to look at her properly now, exhaustion stripped back just enough to show the sharp edge beneath. “If you do this, you do not freelance, you do not improvise, and you do not play martyr because you think proving a point is worth getting hurt. I’ll listen to any ideas you have, because frankly, you get great ideas.”
Jazz’s expression shifted.
Something brighter. Softer.
Hopeful enough it almost hurt to look at.
Danny pressed on before he could think too hard about that.
“You stay where I can see you.”
Jazz nodded once immediately.
“You do not go out alone.”
Another nod.
“You do not do anything reckless.”
That earned him a look.
Danny deadpanned. “By your standards.”
She huffed a laugh. “That’s fair.”
“And if I tell you to leave, you leave.”
Jazz hesitated.
Danny’s stare sharpened.
She sighed. “Fine.”
“Immediately.”
“Yes, Danny.”
He held her gaze another second.
Then leaned back in his seat.
“Then fine.”
The effect was immediate.
Jazz lit up.
Not literally, thank God.
But the expression that crossed her face came dangerously close.
Relief. Delight. Vindication.
A kind of sharp, quiet triumph she tried and failed to hide.
Danny watched it happen and felt something in his chest twist in that unpleasant way emotions tended to when they refused to settle into one clean shape.
Because there was fear there.
A lot of it.
Protective, cold, immediate fear curling hard around his ribs at the thought of her in actual combat.
But beneath it—
Relief.
Thin and guilty and real.
He hated that too.
Jazz caught him looking and smiled, small and bright and entirely too pleased with herself.
“Thank you.”
Danny scowled automatically. “Don’t thank me like I did this willingly.”
“You agreed.”
“I was cornered.”
“You were presented with logic.”
“I was threatened.”
Jazz grinned. “And yet.”
Danny made a low, annoyed sound and turned back toward the window.
Beside him, Jazz’s smile lingered.
The conversation tapered off after that.
Not awkward.
Not quite comfortable.
Just… settled.
The kind of silence that came after something had shifted and both of them were still quietly adjusting to the new shape of it.
Danny let his head rest back against the seat again.
Outside, Amity Park passed in familiar stretches of quiet suburb and cracked pavement.
Inside, the car hummed steadily around them.
The coffee was finally starting to do its job.
Not much.
But enough.
The edges of the world felt marginally less muffled now. His thoughts a little less sluggish. The bone-deep exhaustion still sat heavy under his skin, but it had dulled from all-consuming to merely constant.
Beside him, Jazz drove with one hand loose on the wheel, the other resting near the gearshift.
Danny glanced at her once.
At the faint satisfaction she still hadn’t entirely managed to school out of her expression.
He sighed.
“You’re insufferable.”
Jazz’s smile sharpened. “And right.”
“That remains to be seen.”
She laughed quietly. “Who’s the older sibling here?”
Danny looked away before the sound could settle somewhere too warm in his chest.
The silence returned.
This time easier.
By the time the car began slowing, Danny had drifted just enough to nearly doze off sitting upright.
The subtle shift in motion pulled him back before sleep could properly take him.
He blinked, sat up, and looked out the windshield.
Casper High stood ahead of them in all its looming brick-and-concrete monotony.
Grey. Familiar. Uninspired.
The parking lot was already half full.
Danny stared at it for a long second.
School.
Right.
He’d almost forgotten.
The car rolled into a space and stopped.
The engine idled for half a beat before Jazz killed it.
Silence.
Then the click of seatbelts.
Danny unbuckled first, the motion automatic.
Beside him, Jazz did the same.
For one brief second neither of them moved.
Then Jazz glanced at him.
Danny glanced back.
Neither said anything.
Nothing really needed saying.
Jazz reached for her bag.
Danny grabbed his.
They stepped out into the cold morning air together.
Jazz and Danny split at the front steps with the kind of ease that came from years of routine.
No ceremony. No dramatic farewell. Just the quiet, practiced divergence of two people who had done this often enough that it barely needed acknowledging.
Jazz adjusted the strap of her bag, gave him one last look—the kind that said eat something at lunch and don’t fall asleep in class without actually saying it—and turned toward the upperclassman wing.
Danny watched her go for half a second.
Then spotted Tucker’s hat and Sam’s black coat near the front doors and redirected automatically.
Tucker saw him first.
“Dude,” Tucker said, narrowing his eyes as Danny approached. “You look like roadkill.”
Danny kept walking. “Good morning to you too.”
Sam looked him over once, gaze sharp and unimpressed in the way only Sam could manage before nine in the morning.
“You look awful.”
Danny gave her a flat stare. “I’m noticing a theme.”
Tucker fell into step beside him as the three of them headed inside with the slow-moving tide of students filtering through the main entrance.
“To be fair,” Tucker said, “it’s not exactly a subtle look. You’ve got the whole haunted Victorian orphan thing going on, but like… worse.”
Danny deadpanned. “You say the sweetest things.”
Sam’s eyes flicked over him again, catching the slight drag in his steps, the faint tension in his shoulders, the way his expression kept threatening to flatten into blankness whenever he wasn’t actively forcing it into something more alert.
“You sleep at all?”
Danny shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking.
“Some.”
Tucker made a face. “That is not a number.”
“It’s enough of one.”
“It’s really not.”
Danny shrugged one shoulder, already steering the conversation elsewhere before either of them could dig in.
“What’d I miss in first period.”
Tucker narrowed his eyes at the blatant deflection.
Then, because this was neither new nor worth derailing the morning over, he let it go with only minimal judgment.
“Lancer threatened Chad with detention before homeroom even started.”
Danny nodded solemnly. “A strong start.”
“He deserved it,” Sam said.
“He usually does.”
That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth, and the conversation shifted into easier things after that—half-idle chatter, the kind that required very little of him beyond occasional responses and just enough presence to keep suspicion off him.
Danny let them carry most of it.
He was good at that.
Had gotten good at it.
Nodding in the right places. Timing responses well enough to seem engaged. Smiling just enough to sell awake.
He could do this.
He’d done worse on less sleep.
School passed the way it usually did—slowly, painfully, and with all the grace of a root canal.
Danny drifted through it on habit and caffeine.
First period was English, where Mr. Lancer gave a lecture Danny only half absorbed while he tried not to let his eyes drift shut every time the room went still for too long.
Second period was history, where Tucker passed him a note that simply read if you die in class can I have your phone and Danny had stared at it for a full ten seconds before writing only if Sam gets first pick and passing it back.
Third period Dash shoulder-checked him into a locker hard enough to bruise.
“Watch it, Fenton.”
Danny bit back the automatic response and forced himself not to react beyond a tired glare.
Dash grinned like he’d won something and kept moving.
Paulina laughed.
Danny kept walking.
By lunch, Wes had cornered him near the vending machines to whisper—loudly, and with all the subtlety of a brick—that he had proof Phantom and Fenton were linked by “suspiciously consistent disappearance patterns.”
Danny had stared at him for three full seconds and said, “Wes, I’m begging you to discover a hobby.”
Wes had narrowed his eyes like that was exactly what Phantom would say.
Danny left before the conversation could become more painful.
The day dragged.
Then dragged more.
By the final bell, Danny felt like something held together with string and bad decisions.
possible mild ideas of harm and/or body dysmorphia so sensitive readers be warned
The fly through the realms was like any other. Like a casual stroke in the park.
Distant whale-like noises echoed from the distance. “Uh, Danny?”
“Mhm?”
“What was that noise?" Jazz asked. She was clearly uneasy, deciding between if it was a dangerous sound or a friendly whale sound.
Danny glanced back at her, raising an eyebrow not understanding what she was on about. But then it clicked like the flip of a light switch. “Oh. That's just a ghost call. Probably a water core ghost.”
“Oh okay. But how can you be so sure about the core?” jazz asked no more intrigued.
Jazz was beginning to realize something interesting about ghost cores.
It wasn’t something Danny had explained in detail yet — mostly because Danny tended to explain things the way someone explained a story they had lived through rather than a subject they had studied. Half experience, half guesswork.
Still, from what she had gathered so far, cores seemed to have… themes.
Not intentionally chosen ones. Not even necessarily obvious ones. But they existed.
Danny had been the one to mention it first, almost casually.
“Cores tend to hold a theme unintentionally,” he had said while flying ahead of her, his tail flicking slightly in the air as he guided them between two floating islands. “Like me for example. I have an ice core. I’m naturally cold and pale in my features — minus the skin tone — and sometimes you can hear weird ice-like sounds from me.”
Jazz had blinked at him when he said that.
“At least that’s what Sam tells me,” he added with a shrug.
Jazz took a moment to process that information while gliding beside him through the glowing green expanse of the Ghost Zone.
And yeah.
He had a point.
Danny’s presence did have a sort of cold clarity to it. The air around him carried a faint chill, barely noticeable unless someone paid attention. And occasionally — very faintly — there was a soft sound like icicles shifting in a wind chime.
She hadn’t realized that wasn’t normal.
“That’s weirdly cool,” she admitted.
Danny turned his head toward her with a grin that showed a hint too many sharp teeth to be entirely human.
“Yeah, I thought so too.”
Jazz rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t deny the curiosity bubbling in her chest.
The Ghost Zone itself certainly didn’t help with that curiosity.
Danny took his time showing her around. He clearly knew the area well — or at least knew which parts were safe enough to fly through without worrying too much about unexpected surprises.
Danny took his time showing jazz around. Occasionally stopping by a few islands. “Dont step on this one it looks friendly with all the lovely baby pinks and blues, but it's not. Don't trust it.”
Every so often he would slow down, hovering beside a floating island as if considering whether it was worth stopping.
Sometimes they landed.
Sometimes they didn’t.
“Don’t step on this one,” Danny said at one point, hovering above a floating island covered in baby blue and lavender moss. The surface looked almost fluffy.
Jazz tilted her head.
“It looks friendly.”
Danny immediately shook his head.
“Exactly why you shouldn’t trust it.”
She snorted.
“Good to know.”
They continued flying after that, weaving between floating rocks, drifting structures, and the occasional wandering ghost that passed by with little more than a glance.
Eventually Danny guided her down toward a much larger island cluster.
Jazz noticed it before they even landed.
When her feet touched the surface, the ground beneath them hummed.
Not loudly.
Just a low vibration, like distant music traveling through the earth.
She stilled.
The hum synced with the warmth in her chest. Her core.
At least that was what she had started calling it.
The warmth pulsed once. Then again. The ground hummed with it.
Jazz blinked.
“…Danny?”
He glanced back at her.
“What’s up?”
“The ground is humming.”
Danny looked down briefly, then shrugged.
“Oh yeah. That happens here.”
That was the entirety of his explanation.
Jazz stared at him.
“You’re not going to elaborate on that?”
He shrugged again.
“It’s a ghost market island. They tend to have weird ambient stuff going on.”
Jazz was starting to realize Danny had developed an extremely casual attitude toward things that were objectively bizarre. Desensitized her mind supplied.
The island itself was fascinating.
The market stretched across the surface in clusters of strange stalls and floating structures. Ghosts moved between them in a slow, drifting rhythm.
Some looked vaguely human.
Others looked… significantly less human. Most likely the Non human ghosts Danny had once mentioned in passing. A few didn’t look humanoid at all.
Jazz found herself staring at everything.
Danny, meanwhile, seemed far more interested in observing her. He noticed things. Small things.
Like the way the flames in her hair changed when she focused on something interesting. The fire pulled inward, tightening closer to her scalp as if concentrating with her. Like it was self compressing to conserve energy.
Her footsteps left faint warm marks on the ground. They faded almost instantly, but they were there. The air around her shimmered slightly with heat — not enough to burn Danny, but enough that the air rippled when she stood still.
And whenever they flew close together, their temperatures mixed.
Warm met cold. For a moment, faint fog curled between them. Then it faded. But it felt calming that brief contact of the different temperatures.
Jazz had no idea Danny noticed any of that. She was too busy staring at everything else.
One particular stall caught her attention — a ghost sitting behind a floating table covered in glowing stones.
A sign above it read:
FORTUNE TELLING
The ghost peered at Jazz as she approached.
Then immediately recoiled.
“Too bright.”
Jazz blinked. “Excuse me?”
The ghost waved a hand dramatically. “Your fire is blinding. Turn it down.”
Jazz glanced at Danny. He snorted.
“Yeah, that’s fair.”
Jazz frowned in concentration. Her hair flared briefly. Then slowly dimmed. Like someone turning off an old, delayed light bulb.
The ghost squinted at her again. “…better.”
Jazz straightened slightly, pleased with herself.
Danny noticed the pride immediately.
And he was proud of her too.
Even if a quiet, traitorous part of him whispered how easily she seemed to adapt to things that had taken him months — or years — to figure out.
He ignored that voice.
Instead he smiled. “See? Natural talent.”
Jazz smirked. “Of course.”
Eventually they left the market island and returned to flying. They had explored quite a bit already, and Danny seemed more confident now that she had gotten a feel for the environment.
So he picked up speed.
The wind rushed past them as the green expanse of the Ghost Zone stretched endlessly around them.
“Danny!” Her voice carried through the air.
“Yeah?”
“Were you scared? Your first time here?”
Danny slowed slightly.
“Scared?”
“You know,” Jazz continued. “When you first came here.”
He considered the question. Then answered honestly. “Terrified.”
She glanced at him. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he said casually. “Still am sometimes.”
That answer surprised her. “But you handle it pretty well.”
Danny shrugged mid-flight.
“You get used to things.” Desensitized.
They passed another floating island. Danny pointed. “See that one?”
Jazz nodded. “Don’t step on it. It screams.”
She paused. “…what?”
“You heard me.”
They flew past a lone floating door a few minutes later.
Danny immediately looked away. “If you see a door floating by itself like that?”
“Yeah?”
“No you didn’t.”
Jazz opened her mouth. Then closed it again.
She was beginning to suspect Danny had developed a very specific set of survival rules. A few minutes later he pointed toward a cluster of strange plants. “That one laughs when you get hurt.”
“…why?”
Danny shrugged.
“Ghost plant.”
Another island drifted nearby, covered in round, gelatinous creatures.
“Those are blob ghost colonies,” Danny explained. “Avoid landing on those islands if possible.”
“Why?”
“They try to hug you.”
Jazz frowned.
“That doesn’t sound dangerous.”
“They hug everything. And they don’t let go easily.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
The scenery slowly began to change as they continued flying. At first Jazz didn’t notice it. But gradually the color palette around them shifted. The bright neon greens faded into cooler tones. Teal replaced emerald.
The air itself seemed calmer somehow. Jazz looked around.
“Danny?”
“Hmm?”
“Why did the sky change?”
Danny smirked slightly.
“Welcome to the Far Frozen.” Jazz blinked.
“We’re already here?”
“The outer edge,” he clarified.
“But the sky’s teal now.”
“Yeah,” Danny said. “Different areas of the Ghost Zone tend to shift their color palette.”
“Why?”
Danny hesitated. “…no idea.”
She gave him a look. “That’s very scientific.”
“I never said it was.”
As they continued forward, small clusters of icy rocks began appearing in the distance.
Then more.
The air grew quieter.
Then Jazz heard it.
Soft, delicate sounds drifting through the air.
Her eyes widened.
“Danny!”
“What?”
“I hear wind chimes!”
Danny chuckled.
“Yeah, that’s normal here.”
“Normal?”
“Some islands develop ambient sounds.”
“That’s incredible.”
Soon the massive icy islands of the Far Frozen came fully into view.
Danny slowed their flight and gently lowered them toward the snowy surface.
Jazz expected the ground to be freezing.
It wasn’t.
She stared at the snow beneath her feet.
“…it’s not cold.”
Danny landed beside her.
“Yeah.”
“How?”
“You have a fire core,” he reminded her. “And you’re not standing here as a human.”
Jazz nodded slowly.
Then pointed at him.
“What about you?”
“I’ve got an ice core,” he said.
“Oh.”
“So temperatures don’t really bother me.”
She thought about that.
Then frowned.
“Then why do I feel… comfortable?”
Danny hesitated slightly.
“Fire doesn’t necessarily get weaker in cold environments here.”
“That sounds suspiciously vague.”
Danny grinned.
“I’m leaving that explanation to Frostbite.”
Jazz nodded thoughtfully.
“Fair.”
Danny turned toward the distant ice structures.
“Speaking of which, we should get going.”
He held out a hand.
Jazz took it without hesitation.
“Okay.”
They began walking across the snowy landscape together.
After a moment Danny spoke again.
“Oh — quick warning.”
Jazz glanced over.
“What?”
“Frostbite’s people will probably bow to you.”
She blinked.
“…what?”
“Don’t bow back.”
“Why?”
“I tried that once.”
“And?”
“They saluted me.”
Jazz burst out laughing.
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish.”
She shook her head, still smiling.
“But why would they bow to me?”
Danny gave her a sideways glance.
“You’re my sister.”
“So?”
“So that technically makes you a princess.”
Jazz stopped walking.
“…Danny.”
“Yeah?”
“I hate that.”
Danny sighed dramatically.
“Same.”
Danny didn’t blame her for the long, suffering groan that escaped Jazz when he finished explaining the whole princess situation.
Honestly, he felt the same way.
He had never asked to be the Crown Prince of the Ghost Zone, and the idea of eventually becoming king still made something twist unpleasantly in his stomach.
Jazz dragged a hand down her face before exhaling slowly.
“Fantastic,” she muttered.
Danny gave a small shrug that carried a surprising amount of resignation for someone his age.
“And Frostbite is a stickler for formalities,” he added. “His people are too, so there isn’t much I can do about it.”
Jazz made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan.
“If you push hard enough they’ll call you by your name,” Danny continued, trying to be helpful. “But they still won’t stop bowing.”
“That’s… mildly terrifying.”
“Yeah.”
They continued walking across the snowy terrain.
Jazz noticed something interesting as they approached the main settlement of the Far Frozen.
The air shifted again.
It grew cooler — not in a biting or uncomfortable way, but in a clear, refreshing sort of way. Like breathing crisp winter air early in the morning.
At the same time the atmosphere seemed brighter.
The Far Frozen was filled with towering ice structures carved into elegant shapes that reflected the pale teal sky above them. Each structure glowed softly from within, the light diffused through layers of ice like lanterns hidden inside crystal.
The effect was beautiful.
Soft snow drifted steadily down from the sky in a gentle, endless fall.
Jazz lifted a hand to catch some.
The flakes didn’t melt when they touched her skin.
Instead, they hissed quietly when they landed in the flames of her hair.
She blinked in surprise.
Danny noticed too.
He also noticed something else.
Her flames had changed.
The fire dancing along her hairline seemed calmer here.
Softer.
The flames moved slower, dimmer somehow, as if settling into a relaxed rhythm.
It almost looked like the environment itself was soothing them.
Danny didn’t comment on it.
But he filed the observation away for later.
They continued walking until the central structures of the settlement came into view.
And then the yetis noticed them.
It happened quickly.
One moment the snow-covered pathways were quiet.
The next moment voices echoed across the ice.
“Your Highness!”
“Great One!”
“The Crown Prince!”
“Princess!”
Jazz froze mid-step.
Danny winced.
Several large yetis approached from different directions, their expressions lighting up with genuine joy as they spotted Danny.
Many of them bowed.
Deeply.
Others simply placed a fist against their chest in respectful greeting.
The titles started again.
“Great One!”
“Welcome back, Crown Prince!”
“Princess!”
Jazz visibly twitched at that one.
Danny noticed immediately and had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
Unfortunately for him, Jazz noticed the effort.
She turned and smacked him lightly upside the head.
“Hey!” he protested.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me.”
“I wasn’t!”
“You absolutely were.”
Danny raised both hands defensively.
“I swear I wasn’t.”
Jazz narrowed her eyes.
He grinned.
She groaned again.
Eventually the crowd of yetis parted slightly and began guiding them further into the settlement.
They seemed excited to see Danny again, their voices cheerful as they spoke among themselves.
Jazz noticed something interesting about them.
Despite their size and sharp teeth, there was nothing intimidating about their expressions.
They looked genuinely happy to see Danny.
That alone told her a lot.
Eventually they reached a large open courtyard surrounded by carved ice structures.
And that was where Jazz first saw Frostbite.
At first she thought she might be misunderstanding what she was looking at.
Frostbite was sitting in the center of what appeared to be a play area.
He wasn’t alone.
A large group of young yetis had claimed him as their personal jungle gym.
Three small children clung to one of his massive ice arms.
Two sat comfortably on his shoulders.
Four more were seated beside him, chattering excitedly.
One tiny child was sitting directly in his lap while two others played with his other hand.
Frostbite himself appeared perfectly content.
He laughed warmly as one of the children attempted to climb up his back.
Jazz and Danny both stopped walking.
They stood there quietly for a moment just watching.
It took a while before Frostbite noticed them.
When he did, his entire face lit up.
“Great One!”
His voice carried across the courtyard easily.
He carefully lifted one of the children off his shoulder before standing up slightly, though several of the smaller ones still clung stubbornly to him.
“Welcome!”
His sharp-toothed smile was wide and genuine.
“And this must be the princess.”
Jazz stepped forward beside Danny.
“Hello,” she said politely. “You must be Frostbite. Danny has told me so much about you.”
Frostbite raised his eyebrows slightly.
“I do hope none of it was bad,” he said warmly. “I would hate to have done something that required negative discussion from the Great One.”
Jazz chuckled softly.
Danny’s cheeks turned faintly pink.
“No,” she said. “Nothing bad.”
She tilted her head slightly.
“In all honesty, if I didn’t know better I might have assumed you were an imaginary friend he made up.”
Danny made an indignant sound.
Jazz reached over and ruffled his hair affectionately.
“But I know Danny isn’t like that.”
Danny immediately tried to smooth his hair back down.
“That was one time,” he muttered.
Jazz smirked.
The moment was interrupted by the children.
Several of them had finally noticed the newcomers.
It took a few seconds for them to process what they were seeing.
Then their reactions split into three very distinct groups.
Four of the older children straightened slightly and offered polite greetings.
“Great One.”
“Greetings, my Prince.”
Danny nodded politely in response.
Three of the younger ones didn’t seem particularly interested and continued climbing Frostbite like he was a playground structure.
But five of them…
Five of them stared at Danny.
Then at Jazz.
Then back at Danny again.
Their eyes lit up.
Bright.
Excited.
Like someone had just announced the arrival of the most interesting person in the world.
Danny saw the look.
“Oh no—”
It was too late.
The children launched themselves at him.
All at once.
The first one hit him square in the chest.
“Oof!”
Then another.
And another.
Within seconds Danny was tackled backward onto the snow as the small yetis piled onto him enthusiastically.
Jazz tried very hard not to laugh.
She really did.
But the loud thump of Danny hitting the ground followed by the chaotic pile of excited children made it extremely difficult.
Her shoulders started shaking.
Behind them Frostbite was watching the scene with open amusement.
“Danny,” Jazz asked sweetly.
“Yes?” his muffled voice replied from somewhere beneath the pile.
“You good down there?”
A suffering groan was the only response.
That was the moment Jazz lost the battle.
She broke into quiet laughter, covering her mouth as she tried unsuccessfully to regain control.
It took several minutes before the chaos settled.
By the time Jazz managed to compose herself again, Danny had at least managed to sit up.
One of the small children had claimed his shoulders and was cheering loudly.
Danny looked deeply resigned.
Frostbite chuckled.
“I assume you are here to begin the sessions we discussed for Princess Jazmine?”
“Jazz,” she corrected immediately.
Danny opened his mouth to add his agreement.
“Please. No one really calls me Jazmine anymore.”
Frostbite considered that.
“Very well.”
He inclined his head respectfully.
“But I insist on the title. It is only fitting.”
Jazz sighed.
Before she could argue further, several adult yetis approached.
They had been watching from a respectful distance.
Now they gently began gathering the children.
One by one the kids were lifted away from Danny and Frostbite, though a few protested loudly.
Danny looked relieved.
Jazz decided the battle over titles wasn’t worth the effort.
“Alright,” she said finally. “Yes. We’re here for the sessions.”
Danny quickly jumped in.
“Next stop after this is Clockwork.”
Frostbite nodded sharply.
“Excellent.”
He carefully stood to his full height.
Jazz immediately realized just how large he actually was.
She felt very small in comparison.
Without another word Frostbite turned and led them toward one of the larger structures nearby.
Inside, he gathered several items and placed them neatly into a simple travel bag.
The process took a little while.
Jazz spent the time quietly observing the Far Frozen’s architecture.
Everything was carved from ice, yet somehow it didn’t feel fragile.
The structures felt ancient.
Strong.
Eventually Frostbite finished packing.
They stepped back outside and began walking away from the settlement toward an open clearing.
The snow crunched softly under their feet.
For a while no one spoke.
Then Danny suddenly stopped.
“Here.”
Jazz turned toward him.
He was holding out his hand.
“While you’re still learning how to fly.”
She smiled warmly.
It was a small gesture.
But she appreciated it more than he probably realized.
Danny had come a long way.
He still struggled sometimes.
But his confidence was improving.
And Jazz was proud of him for that.
She took his hand.
“Thanks, Danny.”
He smiled back.
A moment later they lifted into the air.
The Far Frozen slowly faded behind them as they flew.
Jazz couldn’t help noticing how quiet things had become.
The silence stretched longer than she expected.
It wasn’t uncomfortable exactly.
Just… unfamiliar.
Fortunately Frostbite broke it first.
“Great One,” he said gently from Danny’s left. “Have you explained the nature of the sessions to the Princess?”
Jazz was oddly relieved to hear someone speak.
Danny nodded.
“Yeah. I told her the basics.”
He scratched the back of his neck slightly.
“The specifics are more your area though.”
He glanced toward Jazz sheepishly.
“Ghost physiology and medicine aren’t really my thing.”
His voice dropped slightly.
“Otherwise I wouldn’t come to you whenever something happens.”
Frostbite chuckled softly.
“Very true.”
Then he turned his attention to Jazz.
“I will explain everything in detail once we arrive,” he said kindly.
“Does that sound acceptable to you, Princess?”
Jazz was still slightly irritated by the title.
But she had already accepted that Frostbite wasn’t going to drop it.
“Yes,” she said with a polite smile.
“That sounds great.”
Frostbite nodded approvingly.
Danny’s expression brightened.
Moments later he slowed their flight.
“We’re here.”
Jazz looked ahead.
A massive structure loomed in the distance.
Its architecture was unlike anything she had seen so far in the Ghost Zone.
The building seemed constructed from shifting layers of metal and glass.
Massive clock faces covered its surface.
Gears turned slowly within the walls.
“Jazz,” Danny announced with dramatic flair, gesturing toward it.
“Welcome to the Time Citadel.”
He lowered them carefully toward the ground near a tall door.
“Or,” he added casually, “Clockwork’s lair. As I like to call it.”
Jazz stared up at the structure in awe.
Before she could say anything, the door opened.
Floating in the doorway was a teenager.
Or at least someone who looked like one.
His purple cloak shifted slightly in an unseen breeze as he regarded them calmly.
“Right on time,” he said.
His gaze moved to Jazz.
His smile was knowing.
“Lovely to meet you, Jasmine dear.” Clockwork hovered in the doorway, one hand resting lightly against the frame as if he had been expecting them for some time.
Jazz straightened slightly beside Danny.
“Hi,” she said, polite but curious. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Clockwork’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than felt entirely normal—not uncomfortable, just… thorough. Like he wasn’t only looking at her, but at something layered beneath.
“The pleasure is mine, Jasmine,” he replied smoothly.
“Jazz,” she corrected gently.
A small smile tugged at his lips, a small expecting smile. “Of course. Jazz.”
Danny shifted beside her, hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. “Told you he’d do that.”
Clockwork ignored him entirely with the air of someon both used to it and expecting the statement itself, stepping aside and gesturing inward.
The interior of the Time Citadel felt… strange, is the best way Jazz could explain her first thoughts.
Jazz couldn’t place it at first, but as she stepped inside, she realised it wasn’t the space that was odd—it was the feeling of it. The air seemed thicker, like it carried weight. The distant ticking of unseen clocks echoed softly, layered over itself in uneven rhythms.
Some were fast.Some were slow.
Some didn’t seem to follow any rhythm at all. It felt disorienting slightly.
Jazz glanced around, taking in the towering mechanisms embedded into the walls—massive gears turning lazily, glowing clock faces shifting without numbers, hands moving in directions that didn’t always make sense.
“It feels weird in here,” she admitted.
Clockwork inclined his head slightly. “You are perceiving temporal density.”
Danny made a face. “Translation: time’s doing weird stuff again.”
“That is… a simplified way of putting it,” Clockwork allowed. She let out a small snicker at that.
Frostbite stepped forward slightly, his large frame somehow careful in the confined space.
“We are here for the training arrangement you approved.”
Clockwork nodded once.
“Yes. And it would be inefficient to conduct it here.”He lifted a hand. The air in front of them shimmered.
At first it looked like heat distortion—but then it folded in on itself, forming a circular opening. Through it, Jazz could see a completely different landscape. Softer. Dimmer. The colours muted, almost like twilight stretched across everything while still bright.
Danny perked up immediately.
“Oh—this one.” Jazz glanced at him. “This one?”
Clockwork’s gaze shifted back to her.
“This is a pocket dimension anchored outside your native temporal flow,” he explained. Jazz blinked.
“…Okay, I’m going to need that explained like I’m not taking advanced physics. Sorry, but i studdy psychology, not advanced science.”
Danny snorted. Clockwork’s expression didn’t change, but something about his tone softened—just slightly.
“In your world,” he began, “time progresses at a constant rate. One second follows another in a fixed sequence.” Jazz nodded slowly.
“In this dimension,” he continued, gesturing toward the portal, “that sequence has been… stretched.”
“How much?” she asked.
“Approximately a twenty-four to one ratio,” Clockwork replied. “For every hour that passes in your home dimension, a full day will pass within this space.”
Jazz’s eyes widened.
“So we get… a full day in there… but only an hour passes back home?”
“Correct.”
She glanced at Danny. “You weren’t exaggerating.”
Danny shrugged. “Told you it was useful.”
Jazz looked back at the portal, interest sparking brighter now. “Is it stable?” Clockwork’s lips curved faintly.
“I would not bring you somewhere unstable.”
“…Good point.”
He continued, more precise now. “The dimension is self-contained. It does not drift, collapse, or interfere with adjacent timelines. You will not age differently in any meaningful way, nor will your physical state desynchronise upon returning.”
Jazz paused.
“…You’re saying that like it’s a thing that could happen.”
Clockwork didn’t answer that.
Danny leaned closer to her. “That’s a yes.”
Jazz made a face. “Great.”
Frostbite let out a low, amused rumble. “It is a safe environment for extended training,” he added. “And one we have used before.”
That seemed to settle it enough. Clockwork stepped slightly to the side, allowing them a clearer path. “When you are ready.” Danny didn’t hesitate.
“C’mon,” he said, reaching for Jazz’s hand again.
She took it without thinking this time. At a later thought she would be beaming with joy as she realizes that her baby brother was finally getting used to touch again, even initiating it himself.
Together, they stepped through.
The shift was immediate.
The air changed first—softer, quieter. The faint hum of time that had filled the Citadel disappeared entirely, replaced by something calmer. Still. The distant ticksing of clocks instantly musted to make a very noticeable silence.
Jazz looked around.
The landscape stretched out in muted tones—soft greys, pale greens, and distant silhouettes of floating landmasses. The sky looked endless, but not empty. Like it held something just out of reach. Maybe even like a scene out of a fantasy story where elves dwarfs and dragons exist along side humans in a medieval setting.
Frostbite stepped through behind them, followed by Clockwork, who allowed the portal to close with a soft distortion.
Danny released her hand.
“Well,” he said lightly, “welcome to extended training mode.”
Jazz let out a small breath.
“…This is actually kind of amazing… And nerve wracking.”
Frostbite stepped forward, his posture shifting—subtly, but noticeably. Less relaxed now. More focused.
“Before any training begins,” he said, voice calm but firm, “we will start with a preliminary assessment.”
Jazz turned toward him.
“A check-up?”
“Yes.”
He nodded once.
“I will be examining your core stability, energy flow, and overall condition as a developing liminal being.”
Danny winced slightly. “He means a full scan.”
Frostbite continued smoothly.
“I will take baseline readings of your ectoplasmic output, observe your thermal regulation, and identify any instability points within your core.”
Jazz blinked.
“…That sounds thorough.”
“It must be,” Frostbite replied gently. “Early development is the most critical stage. Furthermore, from my understanding of how the great one grew as a Half species, your condition is similar to that of a newly born neverborn in an already grown/almost developed body.”
He gestured toward a flat, open area nearby.
“If you would, Princess.”
Jazz hesitated for only a second this time.
Then she nodded and stepped forward.
“Alright,” she said. “Let’s do it.”“Please. Come in.”
Frostbite’s examination began with quiet efficiency, his movements careful and practiced in a way that immediately set a structured tone to the process, quickly setting up the tools and instruments he brought along with him. He guided Jazz to stand at the centre of the open space, where the ground beneath her feet responded—faint runes flickering to life in soft blues and whites, in a pre-made layout, forming a diagnostic circle attuned to ectoplasmic signatures.
The first stage was observational. Frostbite did not touch her at first, instead circling slowly, his gaze focused not on her physical form but on the subtle distortions in the air around her. To Jazz, it felt like standing under scrutiny that reached past skin and bone, something deeper being mapped and measured. A faint warmth began to build in her chest, not unpleasant, but noticeable—her core reacting instinctively to the attention.
Only then did Frostbite step closer.
One large, careful hand hovered just over the centre of her sternum, never quite making contact. The air between them shimmered as he drew readings directly from her core. He noted the steady rhythm of her energy output, the consistent heat signature, and the way her power pulsed—not erratic, but… intense. Focused. Almost too focused.
A fire core, he explained quite obviously, thrives on controlled burn rather than unchecked flame. It requires consistent output, not suppression, but also not overexertion. Starvation of use could lead to internal pressure, while overuse risked flare instability. Balance, in all things, would be essential.
Quite polar from what Danny went through. Where Danny ended up in a state where he was slowly freezing from the inside out when suppressed, Jazz would have a more exothermic reaction where her surroundings would continue to heat uncontrollably to the point where it would make everyday objects ither melt of just set aflame from a small distance away if she didn’t release the excess energy lik Danny did.
From there, he shifted into deeper analysis. The runic circle brightened briefly as it mapped her energy pathways—thin streams of ectoplasm threading through her system as he pulled out a screen like tool which he stated collected data.
These, too, were stable, though slightly rigid in their flow. Frostbite identified this as a reflection of her mental patterns.
Obsessive tendencies.
Not inherently harmful, he clarified, but something that would need careful management, like Dannys obsession of space and mild protection, a passive form of feeding the core. A fire core responds to focus—amplifies it. Left unchecked, that focus could become fixation, and fixation could become fuel, therefore it was more important to figure out what hers was to be able to manage it or it could easily get out of hand.
If she pushed too hard, held too tightly to control or perfection, her core would not burn out—it would surge.
And surges, in developing cores, were dangerous.
It helped that Frostbite had already gone though this with Danny, so Jazz had alot of reference and someone to go to for opinions if she couldn’t reach Frostbite.
Despite this, his overall conclusion was reassuring. Jazz was, at present, healthy. Her core was newly formed but stable, her energy output strong without being volatile, her body adapting well to the integration of human and ghost physiology.
However, that stability came with a caveat.
In ghost terms, she was the equivalent of an infant—newly formed, still developing, and therefore inherently vulnerable. Her control, while impressive, was untested over time. Growth periods could introduce fluctuations, and without monitoring, small instabilities could escalate unnoticed.
She was already developing quicker than Danny, whether that be because of different ways of growth, where one was instantaneous with a life threatening accident, the other a slow process of deathly contamination over years since birth.
Regular check-ups would be necessary.
Frostbite outlined her care with the same calm thoroughness: maintain consistent energy release through controlled use of abilities; avoid prolonged suppression; rest when signs of overheating or emotional strain appear; ground herself through physical and mental practices; find the tendansie that feeds her core; and, most importantly, allow flexibility in thought rather than rigid control.
As the runes dimmed and the examination came to a close, the air shifted once more—subtle, but distinct.
A familiar, ancient presence slipped into the dimension with quiet ease.
“Such a delicate flame,” came a calm, measured voice.
Pandora stepped forward, her gaze settling on Jazz with knowing interest.
Jazz noticed Pandora before she fully processed who Pandora was.
It was the silhouette first—tall and composed, standing with a stillness that felt deliberate rather than passive. As Jazz’s focus sharpened, details began to settle into place, each one more striking than the last.
Pandora was easily taller than Danny, taller than Frostbite, her presence elongated by posture alone, though her true height was difficult to pin down with the way the space seemed to bend subtly around her. Four arms extended from her frame with perfect symmetry, each one moving independently yet in quiet harmony.
It wasn’t unsettling—just… otherworldly in a way that felt intentional, like every part of her had purpose. That alone reminded Jazz of the stories she had heard of Pandora's tale with her box.
Her clothing flowed in layered fabrics, deep purples and muted golds that caught the dim light of the dimension and reflected it softly. The material shifted as she moved, almost like liquid silk, edged with faint glowing patterns that pulsed slowly—echoing something ancient and controlled, joints protected by plates of gold armor.
In one of her hands, she held a long spear. Greek by design.
It wasn’t raised or threatening. Instead, it rested lightly against the ground, as though it were simply an extension of her rather than a weapon. Its surface was smooth and dark, etched with markings that reminded Jazz faintly of the runes Frostbite had used—only older. Sharper.
And her eyes—
Calm. Knowing. Measuring, but not unkind. A gentle yet harsh red like awindow into her vast knowledge, Jazz secretly wished she could pick at her brain.
Jazz straightened slightly without realising it. The giantess’ presence alone seemed to command respect.
Behind her, Frostbite began to move, the faint glow of the diagnostic circle fading completely as he carefully packed away his instruments. The shift in atmosphere—from clinical focus to something more transitional—was subtle but noticeable.
“You have done well, Princess,” he said warmly, offering her a small nod. “Continue as advised, and you will grow strong and stable.”
Jazz gave a small smile. “Thank you… for explaining everything.”
Danny lifted a hand in an easy wave. “See you later, Frostbite.”
The yeti inclined his head to both of them before stepping back, a portal opening with a low hum at his side. “I will return when next you require assessment.”
And then he was gone.
The quiet that followed felt different—less structured, more open.
Danny shifted slightly, glancing between Jazz and Pandora. “Uh—right. Jazz, this is Pandora. She’s—”
“A guide,” Pandora supplied smoothly, stepping forward. “Among other things.”
Her gaze settled fully on Jazz now, and up close, the weight of it was unmistakable—not heavy, but deeply attentive.
“It is a pleasure to meet you properly,” she continued. “You are… precisely as I expected.”
Jazz blinked. “I’m not sure if that’s reassuring or not.”
A faint smile touched Pandora’s lips. “It is meant to be both.”
She shifted her grip on the spear slightly, though her posture remained relaxed.
“My role,” she explained, “is to assist you in developing control—not of power, but of self. A fire core does not simply exist. It responds. It reflects. It amplifies.”
Jazz’s expression grew more focused.
“If your emotions remain unregulated,” Pandora continued, “your core will act upon them. Even outside of your ghost form, that influence may bleed through—subtle at first. Heightened temperature. Instability in your surroundings. Eventually… visible manifestations.”
“Meaning I could accidentally expose myself,” Jazz said.
“Or cause damage,” Pandora confirmed calmly.
There was no fear in her tone. Just fact. Something she appreciated.
What followed unfolded less like training and more like guided experience. Pandora did not push—she directed. Small exercises at first: controlled breathing, emotional awareness, deliberate shifts in focus while maintaining a steady internal “burn.”
Jazz was encouraged to notice rather than suppress, to let feelings exist without letting them spike, on occasions she would slip when intentionally pushed or pressured.
Danny joined sooner than expected.
“I’m not just going to stand here and watch,” he muttered at one point, drifting closer. “That’s weird.”
But there was something quieter beneath it—something unspoken. He stayed near, occasionally mirroring exercises, sometimes offering small, offhand comments that grounded the process. It wasn’t structured for him, but he participated anyway.
He didn’t want her doing it alone.
Time passed—far more than it felt like.
The muted sky shifted almost imperceptibly, the dimension stretching on without urgency as practice layered into understanding. Jazz grew more aware of the constant presence of her core, the way it responded, the way it could be guided rather than restrained.
And then—
Another presence burst into the space, bright and immediate.
“Oooh! I didn’t miss everything, did I?”
Dorothea—Dora—arrived with a swirl of energy and a wide, cheerful grin, her voice cutting cleanly through the calm like a spark catching flame, she recognized Dora, remembered the dragon and amulet situation.
Dora’s arrival shifted the entire atmosphere in an instant.
Where Pandora had been calm, measured, and deliberate, Dora was bright—almost sparkling with energy. She practically bounced the last step forward, her grin wide and completely unrestrained.
“Oooh, Pandora, you started without me!” she teased, hands landing on her hips as she tilted her head playfully.
Pandora, entirely unbothered, inclined her head. “You were not expected for some time.”
“And yet, here I am,” Dora replied cheerfully.
There was an ease between them—familiar, friendly, unforced. Pandora regarded her for a moment longer before turning back to Jazz.
“Our session concludes here for now,” she said, one of her hands lifting slightly. A small stack of books appeared, bound in dark covers with faintly glowing script. “These will assist you. Focus on awareness, emotional mapping, and cognitive flexibility.”
Jazz accepted them carefully. “Thank you… I will.”
Pandora’s gaze flicked briefly to Danny, then back to Jazz. “Control begins in the mind. Do not neglect it.”
With that, she stepped back, her form dissolving smoothly into the air like smoke caught in reverse. In that moment Danny leaned closer to Jazz and pulled a questioning face in the direction of where Pandora disappeared, “Why do I feel like she secretly took a dig at me without me noticing?”
Jazz didn’t snort. No she didn’t, but she did bite her lip so hard she could swear she tasted her blood. Or was it ectoplasm right now? both?
Dora clapped her hands together once, bright and excited. “Right! My turn!”
Danny raised an eyebrow. “That sounded ominous.” less quiet than his previous whisper.
“It’s important,” Dora insisted, already moving. “You two are royalty—actual royalty. That means standards, presentation, presence.”
Jazz blinked. “We’re… starting that now?”
“Yes,” Dora said simply, as if it were obvious. “And we’re starting with something everyone thinks they understand—but almost always gets wrong.”
She reached into seemingly nowhere and pulled out a small table, three chairs, and—somehow—a full spread of food. It appeared piece by piece in quick succession until a complete dining setup sat neatly before them.
Danny stared. “You just carry that around?”
“Of course I do,” Dora said, already taking a seat. “Sit!”
Danny shrugged and dropped into the chair beside her. Jazz followed a second later, still processing. She secretly wondered if she’d ever learn how to do that if even Danny was stumped.
Dora straightened immediately, posture perfect without looking forced. “Rule one: posture is everything. Shoulders relaxed, back straight—not stiff. You are not statues.”
She gestured at them with a fork. “Eat.”
What followed was less instruction and more correction-through-practice. Every movement was observed.
“No elbows on the table—Danny.”
“I wasn’t—okay, fine.”
“Jazz, smaller bites. Controlled, not rushed.”
“I’m not rushing—”
“You’re thinking too much while eating. Relax your expression.”
Danny snorted quietly. “Good luck with that.”
Dora pointed her fork at him. “You’re next.”
Despite themselves, they adjusted. Slowly at first, then more naturally as Dora guided them with quick, precise feedback. It took not as much pressure as one would think to slightly dislodge old habits learnt from a chaotic home and reapply teachings of something polar opposite.
When the meal ended, Dora clapped again. “Good! Now—posture training.”
Jazz eyed her warily. “That sounds worse.”
“It’s not,” Dora chirped, immediately placing one of Pandora’s books on Jazz’s head. Then another on Danny’s.
“Hey—!”
“Balance,” Dora said brightly. “Walk.”
Surprisingly… it worked.
Both of them adjusted almost instinctively. Danny’s balance, already sharpened by his ghost abilities, compensated quickly, and his constant acts of evasion and maserfull co-ordination. Jazz, more controlled in her movements, found a steady rhythm within moments.
Dora blinked. “Oh. Well. That was faster than expected.”
Danny smirked slightly. “We’re good at weird.”
Jazz let out a small laugh, carefully stepping forward without dropping the book. “Apparently.”
“Excellent!” Dora said, recovering instantly. “Then we move on!”
The training expanded from there, flowing from one skill to another. Speech patterns—measured, deliberate, confident without arrogance. How to deflect questions politely. How to acknowledge people you disliked without showing it.
“If someone annoys you,” Dora explained, pacing in front of them, “you do not react. You redirect.”
“How?” Danny asked.
“Like this,” she said sweetly, then in a perfect polite tone: “What an… interesting perspective. I’ll take that into consideration.”
Danny blinked. “That sounds fake.”
“It is,” Dora said cheerfully. “That’s the point.”
Jazz huffed a quiet laugh. Danny made an unsure sound while Jazz wondered if Danny was even possible of hiding his dislike of people.
On a later thought the answer semed more likely to be a heavy no, but held some possibilities.
Time stretched.
Practice turned into repetition, repetition into habit. What started as awkward slowly became smoother, more natural. They corrected each other occasionally, sometimes earning an approving nod from Dora, sometimes an immediate “No, do it again.”
More times than not, Danny received a stern look or a smack upsid the head or any part of body that needed to be corrected.
Eventually, Dora declared a break.
“A royal education requires proper rest,” she announced, snapping her fingers.
The setting shifted into a soft, open picnic beneath the muted sky. Blankets, tea, light food—simpler this time.
Jazz sank down with a quiet breath. “Okay… this part I like.”
Danny flopped back slightly. “Yeah, this is more my speed.”
Dora beamed. “See? Balance!”
They had only just settled when the air shifted again.
Heavier this time.
A figure emerged first—armoured, imposing, his presence sharp and unmistakable.
“Greetings, your highnesses.” Fright Knight’s voice carried with formal weight as he stepped forward, sword at his side.
And then—
“Yo.” Ember drifted in after him, far more relaxed, offering a casual wave as she glanced between them with an easy grin.
Dora did not hesitate for even a second.
“Oh! Perfect timing—you’re both staying,” she declared, already on her feet and physically ushering them forward.
Ember laughed easily, hands raised in surrender. “Hey, I’m not complaining. Free food and vibes? I’m in.”
Fright Knight, however, did not move. He stood where he had entered, posture rigid, presence heavy with quiet authority. “I was not summoned for leisure.”
Dora waved a hand dismissively. “You were summoned near leisure. Close enough.”
Danny snorted. “C’mon, it’s just sitting down. You fight ghosts, not chairs.”
“That is not the point.”
Jazz tilted her head slightly, softer but no less firm. “You greeted us formally. That means you acknowledge us as royalty… right?”
Fright Knight inclined his head. “Of course.”
“Then consider it a request,” she said simply.
There was a pause.
Danny leaned back on his hands, adding, “A royal request.”
Another pause—longer this time.
Then, with visible reluctance, Fright Knight stepped forward and sat.
Dora beamed. “See? That wasn’t so hard! Also, well done Jazz. You learn so quickly! Unlike a certain Ptince over hear.” She jabbed her thumb to her left where Danny sat.
“Hey!” He yelled back around a mouth full of inger sandwitches causing Dora to sigh helpless.
Ember plopped down cross-legged beside Jazz, immediately reaching for something from the picnic spread. “So,” she said between bites, “this your first proper training run?”
Jazz nodded. “Yeah… it’s been a lot.”
Danny huffed lightly. “That’s one way to put it.”
Conversation came easier than expected after that. Ember filled most of the space naturally—stories, commentary, light teasing. Dora chimed in enthusiastically, while Danny added dry remarks here and there. Even Fright Knight, though reserved, contributed occasionally—brief, precise observations that carried more weight than their length suggested.
It was… normal. Strangely, comfortably normal.For a while, they weren’t training, or analysing, or learning. They were just… there.
Eventually, the food thinned out, the tea cooled, and Dora clapped her hands again, springing back to her feet. “Right! Break over!”
With a few quick motions, the entire picnic began to vanish—blankets folding themselves, dishes disappearing, the space returning to its open, muted stillness.
Before everything fully cleared, Dora slipped something into Jazz’s hands—a folded letter sealed neatly.
“This,” she said in a lowered voice, “is a stylist I adore. Completely versatile—formal, casual, modern, traditional, everything.”
Jazz blinked. “Oh—?”
“Please,” Dora continued, leaning in slightly, “please drag Danny with you.”
Danny narrowed his eyes immediately. “Why do I feel like I’m being talked about?”
“You are,” Dora said brightly, not even attempting to hide it.
Then, quieter—just to Jazz—
“Don’t tell him I said this, but he does have very good looks,” she whispered conspiratorially. “And I am losing my mind watching him refuse to dress properly or take care of himself.”
Jazz bit back a smile.
“He either ignores anything I give him or somehow destroys it,” Dora added with a dramatic sigh. “You are my last hope.”
“I can hear you,” Danny said flatly.
“Good!” Dora chirped. “Take it as encouragement!”
With that, she straightened, gave them both a quick, affectionate look, and waved. “Good luck! You’ll do wonderfully! And get him a cape! I can bet my castle they would look divine with his complexion.”
And just like that—she was gone.
The space shifted again, settling into something more focused.
Ember stretched her arms above her head. “Alright, let’s get into it.”
Fright Knight stood, his posture sharpening instantly. “We will divide tasks.”
Jazz glanced between them.
Ember pointed at her. “You’re with me first. Fire stuff.”
Then she jerked a thumb at Danny. “Tall, dark, and broody over there gets sword duty.”
“I’m not broody,” Danny muttered.
Fright Knight did not comment, only gestured. “Come.”
What followed was intense—but different from before.
With Ember, Jazz’s training became active, almost instinctual. She was guided to feel her core, not just regulate it. Small sparks at first—controlled bursts of heat, shaping flames in her palm, learning how to let them exist without losing control.
“Don’t choke it,” Ember said at one point, crouched nearby. “Fire needs room. You cage it, it pushes back.”
Jazz adjusted, letting the warmth expand slightly—and felt the difference immediately.
“There you go,” Ember grinned.
Then came influence.
Nearby ambient energy, faint traces of heat in the environment—Jazz learned to nudge, to draw, to connect. Not taking control forcefully, but guiding.
Meanwhile, across the field, Danny’s training rang with the sharp clang of metal.
Fright Knight was relentless.
“Again.”
Danny swung.
“Too slow.”
Again.
“Too predictable.”
Again.
There was no frustration in Fright Knight’s tone—only expectation. Precision. Improvement through repetition.
Eventually, they switched.
Jazz found herself holding a weapon—unfamiliar, but not impossible. Fright Knight guided her stance, her grip, her balance.
“You are not separate from your core,” he instructed. “It is part of your combat.”
Carefully, she tried—letting a faint heat trace along the weapon, not enough to destabilise, just enough to enhance.
“Better,” he said.
On the other side, Ember leaned against nothing in particular, watching Danny with a smirk.
“Y’know, if you wanna help her,” she said, “you gotta stop treating your own powers like a backup plan.”
Danny frowned slightly. “I don’t—”
“You do,” she cut in. “You hold back.”
He didn’t argue.
“Try this,” Ember added, pushing off and stepping closer. “Don’t think. Just react.”
That turned into movement—faster, less structured. Mock fights, quick bursts of power, testing reflexes instead of control.
Time stretched.
Again.
Training layered into muscle memory, instinct, understanding.
By the time they stopped, it wasn’t because they had finished—but because something in the air shifted, signalling the passage of far more time than it felt like.
Ember exhaled. “Damn. Not bad.”
Fright Knight inclined his head. “Progress has been made.”
“Yeah,” Danny said, a little breathless.
Jazz nodded, equally tired. “Definitely.”
Ember gave a casual wave. “We’ll pick it up next time.”
Fright Knight added, “Remain disciplined.”
And then they were gone.
Silence returned.
This time, it settled softly.
Danny dropped back into the grass with a quiet groan. “Okay… break.”
Jazz followed a second later, lying beside him, staring up at the endless sky. For a while, neither of them spoke. Then “That wasn’t as bad as I thought,” she admitted.
Danny huffed a small laugh. “Yeah… same.” Another pause. “Hey, Jazz?”
“Yeah?”
“…You’re doing good.”
She smiled slightly, not looking at him. “You too.” The moment lingered—quiet, steady.
Until the air shifted once more. Clockwork appeared without sound, simply there, standing a short distance away. He did not interrupt immediately. Instead, he observed.
Time passed—soft, unmeasured. Eventually, he spoke.
“There is one final lesson to consider.”
Jazz pushed herself up slightly. “Final?”
“For now,” he clarified.
Danny sat up as well. “Nocturn?”
Clockwork’s gaze moved between them. A nod. “One of the mind.”
Jazz stilled slightly.
“…Are you sure he is good right now? Like, he won't try to manipulate me or you?”
Clockwork inclined his head. “Yes.”
There was a brief glance between the siblings.
Then Danny nodded. “Yeah. Okay. He’s been doing really well, I’ll trust him.”
Jazz followed a second later. “Alright.”
Clockwork raised a hand. A portal opened almost instantly, dark, edged with something deeper than the others had been.
And from it, Nocturn stepped through.
Jazz noticed it immediately.
The way the air shifted around him wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t heavy like Fright Knight, or calm like Pandora, or even strange like Clockwork.
It was… deeper. But on a similar level. This must be what Danny meant when saying the ancients were both the same yet completely different.
Danny tensed beside her. “Okay—yeah, I lied, don’t like this one.”
Jazz didn’t disagree. She straightened slightly, instincts sharpening. “You’re Nocturn.” she said, more to herself than anyone else.
The figure paused, then inclined his head—not imposing, not looming, but deliberate.
“I am.”
There was a brief silence. Judgmental silence. The type where seemingmy one wrong move would change everything even though no one is so much as breathing. In this case quite literally.
Then Danny folded his arms. “You’re also the guy who messed with people’s dreams. Including mine.”
Nocturn did not deny it. Jazz couldv’e sworn a glimpse of regret crossed his eyes.
Instead, his expression shifted—subtle, but genuine. “Yes,” he said. “And for that, I owe you both an apology.”
That… wasn’t what either of them expected. Maybe it was regret she saw then.
Jazz frowned slightly. “An apology?”
“My actions were… not measured,” Nocturn continued. “It had been a very long time since I had interacted with mortal minds directly. When I was pulled through the portal, the sudden exposure—the noise, the complexity, the intensity—as much as i hate to admit it—overwhelmed my senses.”
Danny’s posture eased just a fraction, though he didn’t drop his guard. “So you just… lost control?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Nocturn admitted. “My reasoning became clouded. I reacted instead of observing. It was… an error. And in my position as an ancient, an error on my end can be a fatal mistake.”
Jazz studied him for a moment longer, then gave a small, cautious nod. “Alright.”
Danny exhaled quietly. “Yeah… alright. Apology accepted i guess.” A nod from Jazz showed a similar sentiment. “But i’m not forgiving you just like that.”
A nod from Nocturn showed his acceptance. It went a lot calmer than they had hoped. Yes, danny knew that Nocturn had been doing better, he was told so. But, seeing is believing and all that stuff.
The tension didn’t vanish—but it shifted. Less sharp. More watchful than defensive. More area for adaptability and relaxation. More room for proceeding with the original plans. Nocturn inclined his head again. “Then we will proceed.”
He stepped forward slightly, the space around him dimming—not darker in a threatening way, but softer. Quieter.
“The mind,” he began, “is not something to control through force. Especially not for one such as you. Normally Thoes with fire cores best learn through experiance. However I have been informed this is not an option for you.”
His gaze settled on Jazz. A curt nod sent back his way.
“You must learn stillness. What other fire cores learn is that their emotions greatly affect their fire, not so much as saying more than others but either in more presentable or harmful ways.”
He guided her to sit, Danny settling nearby after a moment. The ground beneath them seemed to respond again, smoothing into a comfortable space.
“Close your eyes,” Nocturn instructed gently. “Do not suppress your thoughts. Observe them. In simple terms, when thinking of how emotions differentiate, think about how both you and the little prince act differently in situations of stress, joy or other heightened emotional states.”
Jazz hesitated, then did as told. He continued, painting a picture for her as she imagined situations between her and Danny. “In times of Joy, an ice core is most likely to just develop slight frost along their limbs, where as a fire core could cause bursts of flame around them. In times of fear an ice core would cause temperature drops. Possible freezing of the area around them, whereas a fire core wouldn’t have something as tame. To start, losing controle of flames isn’t as recoverable as a short loss of controle of ice. It take longer for ice to cause harm to living beings than it does for fire. Thats why you find thoes of fire core origines having both the most spontaneous and the most calm and controlled emotions and personalities.”
“So you must learn to keep your conscious mind more tame, more aware. It could take a long time to get the hang of it, but that’s where you need to start. Find a way to relax that mind. Weather that be imagining nothingness, a forest, a still lake, clouds or calm rain. Find what gives you that balance and calmness that isn’t forceful.”
At first, it was noisy—too many thoughts, too many sensations. The constant awareness of her core, the flicker of heat beneath her skin. Keeping her eyes closed in an attempt of meditation techniques just made her ears hyperaware.
“Breathe,” Nocturn said. “Slow. Even.” A gently cool hand touched her upper chest as she hear exaggerated slow breaths.
She followed the rhythm he set.
Gradually, the noise lessened. The previous assault on her ears began to muffle as she instead hear a gently pulsing sound, not a beat like a heart, but the steady rhythm of what she understood was her ghost core. Along with that was the quiet crackle of fire. Her hair.
Not gone—but quieter. Organised.
“Now,” he continued, voice low and steady, “focus on the flame. Not as power. As presence. Try to feel your hair without touching it, imagine it and feel it with your body and other senses other than touch.”
Jazz shifted her awareness inward. Just like meditation, she thought. Her core responded—warm, steady, the faint smell of ash greeted her nose, as she felt her head tingle as she focused on the sensation of her hair.
The usual flicker of her ghostly fire—wild, reactive—began to change.
Instead of flaring unevenly, it smoothed.
Her hair, previously shifting with each emotional spike, settled into a consistent burn—controlled, even, alive without being erratic. Almost like a tamed stray. Half lay like normal hair while the other not despite visibly still appearing like flames.
Danny blinked, watching. “Whoa…”
Nocturn’s voice remained calm. “Consistency, not suppression. Remember this feeling. ”
Jazz exhaled slowly, holding that balance.
“Work on this. More than anything, figure out this balance so that it is is an action you carry out just like walking and breathing as a human. Make it second nature so that you do noth need to be sat still and solely concentrated on this to be able to do it.” Noturns voice broke her daze, eyes snapping open.
“I must go now. You may not have realized but it has been a long time. It seems you’r brother has fallen asleep.”
Jazz snapped her head to the side seeing an unconscious danny sprawled out on his front, laying off just the side of her and a bit behind, body still like a corpse, hah seems Danny is rubbing off on me. Then she paused and looked back at Nocturn who was looking at Danny with a soft expression, before noticing jazz’s gaze and looking back at her.
“I’ll admit I did encourage his mind to relax, however I will say that I am not sorry. He clearly has needed it… Beforei leave i want to give you a work of advice.” There was a brief pause on his end which caused Jazz to unconsiously tilt her head in a curious manner.
“Be careful. And look out for the young prince. It seems he has a negatively active mind. I tried not to look, But it’s not the easiest when it is as open as a field and as loud as a siren. Take care.”
And just like that, he had left. No pleasantries, no kind regards, no time to process his words. Just left. Jazz sat there for a while staring at where Nocturn had just left. Then turned her attention to danny. Her baby brother.
God knows she’s always looking after him, alway worrying about him, always trying to make sure he feels happy and safe.
The quiet voice in her head whispering its usual serenade You are more of a parent that jack and maddie. This time she didn’t shove it away. Maybe she could just indulge that though, that maybe they didn’t need Jack and Maddie, and that Jazz was as much of Danny’s mother as she was his sister.
She moved so that she lay next to him, her hand gently brushing through his hair for a bit till she hear the tell tale sound of Danny’s core purring.
Maybe. Maybe just this once everything can be perfect. Maybe, Just maybe, we can fully relax and not have to survive instead of just live.
Warning- this is long, cross posted on Ao3 under the same title. Suggested themes of harm but nothing explicit. This will be having multiple chapters when I get to it (slow posts)
Chapter 1: Wake up I put my shirt on
“Hey Danny?”
“Yeah? What's up Sam? How can I help?” Danny lifted his head from his upside down position sat on the couch. Legs still crapped over the back and controller in hand.
His head felt heavy from hanging upside down for so long, but he didn't move. Moving meant thinking. And it was bearable.
The couch fabric scratched faintly at the back of Danny's neck where his shirt had ridden up.
“Just had a question really” she started still watching the big screen showcasing a game her, Danny and Tucker were playing. “Y'know your ghost form?”
“Yeah? What about it?” The room smelled faintly of energy drinks and whatever incense Sam had burned earlier. It should have burned their nostrils but they've spent years together.
“How come your appearance never changes? Like. When you get bad enough injuries whether as phantom or as Danny, only you as Danny scar. And they're not friendly scars. I mean. You've basically become an expert at using make up, I'd even go as far as saying I'd trust you to do mine.”
He paused. “Wow Sam. I don't know if I should feel insulted or not? And I don't know. I guess… I haven't really thought about it.”
“Hmm. She's got a point Danny” Tucker piped up from his position sat sideways on the couch, legs draped over Danny's chest. “While you scar phantom doesn't. He looks the same. Well. Not age wise, he looks to be aging, but not scaring?”
Danny paused. Seemingly thinking about it? “What if, like…” he paused again pulling himself up to be leaning on his elbows which were sat at the edge of the couch cushions. “you know how ghosts don't technically have a physical form? What if that's the same for phantom?”
“Maybe. But then what about the fact that phantom looks like he is aging? That don't make sense?” Sam responded with a pointed finger noe finally looking at Danny.
Danny was about to respond but Tucker interrupted him looking like he had an idea. “What if it's like a mental thing? Frostbite said how ghosts are able to change their appearance with practice, what if Danny is doing it unconsciously. You know? Like, imagine if you were 16 like Danny but your appearance still looked 14? You'd probably be depressed or mentally praying or something?”
“no, yeah that makes sense.” Sam replied pulling a face at Danny as if saying ‘I'm not surprised’
Danny didn't know if that was meant to offend him or not so he just rolls his eyes before continuing. “So what? I've indirectly learnt how to change my appearance so I look like I'm growing older? I mean. I guess that's cool. Heh. No yeah. I'm not surprised.”
“Me neither.” Tucker replied, almost offended by what they just deduced.
Danny shrugged like it was nothing. Like he hadn't spent years trying to look less like the kid that died in the basement. Less like the monster the scars made him look like.
“Danny. If you keep going like this your going to end up too powerful. Maybe even a king. Doubt that would end well.” Sam responded with a quiet scoff at the end smiling at the idea.
But Danny silently disagreed. Power never felt like power. It felt like survival with extra steps that attempted to kill you along the way.
“Yeah, that would be funny to watch” Tucker responded before all three of them burst into laughter.
Danny laughed with them, because that's what you do when the truth would kill the mood.
The afternoon continued like that. Idle games and chatter.
He focused on the screen. Pixels were easier to fix than bodies.
Random bursts of laughter Spread throughout the night. Banter, fun, peer pressure, blackmail photos they'll never share other than between each other.
And so on and so forth.
By the time it was late into the night, they saw the time.
“Well damn. I hate how time goes so fast during the summer holidays.”
“You can say that again, Tuck. Time is a bitch… no Clockwork I don't mean you. I meant your domain.”
A small green sticky note appeared in front of her, she plucked it out of the air and read it. “Yes, clockwork. It's because we as humans don't understand. I like you clockwork, but I don't like your domain. It's always when we want more time that we don't have it, and when we want it gone there is too much of it. Hence me saying time is a bitch.”
Danny and Tucker were now snickering, trying but failing to hide their amusement. Then another note appeared and Sam again took it and read it.
“If that's how you feel then I'm sorry. But understand that I don't hate you or think your a bitch. Besides you've helped us on so many accounts that it'd have to take a lot to make me hate you.”
After that both Danny and tuck burst into laughs while Sam sat there with a sigh, a roll of her eyes but a fond smile.
She then turned to the two other in the room slowly calming from their hysteria.
“Hey, Danny. You wanna stay the night? I know your parents have been odd lately when you came out to them.”
“No. It's fine Sam. Thank you though. I think they're managing. I mean, it's quite clear they don't like it but they're trying to deal with it I guess. Besides I have jazz. Promised her I'd come home and take her to the zone to help her manage her liminality.”
Tucker let out a short hummus at that. “Honestly man, your life's crazy. I hope jazz is dealing well with the fire. I thought I was dunzo when I called her hot headed. It was meant to be a joke honestly. Didn't think she'd take it so bad.”
“ ‘least you know not to do that again” Sam replied with a smirk.
“Uh-hu. But damn, it felt like I was being baked alive. Honestly. Cool. Very cool. But scary.”
Danny chuckled at that. “Yeah, having an older sister who has flaming hair is a neat surprise. But it's been stressful trying to figure out how to help her manage her emotions do m-mom and dad don't figure it out.”
“Personally I think it's amazing. Just accentuates her toughness.” Sam responds proudly before Tucker gave her a dead panned stare and Danny piped in.
“Sam. You can control plants. Lord help anyone who crosses your bad side. And plants are meant to be innocent.” The quick glare sent his way made him raise his hands in a placating manner. “No, no. I meant that as a good thing. Y'know. Plants are ‘innocent’ no one would expect you.”
That seemed to calm her down before she regained her composure and switchback to their old discussion. “Kay. You want anything from here before you leave?”
“I'll probably just raid your kitchen before I leave.”
“Kay. Take what you need. I've also got some echo shots hidden away if you need any?” Sam said as she stood up making her way to a poster on her wall before peeling it back.
“Yeah, probably best, been wanting one for a while. Thanks Sam.” Danny stood up with a roll off the couch, grabbing his stuff before making his way to Sam who handed him a vial of glowing green liquid which Danny opened and tilted his head back drinking it like a shot.
He recapped the vile and stuffed it in his pocket. “Tastes like a veggie sandwich with a hint of cranberry juice.”
“Hmm. Must be a vegetarian day for you then.” Tucker mumbled not meant to be headed but was.
Danny looked at him taken aback. Sam looked at Danny then Tucker a few times before settling on Tucker, “Tuck?”
The said boy looked up confused before realizing they hear his comment and let out a short ‘uhh’
Danny then piped up. “How'd you figure that?
“ oh, well… y'know.” They didn't know. Sam slowly shook her head while Danny had the expression of someone who didn't know what to feel, talking to someone who apparently knew more about him than he did himself.
“Well. There is a few reasons. Mainly you tend to crave ecto shots more when it's a vegetarian day, days or week. Then there is the fact you eat less on veggie days. And also when you have the ecto shots you either taste something healthy or vegetarian/vegan based, while on other days you tend to taste things like burgers, lasagne, cottage pie etcetera.”
“I…” Danny began after Tucker's explanation but paused again. Occasionally opening and closing his mouth a few times.
“Damn Tucker… “ Sam spoke for him.
Danny laughed weakly, like it was a joke he was supposed to understand. His stomach, however, had already turned - phantom pains and phantom smells that never really left, lingering.
“I'm gonna open that bag of worms at a later date. Not dealing with that right now. See you gays later.” Danny ended up saying in the end looking confused and conflicted.
“Yeah. Stay safe Danny. “ Sam responded still looking at a sheepish Tucker.
Danny left with an absent ‘yeah, bye’ briefly making a stop in Sam's large kitchen.
The thought of opening the fridge made his throat tighten. He didn't know why. He didn't want to know why.
The fridge light was too bright. Too clinical, holding a mixed scent of leftovers and something metallic he pretended not to notice, instead focussing on the cold air that spilled out and the white noise of the hum emanating from the fridge.
He was about to reach for the items to make veggie sandwich, and some cranberry juice then paused whispered a short ‘what the fuck’
He relented after a short debate, eventually making the sandwich. And an extra grabbing a half empty box of beetroot crackers and an off branded chocolate bar.
It was always easier to eat things that didn't bleed or need cooking. It was easier not to think about why.
He shoved the crackers and chocolate in his bag before heading into a cupboard quickly changing into phantom, flying through the walls, keeping his invisibility washed over him as he slowly flew back to Fenton works munching on his food.
Back to the homes of Jack and Madeline Fenton.
And his sister.
The taste didn't make him sick tonight. That counted as a win.
He thought back to everything they talked about that night. The jokes. The ‘what if's’. He felt guilty. He did, truly, but what could he do. He was a heavily traumatized 16 year old kid, with scars that shouldn't exist and a crown he shouldn't have but does.
He couldn't lie, he agreed with Sam and Tucker that he couldn't be a king. But he was.
Kings were supposed to be chosen. He'd just been the one who survived.
Maybe he wasn't the king just yet. But he was the crown prince.
Even ghosts had standards for age apparently. And Danny was still a baby ghost.
He died before learning how to drive and now he has a kingdom to rule. It's almost funny.
So he had Dora, Pandora, clockwork and Frostbite working a collective regent for him. But final say could still be changed by him. He tried to implement a voting system. But that would only narrow down possibilities to a smaller amount of choices when needed.
Clockwork would prevent any truly bad choices, to save timelines. Dora would act as the political face for the more older ghosts who were still hopefully for formalities. Pandora helped with actually talking to the people, a short of liaisons, and frostbite would help with management.
They called it guidance…
He called it making sure he didn't break anything else.
It worked well for him. And that's all that mattered to him. He trusted them, but it didn’t make it lighter. Every decision felt like he was diffusing a bomb only he could see.
His other guilty conscience, though, hurt a lot.
Frostbite walked up to him, papers in his skeletal arm, as the other came up to place a gently palm on his shoulder.
It wasn’t the look of a doctor. It was the look of someone measuring consequences.
“Young prince. You're not even a year old ghost. Yet you have already learnt how to manipulate your appearance.”
“What do you mean frostbite?”
Eyes looked at him as if he was piecing together pieces of a puzzle no one else knew existed.
“Ghosts. Neverborns. Ancients. And every other realms being has the ability to learn how to change their looks to their wishes. It takes a lot to learn and can be draining to some. But you have self taught yourself the skill. And by the looks of it, it is a constant thing.”Danny’s first instinct was to deny it.
His second was worse — relief.
Because if he was doing it on purpose, then maybe he wasn’t broken. Just… choosing
“How?... But why? How do you know?”
Danny started to worry. Looking into those soft understanding eyes didn't help. No. They unsettled him. As if he was being watched. No. Seen.
“The why's I don't know. The how? Well… I'm sorry to say this but the injury you got from that last fight should have left a ghosts scar. But I don't see any.”
Danny laughed at first. A short, breathless sound that didn't reach his eyes.
“Ghost scar?”
Danny didn't understand. Ghosts didn't have an actual physical body. How did that work?
“Yes. A ghost scar is when an injury you as an ecto being have received that actually impacts your body scars like any normal living. However instead it manifests a new appearance for the individual. For example my arm. It was Heald, but because it was cut off originally it Heald like this. A skeleton in ice. Functioning despite all reason.”
A pause made Danny realise something. It's like a manifestation of the mental impact…
“So… my scars they'd manifest like yours, or similarly… based on the severity.”
He didn't like that. He really didn't like that. How many injuries has he gotten?
“Yes. Here take this. Try meditating or relaxing as you are now thinking of the aim to look like your true self and your control will disappear. And with that you should also start having more energy and power as phantom.”
“... This is just a gem… never mind. Okay. Ill try what you said.”
The gem felt heavier than it looked. Like responsibility always did.
Danny did do it. But he didn't like it.
Part of him hoped it wouldn't work. That Frostbite was wrong. That he was still normal in at least one way. But in the sand, it was just his hopes. And at the end of the night he floated in front of his bathroom window staring at himself.
Denial. Grief. Fear. Hatred. All these passing through him in a matter of seconds.
The black chard skin on his hands and arms makes his skin look like over cooked chicken.
The transparent windows into his insides, glowing the bright yet dull green of his ghostly blood, sometimes the harshest of movements allowing visibility to something solid which Danny didn't want to think about.
His burned eye from the accident, now one singular sphere of green, making a mockery out of him, movement not visible but the distinct feeling of being watched still present. Even the tears bled his green.
A black serpent-like mass of a ghost tail, elongated and a dull black. It looked the most normal for a ghost. The most solid. But if you looked closer you'd see the faint outline of a skeleton. More accurately, snake skeleton.
Slightly longer, bone-ier left arm. The same one that acted as the conduit for all that electricity. The skin dull and heavily tanned in comparison to the rest of his already tanned features as a ghost, harsh, half visible, lightning-like lines spread across his left side, his chest over his heart had a cylindrical explosive like mark.
Those suggestions he didn't like at all.
All of it. He hated it. The worst was the barcode like lines on his arms.
The once invisible lines on human skin became visible. But they shouldn't be there. His ghost never got them. It was Human Danny who did them. Not Phantom.
The small but abundant lines of nothing but black. Like a void. Some bunched together enough, making a small void in his skin. Thankfully covered by his suit. But uniform and telling.
Like a scream in a silent forest.
It wasn't the damage that scared him. It was how honest it felt.
Thankfully everything covered by his suit even when he doesn't try to hide it. His full face respirator mask hiding everything, other than the things on his face.
Even when he decided to dump the old hazmat suit and replace it with more comfortable stuff he worked it around everything so it remained covered. The mask the only reminder of the original set.
He’d wanted answers. He hadn't wanted evidence.
It scared him. He hid it. Always. Leaving unblemished skin. On top of the true skin that shouldn't exist.
Control came easier than acceptance. It always had.
But it exists, and Danny lives with it. Day in and night. He just avoids his reflection, his mind couldn't be fooled by the fake reflection no matter how hard he tried. He always sees the monster not Danny or phantom. And that he can't live with.
He didn't look at mirrors much anymore. Reflections had opinions. Opinions he tried to avoid. Avoid like it was the only thing he knew how to do.
So he goes about his day like normal. Like now. Casually flying back home, finishing his last sandwich, flying past windows. He'd pass through the glass instead of looking or acknowledging.
Streetlights blurring into golden streaks beneath him as he flew past, the night air passing through him, cool and thin and not quite touchable. It was peaceful moments like this that he enjoyed the most. Somewhere below, a dog barked at nothing. He didn't check if it was him, instead kept his eyes on the rapidly approaching Fenton works.
He was about to fly down to the floor after becoming visible again, finally getting back to the home of the Fentons.
Then he spotted jazz through one of the windows pacing back and forth.
“Jazz?” Danny barely mumbled her name but before he knew it her head whipped around in that weird owl way that looked creepy on humans and marched over to the window Danny was still floating by.
In a matter of second jazz had opened the window with a great amount of force and yanked Danny in by the collar of his black cropped hoodie that he wore as phantom.
And for once, he wasn't the one shaking.
“whoa, jazz what's up?” Danny quickly de-transformed as he spoke in a loud whisper.
“Sorry Danny. I just. Worried. Stressed. You were late. Didn't answer the phone. Mom and dad are out. I panicked. I tried not to react. But I did. Now there is a black match in my room on the ceiling. And-and…”
By this point jazz was breathing heavily clearly trying to stay calm as she shook both her hands as if trying to get water off them.
“Jazz. Jazzy. Look at me. Calm. Kay? Deep breaths. Why don't you start from the top? Yeah?”
The words came out steady, practiced. He hated how familiar this felt - just from the other side.
After Danny managed to bring her down from an almost spiral, Jazz nodded, as she took a deep breath and let it go with a visible slump of her shoulders, a swift familiar movement of cracking her knuckles and fingers.
She looked up again, meeting his eyes this time more calmly but with a hint of embarrassment.
“Sorry. Just. Okay, so, you know how you were meant to come home and take me to the realms to help me work on my control?” Jazz paused waiting for some acknowledgement which came in the form of a nod from Danny. “yeah ok. So, I was okay till maybe a few hours ago. I was working on the meditation that nocturn recommended when I noticed these.”
She holds up her left hand showing the tips of her fingers a darker shade. Almost like she'd left out only her fingers to sunbath but no line, instead a smooth graduation, like his tail.
“Freaky.” Was all that can out of Danny's mouth before he could stop himself as he lifted a hand to hers to look closer.
She turned her hands. Once. Twice. Looking as if she was trying to will herself to believe they belonged to someone else and not her.
“Yeah. And also these, she used her other hand to pull back one side of her hair. At first Danny paused trying to figure out what she was trying to point out when he noticed how pointed her ears were.
Not as much as Phantoms but definitely unnaturally. “What the… ?”
“Yeah. I mean. I don't think it's new, new exactly but… I mean, it's my fault for never actually looking at my ears, but that's definitely not normal, I even checked old photos to make sure.”
By this point her hands had returned in front of her wringing out her hands in a familiar way Danny recognizes that he does the same.
“Why am I not even surprised that you checked?”
“Shut up. Anyway, after that, as you might be able to guess I panicked, maybe even over reacted, my hair did that thing where it went on fire which caused the black burn on my ceiling.” She paused looking slightly embarrassed by that exact detail.
Danny almost laughed at the irony of this whole thing. If this was overreacting, he'd been living in a constant state of emergency for years.
“Kay, so. My normally well composed older sister who definitely over works herself had a small slip in composure in a scenario where normal people would have a massive slip… That makes sense…”
“ha ha. Yeah laugh at me because I'm just funny to laugh at” she said in a very heavy sarcastic tone.
“Yes. But no. Don't twist my words. Anyways, continue.” Danny responded with a small wave of his hand.
“Well later mom and dad leave. And later after that while I was practicing some meditation techniques I realized you never told me when you'd be back or when we'd leave so I tried to call you. But you didn't answer. So I thought maybe you were just busy having fun, however I decided to call again later on. And, I kinda repeated that pattern till it became maybe like once every minute. See, with mom and dad out of the house I assumed the worst because I was already emotional.”
Guilt hit fast and deep - the old, heavy kind he carried for things that weren't always his fault.
“Oh jazz.” Danny couldn't help but show an understanding expression as he pulled her in for a quick hug. “Sorry Jazz. I think I left my phone at home, and either dead or silent. I'm sorry I worried you.”
He held her for a bit in the hug. She was warm. Almost too warm. Alive in a way he sometimes forgot he wasn't. And yet at the same time not completely alive. He held on a second longer than he meant to.
“No, no. It's not your fault, don't be sorry. I'm just overreacting.” was her response as she wiped at one eye getting rid of an abundance of tears in the corner.
“No, you weren't. Your the one who's always telling me to stop putting all the blame on myself. Now I'm telling you. It wasn't your fault. Id most definitely have reacted the same if I were you. Besides, right now your emotional walls are very weak. It's best to let things out when you can to ensure your half core grows healthy. Doctors' words. Not mine.”
He smiled softly. He smiled because it was easier than anything else. Danny finishes with a tone as if stating a matter of fact. Which he was. But it annoyed jazz nevertheless.
Jazz couldn’t hold back the soft smile, full of appreciation and worry with a lingering hint of fear. “Thank you Danny. Thank you. It’s jus, I am getting worried. I don’t want to… I don’t want to stop recognizing myself… As stupid as that sounds.” She admitted, quieter than before with fear lacing her words.
If that didn’t hit Danny where it hurt most then he didn’t know what would. The small flinch at that statement was telling. But if Danny where to guess, he’d be thankful to say Jazz was too bussy wiping away forming tears to see his non inconspicuous flinch at her words and definitely wouldn’t have seen the reaction on his face, which he most certainly schooled, and replaced it with a sympathetic look.
Danny took a slow calming breath allowing how to relax his body so he looked calm and collected with a lopsided smile as he placed one of his hands on her shoulder.
“Hey, hey. It's okay. I promise, you won't lose yourself. Just take a deep breath for me, yeah? We'll work through everything step by step. I promise you everything will be fine.”
Jazz let out a slow breath, the kind that trembled on the way out like it had to squeeze past something tight in her chest first.
Danny stayed right where he was in front of her, hand still loosely on her shoulders. Not gripping. Just there. Grounding.
“Better?” he asked softly.
She gave a small nod. “Yeah. I think so. Sorry. That was… a lot.” weather the slight tremble in her hands was a sign of still not being okay, or consequences of what was most likely a panic attack, Danny didn't know. He wasn't the one studying therapy shit.
“You’re allowed,” he said immediately. “You’re literally growing a second existence inside you. Bit dramatic of your body, honestly.” he pulled a face, shrugging one shoulder stretching one side of his mouth to give a quick fake grin. Hiding his internal grimace at the similarities of their situation.
That earned him a weak snort. Good. He counted that as progress. This time an actual small grin appeared on his lips.
They stood there a second longer before Danny stepped back and glanced toward her bed. “Sit?” he offered, feeling awkward by the sudden science while they stayed stood up in the middle of the room.
Jazz nodded again, wiping under her eyes with the heel of her hand as she moved to sit cross-legged near the edge of the mattress. Danny dropped into her desk chair backwards, arms folding over the backrest, chin resting on them.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. It was nice. Calming.
Not often they got to do this, with them being busy with all their respective problems. Main common denominator being Jack and Madeline Fenton.
The room still smelled faintly of smoke — not thick, not dangerous, just the ghost of it lingering in the air. Danny held back a snort at his own internal joke, honestly he should do stand up comedy. A black scorch mark stretched across part of the ceiling like a spilled shadow. Jazz followed his gaze up to it and grimaced.
“I’ll fix that,” she muttered.
“Or,” Danny said, “we tell Mom it’s modern art.”
She gave him a look.
“What? Very abstract. Title it ‘Teenage Angst but Make It Flammable’.”
That got a real laugh out of her, short but genuine, and something in Danny’s chest loosened.
Good. Keep it light. Keep her here. “We could even use some paints to accentuate the angst factor.” Danny smirked when this got a resigned smile out of his sister. As hypocritical as it is, Danny couldn't bring himself to believe she should have all this struggle. She didn't deserve to be scared, or miserable, or paranoid or anything negative really. She should be happy or at least content.
“Hang on,” Danny said suddenly, digging into his bag at his side. “Emergency emotional support supplies.”
Jazz raised an eyebrow as he pulled out the slightly crushed packet of beetroot crackers and the off-brand chocolate bar.
She stared. “You robbed Sam’s kitchen.” okay he did. But ‘robbed’ felt like too strong of a word.
“I prefer the term strategic redistribution of resources.”
“You took the weird crackers.” ouch. Okay yes, they are the ‘weird’ cracked. But their good. Sue him, they're not that bad.
“They were on sale,” he said defensively, talking like he's the one who bought them, already opening them. “Also they taste like cardboard with ambition. I like them.”
Jazz snorted again and took a few when he offered them. They ate in the comfortable quiet only siblings who’ve survived shared chaos can manage. Not the bickering. Not the fighting. Not the ones who finish each other's sentences. No. The type who went through similar hardships and understands each other in a way probably no one other will. Well, maybe future partners would know but that's a future then problem.
The crackers crunched loud in the still, silent room.
Danny watched her from the corner of his eye. Her shoulders weren’t up by her ears anymore. Her hands had stopped shaking. The faint dark gradient at her fingertips pulsed once, then settled.
Good. She’s stabilizing.
He broke off a piece of chocolate and handed it to her.
“Thanks,” she said, softer now.
“Doctor Fenton prescribes sugar and carbs,” he said. “Very advanced medical practice.”
“Mm. I’ll be sure to cite you in my thesis.”
“You better.” he paused. Wait. “Wait, hold on. How does sugar and carbs relate to your psychology thesis?”
Jazz looked at him. Almost as if debating something. “I could explain but I feel like it'll either go over your head or you will get distracted.”
Danny was going to argue because, rude. But then paused, took a moment to think, and yeah. “Touché.”
After a few minutes, Danny dusted cracker crumbs off his hoodie and took a breath.
Danny took a pause, a moment to think. When he got dragged into the room by his collar through the window he hadn’t had the chance to acknowledge everything that was happening.
But now he could.
When Jazz was panicking, small heat waves were forming around her. The contrast to his being a chill.
“Okay,” he said, shifting tone just a little. Not heavy. Just… purposeful. “So. Training arc.”
Jazz perked up slightly. But paused and pulled a face. “Training arc? Actually. Never mind. Ignore me. You’ve planned something.”
“Obviously. I am a very responsible ghost prince. I have spreadsheets.” Danny pulled the most proud expression he could, hands on hips.
“You do not.”
“I don’t. But I could.” He deflated instantly.
She gestured for him to continue.
Danny rocked the chair back and forth slightly as he talked, eventually settling on leaning forward on it, balancing the chair on its back two legs. “So. Mom and Dad are out late, probably overnight if the thermos count in the kitchen was anything to go by.”
Jazz made a face. Accurate.
“And,” he continued, “summer holidays. No school. No curfew anyone can enforce without admitting they lost track of us in another dimension.”
“…Good point.”
“I asked Clockwork for a training area,” Danny said with a hint of pride in his voice. “Somewhere stable, low-threat, and with a slower time ratio.”
Jazz blinked. “Slower like…?”
“Like a few days there equals a few hours here,” Danny said, trying to remember the words clockwork told him. “So we can actually take our time without Mom bursting in asking why we smell like sulfur and poor decisions.”
Jazz’s eyes widened slightly. “He agreed?”
“Yeah. Left me a very judgey sentient hourglass about it, but yes.”
She smiled faintly. “Okay… that’s actually amazing.”
“Right? So here’s the line-up.”
He started ticking names off on his fingers.
“First stop: Frostbite. Medical, control basics, core stability stuff. He’s great at the ‘don’t accidentally explode yourself’ lessons.” Danny did try to count his fingers normally, but his hypermobility just made it fun to play with his finger, so he ended up pushing each finger back further than any normal person could.
“Reassuring.” Honestly Danny couldn’t tell if that was a tone of genuine relief or sarcasm, so he settled for both.
“Then Pandora. She’s good with emotional channelling and controlled release — basically how to use strong feelings instead of letting them use you.”
Jazz nodded slowly, absorbing every word, figuring pandora would definitely be the best for that task considering her story as the living.
“Dorathea — Dora — wants to help with form control and posture and, like… royal bearing nonsense,” Danny added. “But honestly it’s good for learning how to hold yourself when your powers are active.”
Jazz gave him a sideways look. “You just don’t want to be the only one stuck in etiquette lessons.”
“Correct.”
He kept going.
“Fright Knight and Ember both offered to help with fire-core management. Ember’s good with emotional expression through flame — colour, intensity, flares. Fright Knight’s more discipline and containment.”
Jazz blinked. “That’s… a weirdly balanced duo.” Jazz and Danny both couldn’t decide how they felt about that partner up, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it.
“Ya think? Welcome to my life.”
“And after that?”
“Nocturn,” Danny said, sounding a bit reluctant but somehow hopefull.. “He’s going to teach you sleep and meditation techniques that let you rest without fully dropping your control barriers. So you don’t, y’know, set your bed on fire during a nap.”
“…I appreciate that being a goal, but also, when did Nocturn decide to start actually being a bit more civil and less ‘i want power blah blah blah’?” she said starting out dryly moving into confusion.
All Danny did was give an exaggerated shrug before moving on.
Danny smiled a little. “We’ll go at your pace. If anything feels like too much, we stop. No pushing past your limits just to impress ghost royalty, okay?”
Jazz’s expression softened. “Okay.”
He hesitated a fraction of a second, then added lightly, “Plus, it gives me an excuse to check in on everyone without them staging an intervention about my work habits.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Danny.”
“I’m kidding.”
She kept looking.
“…Mostly kidding.”
But he was smiling, and it didn’t look forced.
“Does that plan sound okay?” he asked.
Jazz took a slow breath, then nodded. “Yeah. It does. It actually… makes me feel a lot better.”
“Good,” he said, relief threading through the word.
They packed up quickly after that. Jazz tied her hair back tighter than usual. Danny slung his bag over his shoulder.
They moved through the house quietly, lights off, steps memorized from years of sneaking snacks and avoiding ghost-hunting parents. He instinctively walks slightly behind her at first, then forces himself to walk beside her instead.
Halfway down the hall, Danny suddenly held an arm out to stop her.
“What?” she whispered.
He pointed downward.
A faint green light blinked near the baseboard. Small. Almost invisible.
“…Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.
“New sensor?” Jazz asked.
“Yep. Dad must’ve installed it this morning.”
Danny crouched, pulling a small screwdriver from his pocket like this was a completely normal thing to carry.
Jazz crossed her arms. “You just have that?”
“Jazz. I live here. You can’t tell me you don’t carry random tools on you most of the time.”
Fair.
He popped the casing open, carefully snipping one wire and rerouting another.
“Okay,” he murmured. “Now it thinks we’re houseplants.”
“…That doesn’t make sense.”
“Neither do half our lives. Roll with it.”
The light flickered, then went dark.
Danny gave her a thumbs up. “We are officially classified as Ficus.”
“Thrilling.” she said while staring blankly at the sensor then to Danny.
They slipped down the basement stairs after that, the familiar hum of the lab growing louder.
The portal roared to life in a wash of green light as they opened the doors that were covering the hole in the wall which lead to a different dimension..
Danny glanced at Jazz. “Ready?”
She nodded, jaw set but eyes steady.
“Stick close,” he said, and stepped through with her right behind him.
The temperature shifted instantly — cooler, thinner air, charged with that electric, almost metallic tang unique to the Zone.
The sky stretched above them in swirling greens and distant streaks of violet lightning. Floating islands drifted lazily in the distance. The ground beneath their feet glowed faintly through cracks like bioluminescent veins.
Jazz sucked in a quiet breath.
Danny looked at her — and paused. To start, small flames flickered in the cracks of the ground where they stood, when her emotions spiked with her quiet gasp.
The change rolled over her gently, like the Zone recognizing her, while his body snapped into his own unique ‘Phantom’ look.
Her hair lifted halfway first, rising as if caught in warm updraft burning the hair tie she used to tie up earlier. Strands blurred, edges flickering into flame — deep oranges and golds near the roots, fading into streaks of electric blue at the tips. The colours pulsed softly, reacting to her breathing.
Her skin warmed a shade darker, a sun-touched tone that mirrored Danny’s own ghost complexion. The gradient at her fingers deepened into visible black fading at the tips, like cooled embers and in the same way his ghostly tail does and how his left arm does when he doesn’t hide himself.
Her ears tapered subtly into points, yet again, like his own.
Her eyes shifted last — sclera darkening into inky black while her irises glowed a rich, steady purple while her lashes turned a bleached white like his hair and yet her eyebrows contradicting the rest of her hair colours and remained a clear black.
Her clothes barely changed, but the teal in her iconic headband deepened into violet, and her jeans took on the same muted purple tone, like the Zone had simply… recolored her to match the theme of different colour pallets.
Danny grinned.
“Okay,” he said. “That is extremely cool, we even look related - with me as phantom. Your freckles are glowing too, just like mine… just yours look more amber while mine a green.”
Jazz looked down at herself, flexing her fingers. Small flickers of flame danced between them, harmless, controlled.
“You think?” she asked. Small embers drifted lazily around her like fireflies occasionally blending in with her hair.
“Yeah,” he said. “Very ‘mysterious fire guardian of the void.’ Ten out of ten.”
She rolled her eyes — and lightly smacked his shoulder.
Her hair flared brighter red for a split second, flames shooting higher.
“Okay okay!” he laughed, holding up his hands. “See? Emotional colour coding! Very educational.”
She huffed, then visibly took a breath, and the flames softened back to their usual warm glow.
“…Still working on that,” she muttered.
“You’re doing great,” he said easily. “Okay, first before we do anything. Rule one f ghost training: If it hisses, floats, or whispers your full name - Don’t touch it…”
And he meant it. She was doing better than he did when he started out.
As a second after thought, he realized something. The air near Danny felt cool and thin. While the air near Jazz felt warmer, like standing near Sam's fireplace in winter. It pulled him in, promising comfort.
He stepped closer and held out his hand.
“C’mon,” he said, smiling — not forced, not hiding, just… brother. “Let’s go. I’ll lead the way.”
Jazz took his hand.
And together, they started flying across the glowing landscape toward the distant ice spires where Frostbite waited, Danny talking the whole time about which ghosts had the worst tea, which ones cheated at board games, and why Ember absolutely could not be trusted with playlist control, occasionally making bad ghost puns to keep her distracted.
For a little while, he wasn’t thinking about mirrors.
Just his sister’s hand in his, warm and real, and the sound of her laughing beside him as the Ghost Zone opened wide ahead of them. Jazz’s flames cast light that doesn’t quite follow physics - shadows stretched. And beside her. Danny’s glow reflecting faintly on surfaces like moonlight on water.
Jazz squeezing his hand tighter when they passed a darker area, asking questions, pulling herself closer. Maybe this would bring them a chance to spend some great sibling bonding time together.
In regards to the post where I put up a pole, asking what to post.
I promise I will post it.
Just taking a while to edit it.
Especially after realizing I had two similar fics half written - just like half different.
So yeah. One is more cliche DC x DP and all that with older Danny, whereas the other has more world building and found family and shit, with younger Danny, more ancients and ancient Danny.
I'mma try and get the first chapter posted for the more 'cliche' one first, hopefully by next week. The other will take more time cus I've got so much world plot and drafts I need to read through it to even begin to comprehend where my mind went.
Ill say this. I honestly wasn't expecting all the attention I've received on this so thank you(even if its not a lot a lot) ? And I've been going through shit still am but felt like I should at least post something so yay. (＾ｖ＾).
One problem idk what so I'mma give you some options.
They are either a dp x dc crossover or marvel x dc crossover or mix of these. And all either have a first part fully writen out or half way done. So take you pick I guess.
There is a pole at the end to let me know which I should work on posting first.
Might cross post on Ao3. MIGHT. Keyword.
1-DPxDC, self hating Danny / eldritch Danny. Where all the scars and major injuries that Danny receives impacts the appearance of his ghost form and already hidden away from humans for a few years. Ghost king Danny where he gets summoned by JL. But Danny has learned how to put a glamour/illusion over his appearance to not scare people and so that he doesn't have to look at himself. Constantine and Zatana see this and mentions it so B-man demands he reveals his true so Zatana forcefully undoes it while Constantine feels conflicted. Chaos and trauma ensures. Trauma, fluff, kind Constantine, likeable Diana prince, redemption Superman, Danny and Billie friendship, Batman bashing and GIW being burnt to the ground before dissapearabce, destabilize Danielle, redeemed Dante, bamf jazz and Fenton parent bashing.
2-MARVELxDCxDP. Biological father dick Grayson, but Danny and Peter a twins. Danny lives in the marvel universe, gets his powers a year earlier than cannon, leaves home after 15 because of danger and new found truths of his birth. He goes searching and ends up in NYC finding out aunt may is also his Aunt and Peter is his twin. Danny starts remembering things before he lived in Amity. But Danny is just as self sacrificing as Peter and they end up finding out each others identities. And start to work together. Then the dusting happened. And they both wake up in Gothambrcause if a cult summoning. Bats intervene but everyone is confused. Chaos and conflict follows. Bamf Peter and Danny. Trauma and fluff. Mistrust. Trust issues. Uncle Jason privileges. Damian approves. Duke is a gremlin in disguise. Tim is a good friend.
3- alien Marvel x DC. MARVEL Universe is like an alien version. People are are a human hybrid between done kind of animal, insect, arachnid, amphibian etc. Some are fully 'human's but not a big percentage. Traumatized Peter Parker, Natasha Romanov, and Bucky Barnes form an adoptive two spider one wolf family. Something happens and they wake up in a cave system near gotham, they encounter the Batman who thinks they are some type of aliens. This also involves a wild deaf Clint Barton and responsible Sam Wilson joining their journey as "fake father figures" for the 3. However, Batman hears them speaking Russian so they then assume they might be metas instead. They get caught and imprisoned, however individual traumas lead to then breaking the walls of their cells to rejoin as a group. Long story of trauma and found family between 5 animal human AU hybrids in a different world. 2 adult birds, 1 wolf and 2 spriders. Sam being the least traumatized and most sane and responsible. Trauma, aliens, found family, lots of trauma, Bruce bashing, dick and Jason are on good terms, healing Jason,
4- DC x DP. A Danny Fenton/phantom x Damian Wayne fic. Where Danny is clockworks child, half human Danny since birth. Danny knows, and CW tells him that because he is half human he needs time out of ghost zone. So they create Danny Fenton the adopted brother/son. Sam and Tucker don't know about phantom being Danny, ghost name rules where the family name isn't shared freely and only say first and middle names as a "full name". When 4 year old Danny was about to be sent to humans RA's summons CW who's holding Danny and proposes a marriage contact for the kids, but CW is protective so doesn't immediately and only says he'll agree if the kids do so Danny ends up staying at the league till age 6 and the boys agree. Danny gets sent to original plan with the Fenton, then gets the 'accident' at age 12 spreading up his health. Danny and Damian stay in touch before years later when their 16 Danny returns to the ghost zone. Chaos occours. The marriage is revealed, families meet and truths come out. Baby ancient Danny. Marriage contracts. Bamf Danny and Damian. Protective bat family. Teenage Damian and Danny. Large miss understandings follow
5- DC x DP. Twins brothers Danny and Constantine. Theyve been outcasts their whole child hood, but they were smart. Essentially creating a black market of information in their town from a young age to pSs by with money when their deadbeat of a father didn't do shit. The towns folk always warned tourists or passer bys to steer clear as they'd leave you broke in many ways than one if you weren't a local who knew how they worked. There would always be an incident. Everyone knew they lived money, but no one knew why. When they were 10 is when they did their first but of magic. Accidentally summoning CW who revealed a lot. Taught them a lot. And helped a lot. But the JL doesn't know about Danny. Why would they. Constantine was a sneaky sleezbag. At least that's what he made them think. Constantine and Danny were a sneak bunch. Trickery. Magical Constantine and Danny. Twins Danny and Constantine. Constantine isn't a soul whore. But he is a soul con man. Semi imortal Danny and Constantine. Mentor ClockWork.
6- DP x DC. young Danny. Stuck in the ghost realm as everyone passed and he became king. One problem. Him being in the realms stopped his ageing process. And he didn't have a way to leave. Stuck as a 12 year old for he doesn't know how long. Alone and miserable. Then one day he getts a summoning finally allowing him to return to earth. But then he finds out that it's been 10 years. So, Danny puts on his big boy pants and trys to act like the adult he's pretending to be in front of the league. Little does he know though, is that his sister and 2 best friends are stuck in limbo trying to get to the infinit realms and that so much has changed since his disappearance. Mentioned hurt and trauma. Misunderstandings. Stupid JL. smart Constantine. Puppy Superman. Worst timing possible. 'Immortal' friends phantom and captain marvel. Mentioned time travel.
7- FP x DC. Where an accident happens. And Fenton works blows up. But Danny protests jazz, Maddie and jack. Jack and Maddie learn the truth from Sam and Tucker, and jazz. Theyre conflicted but realize their wrong. However Danny isn't dead. Just a small baby. Ghost baby to be precise. Casper high finds out the truth and the whole town works together and takes down the GIW. they get brutalized and now Amity park is home to a small baby ghost who acts more feline than human and more reptilian than expected. Theres a debate. The ghosts don't attack, instead use their urges to teach combat to the "squishy humans" and live normally. However chaos ensures when one rouge angry agent from the GIW kidnaps Danny. But he escapes. But he gets lost. But he's a baby, he doesn't know what to do. Thankfully the big soft, burly red headed guy takes him in and looks after him. Meanwhile his family is going on a US tour trying to find their lost baby. Family meaning Casper high and family. Little baby man Danny. Jason Todd adopts Danny. Jason Todd starts healing. Emotionally constipated bat family. Jack and Maddie are trying. Protective Amity park.
Let me know which one you'd want to see first as honestly I have no clue do best ask the audience. Ill leave the options open for a week.
which one first
1- DP X DC Eldritch danny
2-MCU X DP X DC Father Dick
3-MCU X DC Alien found family
4-DP X DC Danny x Damian marriage contract
5-DP X DC The Constantine twins
6-DP X DC trapped young danny
7-DP X DC Little Baby Man adventures
Voting ended onJan 14
Ps: I'm ignoring my Tumblr drafts because I might cry from looking at all the 31 I have saved and not done anything with other than a few sentence ideas I jotted down. 🙃
So, this is not a fixc prompt or anything. But a question. I was just trying out some makeup looks for a Halloween costume. And I'm having a dialema.
So, I didn't wanna waste money on a costume so I'm using my wardrobe to put together a Gothic look with a bit of 'witchiness' (dont come at me idk how else to describe it)
And I was trying out some stuff with my eyeliners.
I was using a water activated one, and as I was putting it on my lashline , my hand did that occasionally twitch or jerk that one gets, and I got it half on my water line and half in my eye.
It didn't hurt or anything as it is EYEliner and water based so I was just like 'oh, well fuck me. Looks like I'mma have to try again later'
So I went to rinse out the excess eyeliner from my eyes with plain tap water.
Got most of it off and was about to go for my makeup remover when I look in the mirror and find that that shit looks a lot better than it did before.
The best I could describe it was as a smudged under eye eyeliner kind of look but more like it doesn't look fake, and more like 'oh yeah It was drizzling and I also cryed half my mascara off'
Now, I don't even wanna wash it off. But I wanna know, is there anyway to get this look on purpose? Without sticking eyeliner in my eyes cus now my tears are black and I'm trying to force cry to get it out but it still keeps coming.
Could rly use some opinions. Or ways to get a better makeup look with not just the eyeliner especially from thies who do goth makeup more often than me.
Okay, so before I start, I have a few things to say.
1-WTF
2-sorry I ghosted you
3-AGAIN WTF?!?!
I mean. I know I disappeared and all. But I'll be straight with you I didn't start posting expecting 80 followers, or even one of my posts reaching hundereds. So rly. Thank you. Thats made me have a large boost in self esteem which I genuinely needed.
And to long story short- I have a bad habit of avoiding social media (any and all) when I feel shit, overwhelmed, busy, depressed, or distracted by a new ADHD fixation. So yeah.
However I have gotten along on writing some of the fics I have planned out so I might start posting them? Anyway, enjoy this, and again. Thank you.
Soulmates AU but DC and DP are in different worlds.
'Soul mate finder'
Its been a good few years since Danny had died, and he's now a fully fledged 18 year old. Who is also a crown prince to an entire dimension. Whos from a destroyed world. Who's the only true halfa in existence (that they've met so far). Whos somehow become the parent of his clone and dealer reformed evil self. Who has an older sister who followed him to the ends of the earth(quite literally in their case). Who has two best friends who are very suicidal and protective when it came to him.
So yeah. Danny is actually doing quite well needless to say. Yes, his earth is gone. But that happened a few years back so he's gotten over it. And he's got everything and everyone he loves right there with him. Well. Except for his soulmate. But Danny has made mends with that. Sorta.
He won't lie when he sees Sam and Tucker so happy together he feels jealous. But at least his sister can relate. So he's not all alone.
So the most you'll get out him is the occasional mumble of wanting to find his soulmate. So que one bad day of feeling down in the dumps. A badly timed conversation with his sister where he says "it's not like I can fetch my soul mate" and a very eager puppy who loves to fetch.
*meanwhile, in DC universe* (say it in Spongebob voice :3)
"Uhhh. Tim. I think you've got something there. Like. It's very green. And. Puppy shapped..."
"Yeah no shit. Thanks for pointing it out 𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙠"
"... I can't tell if you were saying that as my name or as the insult"
"Hey, Timbo. Isn't bringing strays home the demon brats job?"
"I didn't bring him home. He won't leave me alone. He just won't stop following me!"
"Huh. Whelp, not my problem, see ya Timberly."
-
To say the least, Tim was confused as fuck. He doesn't know where the dog came from, or who's it is. He checked the collar and all it said was "CUJO- there is a reason for the name" as ominous as that sounded, Tim couldn't find anything put of the ordinary other than the fact the dog was clearly a meta dog. What else could he say. The dog was green. Glowed slightly. Went through a couch and had enough strength to drag a screaming Dick across the carpet with little effort.
However it was ear the dog was young and really enjoyed to play. Especially fetch games. He was really good at that. But then as the weeks went on. They started to notice something.
"Hey, Tim? Havent you nothing- that the dog always does something..."
"What do ya mean dick head? Whats the dog always doing?"
"Yeah dick. I think I know what you mean."
"I don't. Fill me in please? Ever head of a penny for a thought?"
"I mean. Okay, think about it jason. The dog always seems to do something specific. I mean. When he goes to Tim he always goes to suffer him first, barks then bumps his head into him. And it's always on his left side too."
"Huh. Now that ya mention it. Yea. I have seen that happen."
"The manner of that, is like a dog exclaiming that they've found something."
"JESUS! BRAT! Id rather not have and after, after life thank you very much."
"Damian is right. I started researching it when I noticed Cujo would always do the same thing to me and no one else."
"Why the left tho? You got a secret on your left Timmy?"
"No, not that I'm aware off?"
"No... But ya know what you do have on your left?"
"Jason... That grin is slightly unnerving. What have you found out about me that even I don't know?"
"Your soul mate mark is what."
"... It can't be. Can it?"
"Why don't we test it? Jason's got a point baby bird."
"... Fine."
-
To say that Tim was miserable at Jason figuring it out first was an understatement of the year. However finding out went something like this.
"He Cujo. Heyyy buddy. Whos a good dog"
𝘽𝙖𝙧𝙠
"If this what you keep sniffing out? My soul mark?"
Tim points to the mark on his shoulder and arm, it was reminiscent to what looked like a spikey band of some sort wrapped around his upper portion of his bicep which kind of looked like a really stretched out bat symbol they used, then lightning like marks crawling up to his shoulder and stopping there.
Cujo sniffed it the barked loudly before liking it and barking like a dog who's found a dinosaur bone.
This gave them confirmation that the dog had something to do with his soul mate. And to day Tim was getting more hopeful than he has in years was an understatement. After all, it was rare people got to find their soul mates. But when they did everyone who had, had explained it like it was a fairytale dream come true.
So when Tim got excited and started talking to cujo as if he understood, no one judjed him.
"You know my soul mTe? Cujo, you know where they are? Can you tell me? Or take me? Or bring them? Or something? Can you help me find them?"
And that last question is what got cujo moving. And what made them find out cujo could also make portals.
Cujo wasn't a fully trained dog but he knew quite a lot of Comanche words, like fetch, sit, role over, play, walk, and find. There are more but these were the ones guaranted to work.
-
"CUJO! where have you been! We were looking for ages and- wait. Cujo? What are you doing? Wait. Cujo! Do! Put me down! Cujo!"
The following events went like this.
Cujo, grew to his large form capturing Danny in his jaw as he went barreling through the castle cat Bing the attention of dan, Ellie, jazz, Sam and Tucker who all started to Chace them.
Cujo of course opens a portal and charges through it dropping Danny covered in slober onto the living room carpet of the Wayne manor. Then proceeded to drench Danny in wet kisses as he layed on the floor face first groaning in misery as Tim Dick Jason and Damian found out that Cujo was now almost as big as their living room
"Cujo... Why..." Danny whined as he pushed himself off the floor slowly standing up as cujo sit of to the side proudly like he was presenting his findings.
Danny finally manages to stand up only to get the wind knocked out of him as a person crashes into him. One glance told him it was Dan as cujo hadn't closed the portal yet, so he sits up with a groan to then get a face full of Ellie who barreled through the portal screaming like bloody murder except it was his name.
The only thought Danny had was 'this is gonna bruis.' So imagine his misery when he pushes the dizzy dan and Ellie off of him as he is half way stood up when his sister and two best friends come flying at him, not just knocking the wind out of him, but also throwing him back some distance from the sheer force of impact.
And while he lay there struggling to get a breath in staring at the normal not ghost zone looking ceeling, his sister and best friends pushed themselves off the floor yelling his name.
"Danny!"
"Danny!"
"Danny!"
"Danny! Are you okay? What happened? Why was cujo running off like that? And why where you in his mouth? Is something wrong?" Jazz spewed out like the mother hen she was. And all Danny could get out was a suffering groan.
"... I think I just saw his soul leave his body via mouth anime style."
"Not now tuck. We need to make sure hes okay."
"Yeah. By saying that, I mean I dont think he is considering he just had three human people throw their full body weight at him unexpectedly, while we were flying at God knows what speeds. That ain't gonna end well no matter how durable he is."
After Tucker finished his explanation Danny let out a pained wheez almost on que to back up his point.
"Can, I jus' say. We were not expecting this. Also two kids got their (?) At him before you guys too, so that's definitely be a double whammy." Jason spoke up bringing everyone's attention to the fact that the room was full with people they didn't know and half the group wasn't in the dimension they were earlier.
And almost like the univers wanted to spite Danny, cujo decided that it was the perfect time, right then and there to jump onto Danny yet again knocking the air out of him and this time making him half pass out.
It took the next 4 minutes for all of them to get cujo away from Danny and help Danny into a comfortable position where he spoke up, voice full of pain.
"I think I saw my parents..."
"No! Dude! Stay with us! You ain't dying on us yet!..." Tucker yelled.
And Sam couldn't help but add. "Well. Not again at least" which got a suffering laugh out of Danny as jazz took the Initiative to ask the new people where they were and if they knew why they were there.
Which led to a whole explanation on how things to go this point. Danny slowly gaining awareness. And finally speaking although weakly.
"So.let me get this straight. For some reason cujo went looking for my soul mate. Found em, stayed with em. And they didn't realise till today, which lead to me getting the wind forced outta me by the full body weight of two kids, 1 adult, two pre adults and an oversized giant dog... Ugh.... I don't even know what to think Im in so much pain..."
"Well i mean, at least you found your soul mate. You have always been sad you couldn't find them." Ellie responded now playing with his hair.
"Yeah. My soul mate... Wait. May soul mate! "
"EEEYUP. There it is" Sam hated nonchalantly at his realization as Danny sat up too quickly making him collapse from vertigo and pain. Letting out a long pained groan mixed with a whine.
Tim still reeling from confusion promptly chimed in.
"I don't know whether to be concerned, scared, happy or all three."
What if: we combined 'little shit Danny' who looks like one of the bat kids, and Bruce running oon little to only 8 hours within the last 4 days.
Batman going home from patrol, having had only 8 hours if sleep withing the last 4 almost 5 days because of patrol, Work, galas and business meetings back to back.
Also batman, running into Danny sitting on a roof eating a sub sandwich.
Batman: what are you doing here. Your meant to be at home. Your benched remember. *heavy sigh* whatever I'll just take you back myself.
Danny: huh? Wait-what? No side, I think your mistaking me-
Batman: up we go. Home time. Then I'm gonna make sure your going to bed then me or else penny one is gonna have my head.
- - - -
Danny in the Batcave with a de cowl'd batman, revealing Bruce Wayne's face. Danny still eating his sandwich as Batman aka Bruce lectures him about properly watching your health and injuries especially with a missing spleen, which told Danny that whoever Bruce/Batman thought he was, was missing a spleed.
Danny quickly sensing a message to his sister jazz letting her know he's sorta been kidnapped by a new Fruitloop and activates his tracker.
Jazz: OMW
Also jazz- sprinting to Danny's location across roofs with a creep stick in hand and her eyes slowly starting to glow because of her liminality.
Tim walking down into the Batcave not long later but then pausing eyes directly on Danny as they have a stare off.
Tim: uhhh. B?
B looking at Danny thinking he spoke: hmm?
Tim: B...
B slightly confused: how are you talking. Your mouth isn't moving?
Danny still chewing on his sandwich lifting his hand and pointing to Tim behind Bruce.
Que Bruce looking back and forth between Tim and Danny, eyes squinted as he tries to clear his bleary eyes.
B: but. Your sat here. But your also stood there... What?
Tim: B. That's not me...
B looking at Danny: then who's this?
Tim: HOW AM I MEANT TO KNOW?!
Danny: Hi. I'm the kid you kidnapped, most likely thinking I was your son. But I'm not. And now I know that Batman is Bruce Wayne. Which honeatly. Did not see that coming. I owe Wes sooo much money... Oh god, I can't let Wes know. I'mma be broke. More than I already am...
Then you have Tim and Bruce stood there confused out of their minds as they slowly realise what's happened. Then Tim leave to go get Alfred leaving Bruce and Danny still in the cave.
Not long later jazz shows up running down one of the long entrances/exits for the vehicles holding the creep stick panting, out of breath, and then running up to Bruce about to swing.
B: Babs? Is that you? But. Your walking... Your legs are better. Oh I'm so happy. It's amazing. Your better again. Your dad must be so happy.
Also B- going up to a stunned frozen jazz and hugging her.
Jazz: huh?
Danny: I think he's either concussed or just mentally unwell. Or both. Who knows.
B: your standing again. It's amazing. It's-
Tim who just came down stairs with Alfred: B... What did you do now...
B turning around with a slight smile: TIM! It's Barbra. She's walking again! It's amazing!
Tim: B... That's not Barbra...
B: what? But...
Alfred with the most disappointed look known to man kind: Master Bruce. Miss Barbra is still in the library helping the other still on patrols.
B:... Then who...
Alfred : master Bruce. I'd advise you go to bed before you make more mistakes, you have already exposed your identity. Now, if you do notgo to bed within the next 10 minutes I will personally prevent you from patrolling. I have already been lenient these last 5 days.
B: but-
Alfred: NOW.
B: yup. Bed. Going. Got it.
The following minutes are filled with silence as Bruce hurries to get out of his costume and up the elevator all while Alfred follows him with his gaze alone.
Jazz: huh?
Danny grinning: turns out Batman is Bruce Wayne.
Jazz looking frazzled, confused and still holding her creep stick as if she's gonna swing: wha...
Alfred:my apologies. It appears master Bruce isn't in the best state of mind due to a lack of sleep. Would you like some tea? How may I address you two?.
Jazz: I uhh... Yeah. Tea...
Danny: I'm Danny. This is my sister, Jazz.
Alfred: very well, master Danny, miss Jazz. I will bring some tea shortyl, I hope master Tim is able to get you comfortable while you wait.
Tim: sure thing Alfie.
Following this you get Tim leading Danny and Jazz to a sitting area in the cave, then Alfred coming down with a tray of tea, and decaf coffee for Tim.
Tim proceeds to explain to the two that they were mistaken as him and a family friend who is similar to a sibling due to similar appearances.
Later on Dick, Jason and Steph walk into the cave before freezing realizing that there are civilians and they've take off their masks. They proceed to try and replace them before Tim stops them and tells them Bruce had already messed up.
Tim, Danny and Jazz explain what happened which leads them to bursting in laughter.
- - - -
Jason: wait. I get how Danny got in here. But, how did you get in here?
Jazz: oh... Well, Danny keeps a tracker on his phone in case of emergency that let's me know where he is when he activates it.
Jason: okay, fair. But that still doesn't explain how you got in here, because the exits are all blocked off or unaccesible because they're through the manor.
Jazz: oh, I just followed his tracker, realized he was somewhere that isn't available on foot so I just started phasing through the wall till I got in that tunnel.
Jason: you what?
Jazz: I phased through the wall.
Danny: Jazz... I think your for getting something...
Jazz: what?
Danny: normal people don't phase through walls...
Jazz: what do you- oh. Oh, fuck.
Danny: yeah.
Dick: well... That's cool. We've got metals in here. Duke's gonna be happy. He should be coming down in a few hours to start patrol too.
Duke: nope, already here. I noticed no one had come upstairs yet other than Bruce and got curious.
Steph: HOLY SHIT! Don't sneak up on us like that!
Duke: are you guys really metas? What can you do? I can control light and shadows.
Steph: hey don't just ig-
Jazz: well. Yeah I guess we count as metas, because that category is broad anyway. I can phase through stuff, have increase strength, and emotionally affected fire hair, glowing eyes and fangs, and mild pyro-kinesis.
Duke: swe-heet. What about you dude?
Danny: oh well, strength, fly, invisibility, intagibility/phase through shit, glowing,ice powers... And yeah. That's the basics, yeahthere is more but that other stuff. ... I'm less meta more half human though. So..
Duke: cool~
Dick: hey, why do you guys call it phasing and not density shifting. Isn't that the same?
Jazz: well not exactly. Density shifting is the act of being able to manipulate your density to a molecular level so that you can pass through the molecules of another object. However, it can be blocked with a night dense material.
Danny: whereas phasing is essentially the act of going momentarily intangible while maintaining your density, or more accurately control ably not just momentarily.
Steph: ... Yeah that's too much words for me.
Dick: basically, density shifting -you can still be touched and blocked by some stuff and change how physical you are on the tiny scale. Phasing- you ignore laws of science to not be able to be touched and ignore how thick something is. Right?
Okay, so, I've read a few ideas I've loved where Danny is some sort of babysitter one way or another. Again I've loved them all.
Now que my insomniac ass awake at 4:32 am, due to start work in 3 hours, getting an idea myself where Danny is a babysitter kind of thing. But it's a dead tired idea. Now, before you think about the age gap, this will involve clockwork and his time shenanigans. So while Danny will be a teen as a babysitter and Tim a kid. Time shenanigans related. Turns out Tim and Danny are actually in the same age group, but tTim is just a year older :3
- - - -
"Phantom. My boy. I have a request for you, I would like you to go back in time and look after a young boy for at least 2 possibly 3 or 4 years. I'll make sure your age doesn't increase. And I will owe you a debt for this."
Danny froze. Of course he did. I mean, he'd have helped anyway, but to be able to have an ancient of time indebted to you? That's like. Waw. And he gets a minimum 2 year break from fighting every waking minute. But that just made it sketchy. "What's the catch?"
Clockwork just shakes his head, "no catch my boy. Just a wish to prevent a tragic end. There are only a small hand full of good outcomes that will come from how this boy grows. And only one of that small group is with no outside interactions. If this boy were to down a dark path. So would the dear lady, her people and everyone around."
Again with the cryptic shit. Where he gives you an answer but it's not clear and you need to think or be a genius to figure out the words he's leaving out. Why did time have to be so god damn fragile. Like, even the family of speedys can bend and break it by just running.
Danny could confidently say that the family of speedsters was both the most and least favourite of hero's to clockwork. And a cause for most of his pain when having to deal with time quests for CW.
"Fine. But I get to call in that debt when I want. So what am I doing?"
Of course, CW half explained things, but Danny got the jist. At least he thinks so.
Baby sit a kid who could become the death of thousands, possibly millions. Show him love, make sure he's safe and just enjoy.
And now?
Now, Danny was in the filthy rich aide of the most crime ridden city of America.
But a few years in the past.
Woohoo....
Danny, being a paranoid duck, decided to just watch for a bit and see what's he's working with. And it's wasn't great.
Neglectful parents. Stupid parents. Suicidal child with no regard to safety. A child with understanding of love. Doesn't know what love is. Has severe starvation from physical touch, attention and emotions which he doesn't even realize.
But one thing he does find out.
The kid he's babysitting? Is a child of bad dayum billionaires. Billionaires who wouldn't hire a babysitter because apparently their 5 year old son, is old enough to fend for himself now while they disappear for months at a time.
...
So of course Danny dis the only logical thing possible.
He became the boys ghost babysitter. The one the parents thought was an Imaginary friend and punishes their child for being so 'childish'
Danny- I WONDER WHY ASSHOLES.
So the kid stayed quiet about Danny but they still talked. Danny cleaned, Danny played, Danny helped, Danny even learnt how to cook for the little boy.
The little boy he came to learn was called tim.
Or more precisely TIMOTHY DRAKE. SOON TO BE TIMOTHY DRAKE-WAYNE. HOLY FU-
no Danny. There are kids here. Watch your language.
So Danny did that. For a good two years. He cooked food for rim, cleaned, set his bed, did laundry, taught Tim how to garden and look after plants, how to fight how to use a boe staff, a sword and a few other wepons. Wepons he only knew how to use thanks to Pandora
He even helped Tim with school while somehow still doing his own studies. It turns out when you aren't getting ambushed every hour, you can actually learn alot.
Especially when you have a child genius by your side who seems to be in the same mental age of a high schooler and not the 6-7 year old he is.
Danny found out so much about Tim. His love for photography, physical activities, skateboarding, using a boe staff. Tim loved the colours green and blue. And loved octopuses. Tim, somehow knew what coffee was too.
And that concerned Danny. So he tried to hide it.
But that didn't work.
So instead he bargained. Max one coffee with half an espresso worth of caffeine in it per day as a max. In return, no bedtime schedual as long as he's not a zombie and can function and can get a minimum of 6 hours per night on school nights.
They even had a God damn contract. But it woked. And life continued.
2years passed. And Danny got his green envelope from CW. Tim instantly thought he was leaving because Danny was honest from day one, that he'd have to leave but he'd at least spend 2 years with him. Max 4.
Then Danny opened it, and while Tim stood there defeated thinking he'd lose Danny, Danny turned around with a bright smile. "Well will ya look at that. I'mma stay for another good two years. Ya ain't gettin rid of me that easy."
And Tim? Yeah, Tim was overjoyed. His best friend, best buddie got to stay for another year. Tim ignored the warm fuzzy feeling he got in his chest which a 7year old shouldn't have by any means at all. Besides Danny was about 13 years older than him.
Another two years passed. A unique exploration of different cuisines, teaching Tim how to cook some basics. Danny learning how to play the piano. Tim learning some martial arts styles. Growing fruit treats, Berry bushes and some other things, especially flowers.
And a special plant. An infinity realms plant. One that would change between blue and green, would glow slightly and had mild sentience.
Danny gifted it to Tim on his last day, as a parting gift, telling him that the plant will only respond positively to him and Danny because he infused some extra echo into it to recognize them.
But in those two years Danny also started studying some collage level books by himself, learnt some defensive combat styles, he learnt so much.
But especially, he learnt how to love someone. Before you say anything, before Danny returned to his time Danny just saw Tim as a kid he looked after. But when he returned and saw Tim on the news, his heart would flutter. That had never happened before. And he had a whole closet case, and gay panic session that spanned over a good half year.
But Danny feels morally conflict by these feeling. I mean. He basically raised the kid for 4 years because his parents wouldn't. Well. He ain't rly a kid anymore. But, that's besides the point.
He probably doesn't even remember Danny and just thinks he was an Imaginary friend.
Meanwhile. Tim, in Gotham, researching a fake government organization that is giant against the Meta rights act for being they call 'ecto-entities' which, both Satan and Raven confirmed are actual beings from a different realm that's connected to every dimension. Heck, even Constantine said the same thing, and he's the best of the best. His description was - like the stitches that hold the dimensions together, that aren't right so that you can easily accessible the other side of the stitches but not so loose that they aren't connected, but that point were it's lose but still closes the gap and holds all the important things like blood and insides within it. And the blood and internal organs in this case would be stuff like different after life's, before life's and limbo and limbo equivalent.
So now, Tim was working with Duke and Jason to do investigative work on these excto-beings which are being hunted by the idiotic mis Ecto-Soginistic assholes.
Now imagine time surprise, when he finds a blurry image of a certain white haired teen he had a crush on when he was a kid. The same one who taught his so many things. How to fight, how to love, how to cook, different hobbies and so much more.
They even had the same name.
Phantom...
More deeper searching finds that phantom had only showed up about six years ago. When Tim was 15.
But phantom started disappearing around 2 years. But that didn't make sense. Because in the photos, phantom looked around 14-17. But Tim remembered him looking about 20. And him saying he was 20.
Then he saw something else. Something too coincidental.
A fourteen year old boy getting into an accident 6 years ago. Then phantom showing up.
The said boy having poor attendance and always disalearinf when a ghost appeared.
The said boy, moving cities to start looking for collage as he takes a gap year to raise money in a bigger city. The same year and month phantom almost starts showing up never...
Yeah. Tim really didn't think it was a coincidence.
They even looked extremely similar. This black haired, blue eyed, pale, freckled guy looked like a cooler inverse of phantom.
Other than phantom having pointed fangs and elfish ears. Everything was identical.
So. It was decided. Tim was going to meet phantom.... Sorry. He meant Fenton.
Duke was coming with, for his eyes because he can see things they can't.
Jason was coming for intimidation reasons. And possible connection to the ecto-beings, because he had always mentioned going somewhere when he was dead. He didn't remember it but the magic specialists said it was most likely the infinity realms. The living place of ecto-beings.
Time for a road trip!!!
And time for reliving his childhood crush, with an actual chance of it happening. Especially if his guess was right then he was even older than him.
Maybe only by a year. But still older. Tim was taking any bonuses he could. And he looked good when he tried, to he actually had a chance to woo him, unlike when he was a kid.
No. Danny didn't freeze from shock then proceed to faint when he opened his apartment door to find a certain Timothy Drake-Wayne at his door...
The same one who gave him an existential crisis at age 20.
The same one who made him question his morals.
The same one he raised as a parental/friend figure for 4 years.
The same one that made him question his sexuality.
Yeah, Danny was doomed. He couldn't keep secrets from a face like that. And to say the look of surprise on Tim's brother's faces wasn't expected when he started spilling everything on accident, would be a big fat lie.
Danny- minding his own business as the ghost king looking to be in his mid twenties, despite being a good enough age to be considered an elderly of elderly civilians, because his status as a half a made him stop ageing physically when he reached his mid 20's. Now out grew his friends and families, and only has Dante(evil reformed Danny) and Ellie(Danielle, the clone) left as family. Also part one of the first hero's to ever exist before the JL even formed and before Batman and what not. And Vlad turned out not to be a half a just a human who was slowly turning more and more liminal till he died eventually too, he did have a longer life though.
Also Danny- reached his limit of being able to keep his sanity and live in Amity, so decidedly going on a world wide tour with Dan(Dante) and Ellie to visit all sorts of places. And also decidedly, staying in some places for a good few years because of their love for the place and finding something new to keep themselves sain.
Also, Also Danny- An extreme polyglot with his two only siblings left, who have the most widest and randonest set of skills from all of the world.
Dante- finding out he has a love for the arts, like painting, photography and fashion and is talented at them, but keeps the tough guy act out of habit and weirdness if he suddenly starts acting friendly.
Danielle- finding out her passion is for sports and sciences. Has the ability to apply for the Olympics in a few of her favourite sports but doesn't to not draw attention and has a masters in civil and mechanical engineering.
All three of them- a good amount of decades have passed after jazz and their friends died of natural causes (old age) and explored more of the world than one person can do in a life time, of course not paying for travel fees and taking advantage of their smarts to make fake identities, work and living visas and so on.
In gotham: Tim and Duke looking into a missing persons report filed for three siblings, for a certain super- superhero, because he is currently off world and bats left it to them.
Duke: uhhh, Tim?
Tim busy looking at his phone doom scrolling waiting for facial recognition to finish loading: hmm?
Duke: what did you say the siblings names were again?
Tim: uhh. Registered as Dante, Daniel and Danielle- Wise, born in California moved to metropolis when they gained emancipation from their parents Jacqueline and Malcom Wise because of neglect who died when the youngest child turned 20, 5 years after their emancipation. Why?
Duke: .... Uhh, well. I don't know what's happening, but the face rec is done. And. Well... There is like a 100 different results. All the same face and first names just different surnames and different origins on nationality?
Tim finally looking up: huh?
Tim and Duke doing more research.
Tim: okay. So what have we got so far?
Duke: we know that their names are most likely Dante, Daniel and Danielle, they each have about 5 different identities each. All following a similar story of either dead parents, emancipation, orphans or something to excuse guardianships. All three are extremely smart AND talented- which might I add is unfair- but all that spans across every identity. The only identity that is inconsistent is the one dated back to being , possibly their original identities as Fentons, the children of The DR's. Fenton. Who died a good long time ago along with their oldest daughter Jazzmin Fenton.
Tim: okay... So... Immortals maybe?
Dake: maybe? We need to tell Bruce. And Clark.
Tim and Duke- reporting their findings to Bruce and Clark respectively. Continuing their search when suddenly getting a ping that there is a new identity under the similar faces.
The 3 siblings in gotham:
Danny: okay. So. New life. What are the plans?
Dan: I'mma work in Fashion. Make some money. And a photography gig on the side.
Ellie: I'mma apply for gotham U. I hear they have a great stem coars and excellent sports facilities. And I saw a cute cat cafe down the street, might apply to work there.
Danny: okay, okay. Solid. I might go for gotham U too. Probably gonna try the Aerospace engineering coarse, I hear gotham has great engineering classes and the sylibus has updated since I last checked. And might apply for work at a enrichment center. Been meaning to get some more exercise lately.
Dan: okay. Ellie, what's the status on money?
Ellie: still got money left over from the inheritance from Vlad and our parents. Like, I mean, they got a lot from their patents. And they had a lot of them too. Besides we keep applying for jobs so we keep earning too.
Danny: okay then. Here's to our new life as Nightingales.
Some times in the future after Tim and Duke got some of the Bat family involved and tracked down the siblings. Who quite obviously could tell they were there, cornering them on a roof.
Red Robin: so. The Nightingales. Mind telling us why you guys have about 6 different identities?
Signal: first your children of doctors. Then your British, then your from the baltics with a english mother. The list goes on.
Ellie: I don't know what your talking about but that ain't us. We're just 3 orphaned kids who are living quite well in life and-
RedHood: orphaned or without a guardian like the other 5 times, and have degrees in God knows how many subjects.
Dan: ... (Whisper shouting) I told you we should've changed the story. And out looks.
Batman: look, we don't want trouble, we just wanna talk. And maybe we can figure out something so that-
Danny devoid of sleep because he developed an addiction to the coffee from the place Ellie now works at: NU-UH!
Stunned silence.
Dan and Ellie holding laughter in.
Nightwing snickering in the back with RedHood turning away trying to calm down and not laugh.
Oracle listening in: The fuck does he Mean 'NU-UH'?!?!
Batman just tired from all this shit:the fuck you mean Nu-uh?!
Danny crossing his arms pulling a face and changing his voice to 'duh' sound: Nu-uh.
Shenanigans ensue with all the bats and birds in either stunned silence or uncontrollable laughter. Dan and Ellie recovering in half laughs dragging Danny away and escaping the scene.
They get chaced down almost every other night by the bats and birds, finding one way or another to get the word 'Nu-uh' in before Batman can even speak.
---
Batman: look, er just want to-
Dan, Danny and Ellie pulling out a sign from seemingly nowhere whith the word 'Nu-uh' written in bold colourful bubble writing on it. Then escaping after handing it to Batman.
---
Nightwing: please. We just want to talk-
The 3 siblings stood Silently listening.
Nightwing: I... Huh?
Dan: go on. We're listening.
Nightwing: but... I... Where is....
Radhood: what this birdbrain is trying to say, is, are you not gonna find a way to say your catchphrase before disappearing?
Ellie: nah. We ran out of unique ideas on how to deliver the message. The glitter bomb was my favorite.
Dan: the paint bomb was mine.
Danny: I'm still embarrassed at the fact that that was what my sleep deprived brain said. But the writing with knocked out criminals was my favorite.
Dan: heh, that was my idea.
Ellie: the glitter and paint was my idea.
RedHood: holy fuck... I guess we should just be glad their not villains.... If they were wed be doomed...
Dan: uhh.... Wellll.....
Signal: what's that meant to mean. Your not villains. Right? Please. Don't tell me you are. Why. God why can things just be simple. FOR ONCE! PLEASE!
Ellie: no. Not villains. Not really. But Dan, is a reformed villain. But that was like. Decades ago. So your fine.
Dan: besides. I only became evil because my mind got infected by a creepy old fruit loop.
Danny, Ellie and Dan all simultaneously shivering in disgust: ugh...
. . .
Red Robin: ... I'm too tired for this. I need a coffee...
. . .
Batman: how would you kids like to live in a mansion? Or maybe become vigilantes?
All the bats and birds other than Batman groan simultaneously with some muttering about adoption obsessions.
