Ectoberweek Day 31: He thought he'd been prepared to take off the mask on the hazmat suit and see what he looked like underneath. He couldn't have been more wrong.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
He thought he'd been prepared to take off the mask on the hazmat suit and see what he looked like underneath. He couldn't have been more wrong. The portal messed him up more than he thought.
Notes:
Finally finished Ectoberhaunt/Ectoberweek! I am SO PROUD OF MYSELF! This is the first time I've ever done an october/danny phantom event and I did EVERY DAY! A huge feat for me aaaaaa ;0;
Danny stood in front of the mirror, his fingers trembling as they hovered over the fasteners of his hazmat suit. His heart pounded in his chest, the rhythm unnatural, more of a low thrum than a proper beat. He had convinced himself that he was ready for this, that after weeks of sleepless nights, of nightmares and flashes of what had happened in the portal, he could finally face the truth.
Just a glance, he told himself. A brief peek to confirm that he was still himself under all of this — under the glowing eyes, the strange strength, and the eerie stillness of his pulse. It was just a precautionary suit, after all, something to contain his energy when he fought ghosts. At least, that’s what he had convinced himself it was. But now, as his fingers slowly undid the clasp, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible awaited him beneath.
The latch clicked open, and Danny felt his breath hitch in his throat. He wasn’t breathing, not really — not since the accident. He was pretending to breathe. The reality of that settled in the pit of his stomach, cold and unyielding, like a stone lodged where his warmth should be.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Danny peeled the suit away from his body. His eyes, glowing a harsh ectoplasmic green, locked onto the mirror.
At first, he saw that he had unusual pale skin, the white hair that had replaced his once-dark locks, and the faint glow that always seemed to cling to him in his ghost form. But as the suit fell away completely, his reflection twisted. Shifted.
His skin… no, it wasn’t skin anymore.
Danny’s breath—or the shallow imitation of it—caught in his throat. His face, his chest, his arms, his entire body, charred and burned, was revealed. Blackened skin, cracked and mottled like the surface of scorched earth, stretched over his bones. Green ectoplasm pulsed through the cracks, like veins of molten fire running just beneath his surface. His fingers twitched, and the motion caused flakes of charred flesh to crumble from his hands, only to be replaced by more seeping ectoplasm.
Oh God.
His eyes widened, horror seizing him as he stumbled back, hitting the bathroom wall. His reflection followed, the sickening reality of what he’d become staring back at him. This wasn’t just a ghost form. This wasn’t just some new transformation.
This was him — his real body.
“What… what the hell…” Danny whispered, though his voice cracked, barely audible. He reached a shaking hand toward his face, his fingers brushing against the charred remains of his cheek. The sensation was numb, like touching something distant, not really his own skin. His heart, that dull thrumming echo of a heartbeat, sped up, each pulse a painful reminder of the accident in the ghost portal.
Memories flooded back in fragmented flashes. The screams, the burning sensation, the searing light that had enveloped him when the portal had torn open and ripped through his body. He had never really seen what he looked like after the accident — he’d never wanted to. He had convinced himself that his ghost form was just another side of him, a reflection of his powers, of the energy that had saved him from the brink of death.
But he hadn’t been saved.
He had died.
The boy who had entered that portal was dead, reduced to ash and embers. What stood before him now was something else entirely—something that only wore Danny Fenton’s face when the hazmat suit was on. But beneath it, there was nothing human left.
Just this… charred, hollow corpse.
Danny’s legs gave out beneath him, and he slid to the floor, his back pressed against the cold tile wall. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of his twisted reflection, but he couldn’t unsee it. The truth had sunk in, deep into his core.
He was no longer the boy who lived. He was the boy who had died. Everything since that accident, everything he had tried to hold onto—his family, his friends, his life—had been a lie. Phantom wasn’t just a mask or a persona. It was all that remained.
He let out a shaky breath, or at least tried to. It caught in his throat, more of a rasp than anything else. What would his parents say if they saw him like this? If they knew the truth of what had happened to their son? Would they even recognize him as Danny, or would they see him as just another ghost — just another monster to be hunted and destroyed?
He pressed his hand to his chest, feeling the unnatural smoothness of his charred skin, the faint vibration of ectoplasm flowing beneath it like blood. It was a grotesque mockery of life. He wasn’t healing, wasn’t recovering from this. This was him now. This was all he had left.
Tears pricked at his eyes, but even they were tinged green, drops of ectoplasm that burned as they rolled down his cheeks. He looked up at his reflection once more, his glowing eyes locking with the hollow, scorched thing staring back at him.
And for the first time since the accident, Danny Phantom understood just how much he had truly lost.
He wasn’t prepared to take off the mask — not now, not ever. Because the mask, the suit, the human skin he hid behind, was all that kept him tethered to the life he so desperately wanted to return to.
But the truth had always been waiting beneath. A truth as blackened and charred as the body he now inhabited.
Redrew these guys. And guess what?! I now have a YouTube channel! I did speed paints of both of these guys and they’re uploaded there! It’s Evan TheBOSS920
