I decided Danny needed a fire core AU where the portal accident blew up the entire block, condemned all of Amity, and was left to haunt it for 100 years before Sam and Tuck find him 🥰 for enrichment
Danny was so, so tired. And hungry. When was the last time he had a decent meal, he wondered? A week ago? Two weeks? Longer…? The days just seemed to blend together more and more since Jazz left for college.
Danny flew mindlessly over Amity Park, not really looking for anything, just…not wanting to go home. Not that there was really a reason to go home anymore, he thought. Not like his parents will notice he’s not there. With Jazz gone, there was no one there to rein his parents in. No voice of reason to point out they should be eating dinner instead of disassembling weapons on the table. No logical big sister to cite statistics on how poor sleep affects school performance in teenagers when their experiments were shaking the building at 1 o’clock in the morning.
With Jazz gone, his parent’s ghost obsession had reached new heights. Their weapons and experiments grew more deadly by the day and Danny…he was an afterthought…one they barely managed to think of at all most days…Danny was the underachieving youngest child. He was the screw up. The one who fell asleep in class. The one who got detention. At 17 years old and a senior in high school he was leaving the house soon anyway.
Danny’s mind unwillingly thought back to that day, like watching a train wreck he just couldn’t look away. He had been floating around after patrol a bit. Not long, he’d just wanted to stargaze for a while. The sky had been so clear that night. He hadn’t even noticed the sound of the GAV or the whine of the weapons charging until he felt the burning in his thigh from being shot. It was just a graze (a bad graze…but it’s not like his parent’s knew they were shooting at their own son! Plus,he got away quickly like he always did, so it was fine!) He had patched himself up as best he could and gone home.
Walking through the door, he had gone towards the kitchen to get some dinner, maybe even some fudge if his dad hadn’t eaten all of it. His parents had been sitting at the kitchen table, talking about him…not him him. Other him. Ghost him. Phantom. Talking about how close they were to getting him this time. The experiments they could run. What weapons might work better next time. Danny remembered standing there. Only a few feet away, in plain view of his Mom and Dad, while they talked about hurting him. Again. He remembered the blood trickling down his leg having leaked through the hastily applied bandages. Standing silently in the doorway waiting… and…nothing…his parents never spoke to him. They’d never asked if he was hungry. Never asked how his day had gone. Dad didn’t offer fudge. Mom didn’t give him a hug. They were too busy plotting to capture him…to hurt him…
That…that was the tipping point. The last straw. The moment Danny had known he could never trust his parents with his secret. That..they weren’t really his parents anymore. Not the way parents should be.
These days, Jack and Maddie (not Mom and dad, not anymore) really only ever spoke to him to ask why he hadn’t cleaned the lab. Occasionally they would mention him going to college next year. They didn’t ask or notice that Danny hadn’t mentioned any colleges.
Jazz had excelled in school. She had the grades and the SAT scores to apply anywhere and she had done the research on her own. She had applied, she had arranged to tour campuses. She had collected pamphlets and made charts and written pro/con lists. She had done it all without their help.
Danny didn’t have the grades. He didn’t have the SAT scores. He had done a bit better, later on. After that first year, it was easier to handle the ghosts. Technically, as the ghost king, he could just order them not to attack (he never did, he needed to fulfill his Obsessions and so did they). Still, the improvement wasn’t enough. He was only just skating by with passing grades. No college would look at his application and think anything other than “automatic rejection”.
I can’t tell her, he thought to himself for the hundredth time. Jazz deserves to be happy, to become a psychologist and have a normal life. Danny won’t…he can’t take away her dream.
Besides, she can’t help anyway. Not really. Danny’s old dream of becoming an astronaut was laughably impossible now. He had no hope of getting into college much less the kind of college NASA would look for in an applicant and even if he did, he’d definitely fail the physical on account of being, well..dead.
Tucker and Sam would be leaving soon too, then I’ll be completely alone, he thought despondently. That’s where they were this weekend. Sam was touring the University of California, Berkeley and Tucker was looking at MIT. Despite their differing interests and planned majors, they’d even discussed going to the same college together. He hadn’t talked to them about his parents. He tried to keep up a cheerful front for them. He didn’t want to hold his friends back from their dreams anymore than he wanted to drag his sister away from hers.
Danny had halfhearted plans to try and find an apartment and maybe give community college a try. Probably get a job of some kind. Nasty Burger is hiring his brain supplied, Danny winced at the thought. More than one person had told him he’d wind up flipping burgers if he didn’t apply himself more.
He’d also thought about just…leaving. Maybe to the ghost zone? Maybe somewhere else entirely. What future did he have here?
Danny was just so done with everything. And on top of everything else, he thought, word has gotten out the ghost king is back and I get to be summoned by every Tom, Dick and Harry who can get their hands on the spell.
Granted, Danny hasn’t actually accepted a single summons yet. Part of the spell is the offering and he can reject it. He has rejected all of them. That part, the rejecting part, isn’t hard. The first time he did it by accident. It was automatic, instinctual. It’s the entire rest of the process that’s disgusting, he thought with revulsion. When he is summoned, it starts with a vaguely unpleasant pull in his core, tugging at him. It’s annoying but fairly easy to ignore at first. Then, the tugging gets harder, then it starts to take over his senses. Specifically, taste and touch. Sometimes he can hear a bit (Danny has had enough of poorly enunciated Latin to last the rest of his afterlife thank you very much). That first summons (and in way too many since), Danny had tasted blood, overwhelmingly, suddenly, blood. He’d been in English class at the time and had bolted from the room without asking (detention, again) and straight to the boy’s bathroom. He’d barely made it in time to vomit everything he’d eaten that day straight into the toilet.
Apparently, vomiting counts as rejecting the offering. Who knew? Danny has since learned to reject the offerings faster (he hardly vomits at all anymore). Some of the people trying to summon him have mixed it up a bit, gold is a pretty frequent offering. Jewels, of course. Blood though, blood continues to be the most popular choice.
Between the frequent and unwelcome taste tests from hell with the summonings and the lack of edible food at home, Danny would do just about anything for a Klondike bar at this point.
The last few days have been particularly bad. Some asshat (or asshats? Danny’s heard more than one voice) just won’t take the hint and have been summoning him nonstop the last few days. This one felt…further away…that some of the others had. Clockwork had told him the infinite realms was, well, infinite. That it connected to other worlds and realities and dimensions away from his own. That feeling of distance is what made him think this was the same group that had been trying to summon him so insistently.
He just…desperately wanted some warmth. A meal made with love. Even a snack. Someone who cared enough to make something just for him.
The thought passed through Danny’s head, if one of those idiots who keeps summoning me put a decent meal as the offering I might just go…
Tim was so, so tired. And hungry. God, did he need a cup of coffee. When was the last time he slept? Two days ago maybe? Longer? The long hours and days just seemed to blend together since that initial attack.
An unknown and powerful being had attacked Metropolis 9 days ago. They had wreaked utter havoc and Superman hadn’t been able to even delay them, much less stop them. Nothing Superman could do had even touched the hellish green glowing creature. The entity phased through solid matter like it wasn’t there. It could turn invisible. It could send energy blasts that caused massive amounts of property damage. It could possess people….control them completely. That was the worst one. When Superman tried to stop it. It had fought at first. Then it simply took over.
Controlling Superman, the entity had leveled 3 city blocks before it and grown bored with it’s temporary plaything and left him in the middle of the wreckage. Clark didn’t dare go after him for fear of being controlled again.
The rest of the Justice League had been called in. Others went after the entity. Green Lantern. Flash. Wonder Woman. They all failed. Superman was far from the last to be taken over by the being. The destruction caused was catastrophic. It had moved from Metropolis to other cities, then to other countries with seemingly no pattern or reasoning, carving a path of devastation as it went.
The Justice League Dark was consulted. They didn’t know how it came to be here but they at least knew something of what it was. A being of the infinite realms. A ghost. “Not like you’re thinking,” Constantine had said. “They’re called ghosts, or they call themselves ghosts, at least some of the time, but not all of them used to be people. Beings of the infinite realms are ghosts of a different sort. Not something you want to get mixed up in.”
Next they had tried spells. Artifacts. Rituals. Still, nothing could stop the ghost.
Now, they were down to their last chance. Every other option had been exhausted. This was a the last ditch effort, the hail mary pass, the I hope it works because we have nothing else option. They were trying to summon another ghost to stop the first one. They were trying to summon the ghost king…and it wasn’t working.
The problem was the offering. Constantine had explained the summoning ritual calls for one and the ghost king can reject it so they need to make it good.
They had tried blood first. “It’s traditional”, Constantine had said with a slight grimace. The major league members attending the ritual had all donated (a pint each) for the offering. The blood of the most powerful beings on earth would surely make a good offering and they were out of time. It didn’t work. The ritual had barely begun before it was over, the offering rejected.
Next, the blood of virgins was considered because apparently ancient, eldritch beings can be picky sometimes. After several extremely awkward conversations with various younger superheroes (Tim was thankfully excluded, he’s never been so thankful to live in a family of detectives that know almost everything about each other), the second offering was made and also summarily rejected.
They tried gold, silver, copper. Various precious jewels. They tried magical artifacts (Constantine was not happy at all). One of the league members who had no children and had no intention of ever having children had the clever idea of offering their first born.
Nothing. Nothing was working. Every single offering was rejected. All members of the league not directly involved with the current ritual attempt or benched were out working damage control. They had stopped even trying to defeat the ghost and were concentrating on evacuation. Desperately trying to prevent further lives lost.
Tim was just so done with everything. He had been researching endlessly trying to find something, anything that might work for the offering with no luck. Most of the bat family members had been working damage control and occasionally rotating up to the Watchtower to try and help with the summoning. Tim and Oracle had been put primarily on research. Tim had wanted to help with the situation on the ground. He saw the destruction on his screens. He saw his family coming back lifeless and exhausted. “You and Oracle are the best at finding information,” Batman had said, “we need you here.” So he looked. He sifted through endless archeological reports, arcane texts, ancient poems and ballads and folklore. Trying to find something, anything at all the Ghost King might accept and still nothing.
“Hey baby bird,” Dick said coming up behind Tim, “I brought you some coffee and,” he shifted to a conspiratorial tone with a tired grin, “the last cookie!”
Red Robin gave a brief half smile, he really didn’t have the energy for anything else. “Thanks Nightwing, coming with to the latest attempt?”
“Yeah, maybe this will be the one,” Dick said hopefully as they fell into step with each other, heading towards the room being used for the summoning ritual.
Tim nodded in agreement not making eye contact with Dick. He hadn’t found anything, nobody had. His ever optimistic brother was counting on him and he was letting him down.
They entered the ritual room. Batman was standing with Robin and Black Bat off to the side. He was deep in a discussion with Superman and Wonder Woman about the current relief efforts. Superman and the other league heavy hitters hadn’t been allowed to go back down to the Earth, it was too much of a risk with their power levels if any of them were to be possessed again. Constantine was preparing the circle yet again. This was the 42nd try.
“Anything?” Constantine asked.
Red Robin swallowed and looked down as the room’s occupants turned to look at him. He hadn’t found any new leads. Nothing they hadn’t already tried. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.
As he looked down, he saw the coffee and cookie Dick had brought him. One of Alfred’s cookies. The last cookie. The last cookie of the batch was…special…important…sacred even…he thought in an exhausted haze. They all fought over who would get the last cookie. Plus the coffee. Coffee was…he needed it. Coffee was energy and life. It was the only thing that kept him going most days. And…they had tried so many things. Why not this?
Tim looked up and wordlessly held up the cookie and the coffee.
Constantine looked surprised then shrugged. “Why not? We’ve tried every other bloody thing under the sun. Maybe the King has as sweet tooth.”
Tim placed the coffee and cookie in the appropriate place for the offering in the circle and they all stood back as Constantine began to chant.
It was happening again. Danny felt the tug at his core as yet another summoning was trying to whisk him away to who knows where. He sighed as he mentally braced himself for whatever gross thing they decided to offer up this time. Then, he tasted, chocolate? Coffee? It…it tasted good. Really good. This wasn’t gas station coffee and a store bought cookie. That cookie was…homemade? Or at least from a really good bakery.
Danny wanted that cookie. He’d been wanting something just like this. Just for him. Now it was literally being offered to him.
He shouldn’t. Should he? He’d be pulled to someplace completely foreign. Someplace far away. Very far. He probably couldn’t get back. Not right away. Maybe not ever.
But, there was nothing here. Once Sam and Tucker left he’d be completely alone. Maybe…maybe he should go. Maybe there might be something better? It can’t be worse.
“You know know what?” Danny exclaimed aloud. “I’m going to do it!” For the first time, he accepted an offering. He gave into the tugging feeling and felt himself being pulled away. “At least I’ll have a cookie,” he said as his voice and his body faded away.
Tim and the Justice League watched the circle as it lit up. Listened as Constantine chanted the words to the summoning. They watched as it reached the point where offerings began to be rejected. They listened as the chant reached the furthest part Constantine had ever recited before the ritual was stopped again. The circle stayed lit. For the first time, Constantine spoke the entire chant without interruption.
For a brief moment, none of them reacted. They had failed so many times they no longer expected success, especially not for a snack. Then they realized it had worked. As one they leaned forward slightly, tense with anticipation. Tim was in shock, he…this…it worked? Every hero in the room was fully focused on the circle. No one moved. They barely breathed waiting for the king to come through.
A single, white gloved hand came up through the floor of the circle. Then another. Then a head of white hair. The Ghost King pushed himself off the floor and floated up and away from the circle.
He’s was…a child or at least very young, Tim thought, analyzing automatically as he was trained to do in spite of his shock. The Ghost King appeared to be about Tim’s age, maybe a bit younger though he could just be on the shorter side. He had pure white hair that seemed to float as though he was underwater. His skin was extremely pale with a slight blueish tint to it. He had pointed ears and bright glowing green eyes. The king was dressed mostly in black with a stylized symbol on his chest of some kind. He had a cape that appeared to be made of the night sky, the stars that shone within, shifting and twinkling as he floated in the middle of the circle. A frozen crown floated slightly above his head glowing as green as the king’s eyes.
The King looked at them all briefly taking in the room. Then he looked down. His entire focus shifted to the offering. He tilted downwards so his head was mere inches from the cookie staring at it. He looked up. “Is this for me?” he asked in a hopeful and somewhat sad voice.
“It’s for you,” Batman said gently. He might be the Dark Knight, feared far and wide by villains (and quite a few heroes), but Batman was also a dad and he whatever they had been expecting, this was clearly a hungry child.
The Ghost King grinned happily, almost disbelievingly and reached down to grab the cookie. The heroes watched in silence as he slowly took a bite. His eyes closed as an expression of pure bliss came across his face. He took a sip of the coffee and let out a small whimper. “This is so good,” the boy king whispered. No one said anything as he enjoyed the rest of his treat.
After he finished it off, the young king seemed to realize everyone was watching him. “Right,” he said in an embarrassed tone as his cheeks tinted slightly green, “Umm so why did you summon me here? Other than sugar and caffeine? Not that those weren’t good! They were!”
Superman hesitated briefly before stepping forward. This was a child. Constantine had warned them they couldn’t react to the King’s appearance but they had all been expecting an eldritch monster. Something terrifying, not a teenager. Still, he had known powerful entities that pretended to be children and he had known children that were powerful and they needed the Ghost King. “I’m Kal-El of Krypton. On Earth, I’m known as Superman. Are you the ghost king?”
“Oh, right. Yes. That’s me. I’m Danny Phantom. High King of the Infinite Realms,” the king responded straightening slightly.
“Your majesty, we summoned you because we need your help. An unknown ghost from the infinite realms is attacking Earth and we can’t stop them.”
“Of course I can help,” the King said and started confidently floating forward only to abruptly stop. He looked confused for a moment, glancing down at the circle understanding dawned on his face. “Okay so, not to be, like, greedy or anything. I would totally help with the ghost for free! But, umm…I think to get out of the circle I’m supposed to make a deal with you? Like, there has to be something your giving me in exchange for your request? Sorry…”
The heroes looked at each other, King Phantom seemed, almost embarrassed to be asking. They had known they would need to make a deal and had discussed what they could offer but they had all anticipated basing their offer on what the Ghost King accepted as a sacrifice. They had braced themselves for a monster demanding blood, an ancient being declaring they would only help if given double their weight in gold. They had no idea what to offer a bashful teenager that showed up for a cookie.
“Roast Beef,” Tim blurted impulsively. He cringed a bit, and thought oops, really shouldn’t be inviting powerful interdimensional beings home without asking first. He quickly glanced at Batman who nodded back. The Ghost King was looking at him questioningly. “Roast beef,” he said again, “with potatoes and roasted vegetables.”
“And rolls, the good soft kind with butter,” Dick chimed in helpfully.
“Dessert,” added Black Bat softly.
The Ghost King’s eyes were wide, “A cookie and dinner, this is the best summoning ever,” he said to himself. He focused on Red Robin and held out his hand with a smile, “Deal!”
Red Robin shook King Phantom’s hand. The circle briefly glowed brighter before the light went out sealing the pact.
“Point the way , umm…I guess I don’t know your name?”
“Red Robin”
“Yum,” the King responded instantly. At Tim’s look of confusion, he blushed a bright green all the way to the tips of his ears. “I guess they don’t have that in this dimension….it’s, well, never mind.” The King looked away and Tim tried not to laugh (he should not be thinking words like “cute” and “adorable” about the ruler of an entire dimension).
“This way your majesty,” Superman said trying to hide his amusement as he led the way towards the monitor room.
Batman strode towards the main monitor display keying in several commands. “This is the last known location of the hostile entity,” he said indicating the satellite view along with a map view. “We can transport you there and give you access to any resources at our disposal.”
Tim had been watching King Phantom. As they entered the monitor room, his eyes had gone impossibly wide. “I’m in space,” the king whispered in wonder.
With Batman calling his attention to the screen, the Ghost King’s gaze snapped towards him. “No, I don’t need anything, I can get there myself but if you have transport that works too.”
“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Superman asked glancing at the others. All of them silently wondering if this boy could truly defeat the seemingly unstoppable evil spirit that had been plaguing their world.
“Nope, I’m good!”
“This way then,” Superman responded heading towards the Zeta-tubes.
17 minutes and 46 seconds. That’s how long it took King Phantom to defeat the ghost that had been terrorizing the planet for the last 9 days. I can’t get a pizza that fast, he thought with disbelief. Tim had watched the monitor display, he had noted the time. They recorded everything and he still didn’t believe it. Less than 20 minutes to bring down an entity that had defeated the entire Justice League, all in exchange for Tim’s snack and the promise of dinner.
Phantom floated back up through the floor of the Watchtower. “All done!”
The heroes glanced at each other, still reeling from the powerful display they had just witnessed. Tim saw the Ghost King’s smile falter and an uncertain look come across his face as he saw their reaction.
“Well, sounds like it’s dinner time then, your highness,” he said deliberately injecting cheer into his voice.
King Phantom’s smile returned as he turned towards Tim, “Call me Danny.”
Note: I have read many, many fics but this is the first fic (or the first anything really) I’ve ever written outside of my own head. Thanks for reading :-)
been on a fanfic reading binge, clearly. im not usually a fanfic reader but man the dp community just GETS IT MAN
@dp-belongs-in-a-hoodie has a BUSSIN fanfic called Something's Wrong With Danny Fenton, bro reading it felt like they were personally feeding me kernels of edginess like a caring farmer feeding their Ayam Cemani chicken. also im glad they like my feral danny art lmao, this one's for you comrade
I love seeing Danny Phantom showing up and being like ‘don’t ask too many questions but John Constantine I own your soul. All of it. Lmao sucks to suck bitch’, and he’s usually all Ghost King Full Regalia as he does it, at least in front of the Justice League, but consider—
He just shows up as Danny Fenton.
“yeah I got bored and collected the pieces like Pokémon. Gotta catch ‘em all” says the 5’2 teen who looks like a stiff breeze could trip him. He denies being a sorcerer, or a magician, concedes he’s maybe psychic but mostly he’s just…. The kid of two mad scientists—who have a basement lab where they opened a portal to what he SAYS is not hell but no one is frankly CONVINCED, by the way—and he hasn’t decided what to do with Constantine yet besides getting Danny into some r rated horror movies, but figures he should tell the dude probably.
“What’d you even trade for some of his soul contracts?”
Ajhsjdks can you imagine if he didn’t even have to trade anything for it?? Like a bunch of demons, ghosts, n creatures offering their piece of John’s soul during his coronation to gain the favor of their new monarch
A dude’s whole ass soul was dropped in his lap the moment he became king and he finally got around to meeting the poor guy with the overcomplicated soul custody issues
I feel like this particular version of Danny would grab Constantine whenever he runs into magic stuff (not ghost stuff, or ghost magic stuff) he doesnt know how to deal with on his own... of course, anything beyond Danny is also above Constantine's skill level, and it's alway the most bizarre, horrible, complicated stuff he's ever seen, and why oh why is this seemingly normal kid even involved???
Wait, wait, no, what if he got Constantine's soul through something entirely or mostly unrelated to his ghost shenanigans? Like, idk, some kids at Casper High giving demon summoning a try, to mixed results, and then Danny khuman version) shows up and bullies the demon into bribing him to let them leave... with a ludicrously small bribe (a piece of Constantine's soul), of course. And stuff like that just keeps happening. Doesn't even have to be demons. The soul bits could have circulated like bad pennies. Maybe Jack or Maddie buys an old soul contact off ebay to do experiments on, and Danny asks if he can have it when they're done.
Gosh darn it, I'm going to have to write something.
.
"Ooooh, Maddie! It came!" Jack picked the thin package up and spun around.
"What is it?" asked Danny around a spoonful of cereal (Cosmic Crunch, now with extra marshmallow stars!), mildly alarmed. It probably wasn't anything inherently dangerous, he'd sense it if it was, it was unlikely to be anything nice, either. Best case scenario was some kind of Vlad Masters fan boy merch. Which. Barf. Worst case, well...
He didn't have a good track record with his parents' packages.
"Just some nonsense your father picked up online."
Ooh, they were fighting. Good to know. Hopefully it wasn't Santa-related. He'd die. Literally, if temporarily. It was way too early in the year.
"It's not nonsense!" protested Jack, tearing into the package to reveal an... oversized manila envelope. He held it up, as if it refuted Maddie's point entirely.
"Magic isn't real, dear."
"Yes, it is! There are wizards and magicians in the Justice League!"
"There are wizard and magician themed superheroes in the Justice League. That one girl does stage magic, sleight of hand, publicly. They're almost certainly aliens or metas."
Well. Danny didn't know about the guys on the Justice League, but he knew for a fact that magic was real, dangerous, and not always detectable in the same way ghost stuff was. So that little manila envelope might have something more dangerous in it than he'd initially assume.
"Okay, but that doesn't answer what it's supposed to be," he pointed out, lowering his spoon to his bowl.
"Oh, yeah! It's a soul contract! It gives me ownership of a human soul!"
"... Huh?"
Maddie was wearing her goggles, but even so, it was obvious she was rolling her eyes. "A man claiming to be a demonologist said he'd gotten it in a bargain with a demon."
Danny blinked. "Isn't that usually the other way around?"
Maddie shrugged.
"Well, yeah, but the demonologist had something that pesky demon wanted!" said Jack, beaming. "So it had to pay up! Apparently, the soul belongs to some hotshot wizard!"
"It's a scam, Jack."
"Well, spell scam backwards and you get macs! As in, take it to the max! Bonzai!" He opened the envelope with a flourish, and pulled out a piece of yellowed but otherwise normal-looking paper.
Emphasis on looking, because now that Danny had his eyes on it, he could tell it wasn't normal. The power in it was faint, but it was there.
"I'm going to go run some tests on it!" declared Jack, taking off into the basement.
"It's just old printer paper, Jack!" yelled Maddie, before returning to her coffee with a huff.
"Uh," said Danny. He looked at Maddie, who still had a sour expression on her face. "I'm going to... uh... make sure he doesn't set anything on fire." Or summon a demon, accidentally or on purpose.
.
"Aw," said Jack, after several nerve-wracking (for Danny) days. "I guess Maddie was right. It is just a normal piece of paper. I'm sorry, Danno. I know you were real interested."
"Uh huh," said Danny, still a little burnt out from destroying the automatic demon summoning machine Jack had built and promptly forgotten about in a corner. "So, uh. I guess you don't need it?"
"Eh? Well, no, I guess not. Might as well chuck it!"
"Actually, I was wondering if I could have it!" said Danny, quickly, before Jack could crumple up the contract.
"Really? Why?"
That was a good question, honestly. It had caused him a lot of trouble, and he didn't really want to own a guy's soul, but the idea of just throwing out something like this struck Danny as a bad one. Maybe he could track the guy down and give it back to him, assuming he wasn't an evil bastard. Which he might be, if he did things like making deals with demons.
"I don't know," said Danny, shrugging. "It's kind of funny, isn't it? Like, I own this guy's soul now. It's in writing and everything."
Jack chuckled. "That it is! Sure, you can have it! Maybe we can even get it framed or something."
The small power in the paper shifted slightly with the change in ownership. Danny didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
"Ha, maybe," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's fine the way it is for right now, though." He slid over to the table the paper was on, and gently tugged it out of the ecto-measurement apparatus. "I'll just put this away!"
And try to learn more about it.
.
Johnny Thirteen simultaneously gave off the vibes of being someone who Knew Stuff and the vibes of someone who had never had a thought in his life. As such, when Danny saw him standing in the middle of the mall, obviously freaking out, he knew he was the perfect person to ask about the whole 'owning a soul' thing.
So, Danny slowly sidled up to him.
"Trying to find a gift for Kitty?"
"Ohholysh--! Phaaaenton! The hell are you so sneaky?"
Danny shrugged. "You need help?"
Johnny squinted. "What's it to you?"
"Come on, I offer to help you all the time."
"Yeah, sure, usually followed by the whole 'get out of my town' speech."
"Gasp," said Danny, pressing his hands to his chest. "I'm so offended. Yeah, dude, I want you out of town when you're breaking the speed limit by eighty miles an hour and Shadow is destroying everything you touch, putting dozens of people in danger of injury or death. Shocker. But I've got some questions about this thing I found, and I'm willing to deal with whatever Shadow's doing to get answers. As long as he isn't about to hurt someone."
"What makes you think Shadow's doing anything?" demanded Johnny, right before a set of shelves in the nearby candle store collapsed.
Danny raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, fine. Mine and Kitty's anniversary is coming up, and I dunno what to get her. What do you want?"
"I need to know if soul contracts are a thing and how they work. Like, what they do and stuff like that."
"Holy crap, did someone try to buy your soul?"
"No," said Danny. He made a face, then admitted, "My dad bought one and when it looked like it wasn't going to do anything ghostly, he gave it to me."
Johnny's eyebrows flew up. "Jesus Christ, you're involved in the soul trade."
"Don't say it like that," said Danny, masterly ignoring the sounds of a twenty-four lunch pileup from the food court. "I just didn't want to leave it lying around. It's not going to corrupt my soul or anything like that, is it?"
"Nah," said Johhny. He reached into his pocket for something. "I'm not philophical or anything, but even when you're dealing with magic there's wayyy more nuance in good and evil than people like to think. Smoke?"
"Stop that, you'll set the smoke alarms off. What else do you know about this stuff."
Johnny stuck his cigarette into his mouth and held up a finger. "Gift for Kitty first, then answers."
That was about what Danny expected. "Okay. Which anniversary is it for you guys, anyway?"
Johnny shrugged. "Dunno."
Yikes. He wasn't as bad as Jack, who could probably take Olympic gold in time blindness, but still.
"Well," he said, summoning years' worth of his mother's lectures on the subject, "flowers and chocolate are always good. So's jewelry. But they have to be quality. Then there's, I don't know, hobby stuff? Does Kitty have any hobbies?"
"She's been on some kinda fitness kick lately. Maybe I can get her some diet shakes or something like that? Maybe a scale? Ours broke."
"Absolutely not. I'd ask how you were still alive, but you're not, so. Anything else?"
"What's wrong with diet shakes?"
"Dude. Are you trying to call her fat? Move on. What else does she like?"
"She used to do some knitting?"
Wow, Danny would never have thought that.
"Okay, I guess you could give her some yarn, too? That's not enough on it's own... Maybe take her out on a fancy date, too? Or," he continued, think things through from a more ghostly perspective, "you could do like... a gesture? Like, beat up an enemy for her or something. But a date, definitely."
"I know about dates," said Johnny. "It's the present that's trouble!"
"Well, I've given you options."
"Yeah, sure, options, as if I'm made of money."
"You're saying you're dead broke?"
This isn't funny, you twerp! This is my afterlife on the line!"
"Oh my gosh, calm down. If you can't pay for it, just fight someone for it or steal it or something."
Johnny eyed him doubtfully. "You'll be me up if I do."
"I'll beat you up if you try and do it here," clarified Danny. "Walker has a bunch of stuff. So does the Box Ghost. And I know for a fact Bertrand and Spectra have a bunch of wedding rings."
"Why would they-?"
"Wedding counselor scam. Don't ask. It sucked. Anyway, go fight one of them instead of involving humans. I know you can at least take Boxy."
"Yeah, great idea! I'll just go-!"
Danny grabbed the tail of Johnny's leather coat before he could fly away. "Your side. Now. And let's get out of the mall before Shadow sets the candle store on fire or something."
"He wouldn't do that, he hates fire!"
The fire alarm started going off. Danny spared a minute to stare at Johnny flatly. "Don't go anywhere."
.
Johnny did go somewhere. He didn't get very far.
.
"You know, this makes me much less likely to make deals with you in the future, right?" asked Danny from his perch on Johnny's back.
"Aw, come on, you didn't even have to 'go ghost' or whatever to find me."
"I did to put out the fire, though. Do you know how fast a candle store can go up? Do you?"
"No," admitted Johnny.
"It's fast. Really fast. Buildings in general burn fast. I prefer fighting fires to murder attempts, but that's like comparing getting shot with a shotgun to getting shot with a pistol. They both suck. You get me?"
"Uhh..."
"Never mind. So. Selling souls. Soul contracts. Whatever. What can you tell me?"
"It's like, a thing some demons and devils do with humans. Pretty much what it sounds like. Power or favors for the soul upon death. Or when they're dead."
"Bit of a weird distinction to make."
"Yeah, well, believe it or not, it's come up. And Ancients only know how you'd count with either of those."
"Hm," said Danny. "I probably count as having died, but am I dead... I guess it matters for people who are only temporarily dead? Like, people who get resuscitated? Or whatever the JL has going on."
"Yeah, that's it exactly. But basically, if you have a contract with one of those guys and you die, it's a one way ticket to the Unworld. Hell. Whatever you want to call it. No chance of forming a normal ghost or getting into the nice afterlives. Unless someone intervenes for you and they pack a big punch, it's eternal slavery, torture, or being eaten. Sometimes all three."
"What if someone who isn't a demon has the contract?"
"I dunno, it doesn't come up much, man. Heard about some angels shredding a few a while back, and there've been rumors about where Nocturne gets his sleepwalkers for ages, and about Pariah's army, too, but nothing solid. I guess you'd own them. Thralldom. Maybe their soul would get suctioned to you instead?"
Danny grimaced. He didn't want to own anyone. So. "Any way to safely get rid of one?"
"Sell it?"
"No, I mean, like, destroy it. So it doesn't hurt me or the other guy."
"Dunno. Try and find an angel, I guess."
"Johnny, where am I going to find an angel?"
"Pft. It's not like they live on another planet or anything."
"No, just in another dimension."
"Hey, it's called the Infinite Realms for a reason. But, like, are you sure you want to free up someone who made a deal with a demon for power?"
See, this is why Danny got Johnny for advice. Other than him just being available.
"Yeah, okay, you have a point there. I'll come back to that. You ever see a soul contract before? You could tell if it was a real one?"
"Uh, maybe?" Johnny shifted slightly. "I only ever saw one, and it was for this weirdo named John Constantine. You'd get a real kick out of his story."
Danny stiffened slightly, recognizing the name. "Yeah?"
"Oh, yeah. Like, I don't know if the man is big on balls or short on brain cells, but you've got to admire it anyway." Johnny chuckled. "So, get this. The guy's dying. And, you know, he sucks, so he's convinced he's going to Hell, right?"
"Sure," said Danny. He didn't really get how people were sorted into afterlives, but, for obvious reasons, it wasn't a problem he was going to personally face.
"He doesn't want to go to Hell."
"Reasonable."
"He picks a fight with Satan."
"He-- Like, the actual Satan?" The Infinite Realms being what they were, names from mythology tended to have a lot of different claimants.
"Don't know, don't care. He's a tough dude, anyway. So, Johnny C, he picks a fight with Satan. Which, again, respect. Gotta beat up the biggest guy in the prison yard. And Satan's all like, ooh, now I've got to have your soul and torture you for all eternity. God, demons are so boring. Then our boy goes and sells a his soul to two biggest, nastiest demons he could find. Like, you'd call them Ancients if they ever took a break from torture."
Wow, Danny wasn't liking the revelation that demons could be as strong as the Ancients. "Okay, so far I'm leaning more towards the dumb category rather than the bold category for this guy, but continue."
"Right, so here's the genius part: He sold it to both of them."
"Yeah? You said that."
"Without the other one knowing. So, when it started to look like he was going to kick it, they all showed up to his deathbed and started fighting, including good ol' Satan."
"Why'd they have to go to his deathbed?" asked Danny. "I thought the soul just went swoop to them." He made a sort of sweeping motion with his hand, not sure how truly disembodied souls should move.
"Don't ask me, man, this is all third hand. Fourth hand? Whatever. Point is, since demons are all assholes, they'd fight each other if his soul was up for grabs, and none of them were too sure about their chances, what with all of them having armies or whatever, so they shoved him back in his body, healed him, and went on their way."
"They can do that?"
"Yeah, like I said, they're almost Ancients."
"So... It's an immortality scam," said Danny.
"Yeah, and, guess what, he's still doing it. Like, the guy sells his soul like it's going out of style, because it can't get much worse for him, right?"
"Okay," said Danny, "but it sounds like he's well known, so... Why would anyone buy his soul, if it's a scam?"
"Clout, probably? They get passed into the Zone sometimes, and I don't know how demons see it, but it's got to be a big boost being able to say you've got the soul of someone who's in the Justice League."
Danny was about to make a comment about a guy like that getting into the Justice League, but then he remembered something terribly important. "The Justice League, you say?"
"Yeah, wild, right?"
"So, uh. I guess the contracts he made with the big demons said they'd get his soul when he was dead?"
"Yeah, probably. Why?"
"What'd happen if he made a later contract with someone else and it said after he'd died?"
"Well, unless they wanted to piss off the big demons, they'd leave it."
"Uh huh," said Danny, rubbing his lower lip. "And, hypothetically, what would happen if someone... collected all those different contracts?"
"Holy crap, you really are getting into the soul trade."
"Hey! I'm just trying to help out a fellow hero!" said Danny, who absolutely had an ulterior motive, even if it was mostly benign. "It's not very useful to just give him back one contract, is it?"
Johnny, uncharitably, snorted.
"So, do you know who has his contracts?"
.
"You want to do what?" asked Jazz, a spoonful of yogurt hanging forgotten in front of her mouth. "For what?"
"I want to collect all of John Constantine's soul contracts so I can blackmail him into taking me to the Justice League's super secret space base."
"Danny..." said Jazz. She finally lowered the spoon, then looked around the kitchen as if their parents might pop out of one of the cabinets, despite being off installing ghost shields around a private kindergarten on the edge of town. "Don't you think buying someone's soul is a little..."
"Hey, he's the one that sold it."
"Probably for a good cause, if he's in the Justice League."
"Sure," said Danny, "and I'm going to give them all back to him, really, but between this and me managing to get past the NASA health checks, which is more likely?"
He really was going to give all the contracts back to Constantine, or at least destroy them, renounce them, void them, whatever, but the guy clearly needed an intervention. Stat. Plus, secret space station base.
It wasn't like he was going to make him do anything bad. And he'd make a proper appointment and everything, back off if there was a Justice League emergency, that kind of thing. He was sympathetic to the plight of the overwhelmed and formerly-dead superhero! He was one!
"Danny, if you..." she sighed heavily, "blackmail this guy with his soul contracts, don't you think he'll wonder how you got them? You don't want to be investigated, right?"
"Yeah! That's why I'll get all of them as a human! It'll be like a hobby. A personal challenge!" He pumped his fist.
Jazz stared at him with a mixture of resignation and horror. "Danny... you know that's worse, right? That's going to make them investigate you. As opposed to Phantom."
"Yep! And then they'll find the portal to the afterlife in our basement, and maybe they'll finally take us seriously." His eyes briefly flared green.
"Right," said Jazz. "Okay." She picked up her spoon and continued eating her yogurt with an air of extreme exhaustion. "As long as we're going all-in on the lunacy, sure. Fine. Whatever. Don't sell your soul or your firstborn by mistake."
Danny gave her two thumbs up. "I won't!"
.
"You want to what?" asked Sam.
"I want you to help me buy this guy's soul."
"From ebay?"
Danny nodded. "From ebay."
"I thought they didn't let you sell souls on ebay."
"Yeah, the seller is using a loophole, where they're actually selling the contract, but that seems to be good enough for the magic."
Sam stared at Danny for a moment, then shrugged. "You know what? I'm in."
.
"Okay," said Sam, dropping a huge book on the table, forcing Tucker to scramble to save his lunch, "this spell isn't specifically for soul contracts, but should let you find 'similar magic.'"
"Sweet," said Danny, pulling the book over. "You think I'll be able to do this?"
"If not," said Sam, "I'll help you out."
"Well," said Tucker, "can you do it somewhere else? That thing is dusty, and I need protein to survive seventh period!"
.
Danny walked around the circle of mushrooms three times before closing his eyes and stepping into it. When he opened his eyes, he was somewhere else, but there was the thin silver line of magic, leading onward.
So far, so good!
.
"Oh my gosh," groaned Danny, sprawled on the couch, "there's still so many. Why are there still so many?"
"Well," said Jazz, "it's possible that he's still selling his soul. So you might never be able to get all of them."
"Gross," said Danny. "I want him to stop." Something tingled, and Danny sat bolt upright."
"What is it?" asked Jazz, reaching for her wrist ray.
Danny focused, but... "Nothing. I guess I just got a chill."
"That's unusual."
"Yeah."
.
"Okay," said the minor demon from inside the summoning circle, "you drive a hard bargain, human. I'll sell it to you, on one condition."
"What's that?"
"You cause that bastard magician problems."
"That is the intention."
.
Danny sized up the demon in front of him, then raised his modified ectoblaster. "Well," he said, pleasantly, "if you don't want to sell now, I guess I can beat you up until you change your mind."
"And what can a human like you do? You aren't even wearing a symbo--"
Danny shot the demon in the face with holy-water-infused ectoplasm.
.
Danny set his homework down on the table and stared at Clockwork's extremely smug face. "What do you mean I could have just been stealing them the whole time?"
"Well," demurred Clockwork, his voice oddly synchronized with the ticking clocks of his lair, "not all of them. Some of them are only transferable through willing trade, not through possession of the physical version of the contract. But I'm sure you're well aware of how demons are at this point"
Danny groaned. "I've been trying to figure out what I can trade them or threaten them with all month."
"Indeed. But do be aware that stealing from demons is risky business."
.
It evolved the demons did not guard their vaults against living human incursion as well as they should have. Danny had lots of fun.
.
"Look," said the demon, "I don't even want it anymore." It snapped its fingers, and a... thing... appeared in a burst of gray smoke. "Look at it! I feel like it's looking at me!"
Danny examined the admittedly creepy but not at all haunted baby doll the contract was written on and sensed an opportunity. "Good point. You know what, I've changed my mind. You can keep it."
"No! Wait! Human, take it! Take it! I'll pay you!"
.
"Hey, Sam, I got your money back."
.
With a triumphant smile, Danny added the last of the contracts to what he'd dubbed 'Constantine's pile of bad decisions.'
It promptly exploded.
.
On reflection, Danny thought, staring dazedly around the room, it hadn't really been an explosion. Not a very big one, anyway. His room was completely intact. Except...
Except the contracts were gone. Shredded. There were little bits of paper (and doll stuffing) strewn around the room like confetti.
Danny screamed internally. What. Had. Happened. Had Constantine booby trapped his contracts somehow? Jerk. That was so unfair!
Except... He rubbed his eyes, as if that would do anything. The magic was very clearly still there. He hauled himself to his feet, tapping into his flight just a little bit, and stumbled forward, glaring at the drawer he'd kept everything in, as if it had answers to whatever had just happened.
His sense of the magic-- It very clearly moved with him. Oh. That wasn't great.
.
"Great one," said Frostbite, pressing his icy hand to his ectoplasmic one, "why didn't you come to us sooner? Or at least instead of Johnny Thirteen?"
"I don't know," said Danny, "I thought I had a handle on it! And, I, um, maybe... didn't have the right, or, uh, pure intentions."
Frostbite made a ice bench behind him without looking back, which was pretty cool. Danny wished he could do something that specific without looking. "What do you mean?"
"Well," Danny bobbed in the air, uncertainly, "he has access to this really cool space station that I wanted to go to... Like it would have been a win-win, though! I was going to give him back all of the contracts... So I guess it would have been a reverse soul contract, but..." He shrugged. "Now the contracts are gone, but I can feel the magic, and I don't know what went wrong!"
"Ah," said Frostbite, "well, nothing wrong with indulging your passions, especially not when you can do both at once, but I'm not sure if anything did go wrong, in the way your thinking of. Given the unique nature of Mr. Constantine's contracts, and your complete and rightful ownership, I suspect that the magic in all of the contracts simply merged, destroying the physical manifestations of the contracts and simply anchored themselves on you."
"Okay," said Danny, "so... what does that mean? Can I get rid of it?"
"Great one, I am afraid you are going to have to get used to the idea of, well..."
"No," said Danny, "no, no. It was going to be temporary. I was just going to-- It was going to be like a prank! I'd show up, boss him around a bit, teach him a moral lesson - like what Clockwork does, you know - then give it back! I can't for serious own someone! That's slavery! I can't do that to a person!"
"You don't have to do anything with it," said Frostbite, trying to be comforting. "You can ignore it completely... Although, I suppose it'll be a bit harder after he dies..."
"What happens when he dies?"
"Well, I suppose I should congratulate you on your first, ah, sworn vassal?"
"Are you just saying vassal to avoid saying thrall?"
Frostbite shrugged.
Danny groaned. "What am I going to do?"
"Perhaps tell Mr. Constantine his immortality scam is no longer in effect," suggested Frostbite. "And enjoy yourself. In the meantime, I will look into... potential solutions."
"Okay," said Danny. "Okay. I'll... do that."
.
Danny exited the portal and immediately realized that he had no idea how to contact John Constantine. Curse his inability to think things through or plan ahead. He thunked his head against the side of the portal.
He had a lot of work ahead of him.
"So," said Jazz, spinning on the computer chair, "is this when I tell you I--"
"You told me so, I get it, I get it. Ughhh."
"Yeah, yeah, sorry, even I have to gloat now and again. How can I help?"
"You'll help?"
"Yeah, if you tell me what went wrong."
Danny cringed. "It's more like what went right."
.
"I can't believe you actually own a dude now," said Tucker, tapping away at his computer.
"Don't say it like that. I was going to give it back to him! And I'm not going to, like, make him do anything... except maybe show me the Watchtower... At least this way he's not going to get tortured when he dies?"
"That's real thin, dude, but I forgive you. I know you don't want to own a dude."
"I really don't want to own a dude. It was supposed to be a joke, and now it's a magically binding nonsense thing."
"Yep. Sounds like the story of our lives. Maybe next time don't mess with demon stuff."
"I was going to give it back!"
"Uh huh, I know you were buddy," said Tucker. "Wow. This guy is more of a ghost than you are."
.
Eventually, Danny decided the best course of action was to take a bus down to DC and walk up to the reception desk. It was also the worst course of action, because it meant he had to go to DC, and all the planning and excuses involved in that, but beggars can't be choosers.
"Hi," he said, pasting on his best smile. "I'm, uh, I'm looking for John Constantine."
"Okay, do you know what tour he's with?"
"No, he's a League member, um. I need to pass him a message."
"Oh," said the receptionist. "I'm not sure if anyone by that name is here right now. If you have an emergency, or need to report a crime--"
"No, no, I just need to send a message. Here. Please?" He handed over an envelope that contained a letter that should explain everything.
.
John strolled into the Watchtower, having been bullied into going to a meeting by Zatanna.
"Hey! Constantine! Check your mail, it's overflowing!"
He waved them off as an acknowledgement. What could be in his mail, anyway?
An envelope thrown like a shuriken hit him in the back of the head. "Seriously, it's becoming a problem!"
John glared at the spandex-wearing idiot, but picked up the letter and made a show of opening the letter. He grabbed the piece of paper inside and froze as he sensed the faint touch of magic on it. With a somewhat greater sense of urgency, he pulled out the letter.
Dear Mr. Constantine, started the letter.
I own your soul.
"Ah," said John. "Bollocks."
.
.
.
Might do more of this later, but... I don't really know much about Constantine or DC, so... if anyone wants to pick it up... :)
"Okay. I will admit, that maybe it wasn't very well thought out." Danny fiddles with the cup of milk (seriously?) they provided him with, for lack of a better view.
Seriously. They let him on the super-secret space station for this conversation, but the meeting room they stick him in doesn't even have a window.
"In my defense, my intentions were pure." well. "My intentions were 80% pure." he admits, maybe exaggerating by an amount between 15 and 30 percent, "But! My intentions were 100% non-malicious, and I think that's what really counts."
Mr. Constantine pinches the bridge of his nose, "Right. Sure. Of course. You're, what, 12?"
"16." Danny interjects.
"What the ffffheck is a kid your age doing getting into the soul trade?" Mr. Constantine continues, like he hadn't said anything.
And, well. Danny had promised to give this guy problems. It helps that he's annoying. Sucks for him, though, because Danny can do annoying too.
"Are you familiar with Phineas and Ferb?"
"What."
"Phineas and Ferb. The cartoon."
"What."
"Alright, that's fair. It's an American cartoon and you're British or something. I wouldn't expect you to know it. The basic gist is that there are one hundred and four days of summer vacation, 'til school comes along, just to end it." he recites, not singing, "so, as you can imagine, the annual problem for our generation is finding a good way to spend it."
"By collecting nearly 2000 soul contracts from various demons?"
"And eBay vendors. Yeah." Danny nods, "As you do."
Mr. Constantine inhales very slowly, and exhales even slower. "As you do. Y'know what? forget I asked; I don't care anymore. Second question: how?"
"How what?" If ever there was a time to play dumb. It's now.
"How did you collect nearly 2000 soul contracts from--"
"From the eBay vendors?" Danny interrupts, "It was pretty straightforward. I have a rich friend who is always up for shenanigans."
"From the demons. The very dangerous demons with armies of the damned who like to eat the souls of stupid little kids for breakfast?"
Well Danny doesn't appreciate those implications.
"What, like it's hard?"
silence.
"I mean, really, it was more tedious than anything."
Nothing.
"Like, did you seriously have to sell your soul one thousand nine hundred forty-eight times? I gotta say, it gets old."
ugh. This guy.
"Anyways. The small-fry, I asked politely. The medium-fry, I kicked their butts until they asked politely. The big-fry... I mostly just stole from."
"Stole from."
"Yeah. They seriously need to upgrade their security. It was like the magical-slash-demonic equivalent of the guy-with-a-clipboard walking-with-purpose thing?"
"You know you've probably just made some very powerful enemies?"
"Eh." Danny waves a dismissive hand, "I'll kick their butts eventually."
Seriously. Hyper-powerful torture-happy maniacs just running loose? Not contained in magical coma-coffins? Seems like a problem that needs fixing sooner or later. And unfortunately, Danny is most likely the one for the job. Ugh.
Besides, It was Clockwork who told him to steal from them, so there's probably a Greater Good to work towards in the immediate future. And it never hurts to have help from the guy who controls time itself.
"Right, great! Well if you're just the world's best bloody demon-wrangler I guess I'll leave you to it!"
"Alright, sure. Sounds good." Danny sips at his milk.
Ah gross, it got warm.
"Jesus fucking Christ up a chimney." Mr. Constantine mutters darkly, making to storm out of the room.
Sensing their meeting's imminent end, Danny sets down his lukewarm milk and shifts to his feet, "Right, well. I'll keep an eye out for loopholes to give you your soul back. If I cross paths with an angel I'll be sure to ask."
Mr. Constantine does the full-body equivalent of a stutter, "If you 'cross paths' with a bloody angel."
"I'll ask around. See if I can't figure out where they hang out." It'll probably be good to have a few on his side when he inevitably ends up fighting the bigger demons.
"You're mad, aren't you? Just completely batshit insane." The door to their meeting room slides open, "Oh! Perfect! One batshit to another! I'm out!"
Mr. Constantine elbows past the figure in the doorway, and oh holy fuck it's Batman.
"Daniel J. Fenton," Batman, the Batman, knows his name, "Amity Park, Illinois, 'the most haunted city in the world.'"
"It really is."
"I'd like a word."
.
"Jazz Holy Fuck!"
"Danny! Don't kick my door open! And language!"
"You'll never guess who the Justice League's new Junior Paranormal Consultant is."
Phantom in this au is his own person- or ghost I guess (yes I changed his design a bit to fit more with him being a full ghost)
Phantom’s whole ghost shtick is being a superhero, fighting bad guys and saving people. For the most part he’s just as dramatic as most of the other ghosts, but there are a few things that set him apart. He’s very witty during fights but when it comes to anything besides his hero persona Phantom’s shy and flighty, literally. He’s got all the abilities he normally would as a ghost, but instead of ice this version of Phantom has electricity powers cause why not✨
That’s pretty much all I’ve got for now since I’m still working on lore, might make a longer post breaking down characters and story elements later tho since people really seem to be interested in this au like holy shit I didn’t see that coming
Danny didn’t turn around and instead began walking back towards the house. His posture was stiff, rumpled sweatpants nearly falling off his thin form. From where she stood, Alicia could see his hands shaking.
“Danny, please,” she whispered. “Does this have to do with what your parents—”
“Don’t.”
His voice was cold and quiet, yet the single syllable seemed to echo much longer than what should be possible. The woods around her house seemed more distant, rustling trees coming to a stop.
“Wh—”
“Don’t bring up my parents.”
He walked the distance of Alicia’s backyard and let the screen door slam behind him.
Alicia kneeled and examined the now-frozen weed eater chain.
He’d asked her not to use it. There had been a distant look on his face, terror seeping into his features, and he’d said it reminded him too much of what happened that night.
Alicia should have listened.
She threw the weed eater over her shoulder and lugged it back to the shed.
She didn’t know what was wrong with Danny, but she knew enough not to provoke whatever demons resided within her nephew.
stormborns
dailybridgerton
dededos
theartofmadeline
kaledo-art
romaincrisis
