#danny fantom

[sorensouls]

He's a phantom

[distantlydreamingofwater]

Imagine if Jazz goes to Gotham to work at Arkham and Joker decides to make her his new Harley. Except when the bats get there to stop him, Danny is beating the shit out of joker with a creep stick, muttering to himself about how all clowns are evil, while Jazz watches and just sighs while lecturing danny about positive coping skills during a PTSD episode. Jason cant decide which Fenton he wants more. The crazy clown killer or the nonchalant therapist who looks like she can see his soul.

[lady-of-threads]

There are many fanfictions where Danny, as the Ghost King, is summoned by various cults, and thus he meets the Justice League or the BatFamily. However, you know what I've never seen? Danny's complete hysteria in this situation

What am I talking about? Usually, if a sacrifice is used in a ritual, they're still alive by the time Danny arrives, so the king can collect the offering himself. Or there might be no sacrifices at all. Or Danny might become super-cool and immune to sacrifices, and since he's the king of the dead, why would he be afraid of corpses? However, I strongly disagree with

Think about it! When Danny overthrew Pariah, he was only about 15 years old in the cartoon's timeline. Did he see people with abrasions? Yes, often. Burns? Constantly on the bodies of his friends who had been shot by the GIW or the Fentons. Any dirt? Maybe, but only ghosts, and ghosts, firstly, green, which makes the brain perceive this dirt differently, secondly, a ghost can flatten, and he immediately returns to his original form, although just now he was a puddle. Can a people do this? No.

And now, imagine, the news that the King has changed spreads among the cults. Some particularly dubious cult immediately decides to "establish connections" with the new King, and for this, of course, they need the most beautiful sacrifice they can offer. The League is too late, and a number of people have already been brutally slashed in the ritual, perhaps even having their heads impaled on stakes. Danny is called upon, and he is a teenager who has never seen anything like this before

And so the Justice League gets to meet an incredibly powerful teenager, the Ghost King, who is hysterical, maybe even trapped in a ritual circle with the bodies, and it only makes things worse. No one expected this reaction from the Ghost King, and the League is already starting the "victim" protocol in his direction, and all they want to do right now is get the boy out of the traumatic situation and figure out what the hell is going on.

[redelliavalentinos]

The Lost Paladin

It's a little rough. I'm really just chasing an idea. Maybe the castle has a catacombs of sorts... maybe a Black Wulf stashed within...? Eh? Eh?

I'm thinking either Keith or Lance just stumbles upon it, all powered down, paint job completely worn off and just bare metal, and this ghostly paladin just appears. Meh, it's a work in progress.

I'm sorry my Black Wulf design sucks.

...yes, Wulf, not Wolf.

I don't know, people. Am I finishing this piece?

[mechanical-frog-ghost]

human teenager danny fenton THROWS HANDS

[teapotofbees]

The Divine Right of Kings is Phantom’s Curse

Inspired by this idea and credit to writing-is-a-martial-art

“You will wear the crown, you have no choice the spikes growing on your head have a metal sheen to them and coalesce into a mock halo.”

It started as a crown of light and fire; a halo over his head, a blessing of power.

He didn’t want it.

He tried to avoid it; the ghosts that raged at him and begged at him. That is, until the crown became bone with spikes growing towards his head. Turns out, it doesn’t matter what he wants.

His blood is cursed for bearing a king’s title that he never asked for.

“You will command, for your voice is a terrible thing, you are a terrible thing.”

Phantom is a terrible thing. A boy turned into a ghost, twisted into a king, forced to be a defender and a tyrant and a savior and a leader of armies.

Ghosts are known now, hunted like never before. A king must defend his territory and protect his people, no matter the cost.

When the shadow crests over the hill and you see ectoplasm shining on bone, run before you hear his wail.

“You will be just, and you will be fair, for any grievances you cause to your people scar your body and leave lasting pain and false promises sizzle on your tongue like hot oil.”

A shadow of lightning and ice, a head crowned in bone and metal that dig into his skull. Every promise holds a weight and every action must have reason.

He inherited a broken kingdom. Ghost cities razed to the ground and territories torn asunder by the previous tyrant.

He inherited a fractured people. Hierarchies formed from greed and oppression, ghosts forced to wander the realms in constant battle to defend their existence.

Now it’s his duty to set it to rights or suffer the consequences if he tries to resist.

“Your god is watching and it won't forget what your ancestor did and it won't let you go.”

All that Danny wanted to do was save his town. Now he’s a king bearing the curse of his predecessor. It’s a promise and a chant that wraps around his core:

Do not become the same. Do better. Be better.

Is it the Ancients that have cursed him? But they never lifted a finger to help the denizens of the Infinite Realms as they tore each other apart in the time of Pariah Dark’s long sleep.

Or rather, is this the collective will of the people he now has to protect? Is this their plea, their prayer, their revenge? For centuries longer than Phantom has existed, the ghosts of the Infinite Realms have had time to resent and despair and dream a better tomorrow.

But it takes time to heal a kingdom.

And it takes even longer still to heal a territory as infinitely vast and as infinitely broken as the Realms.

So Phantom grits his teeth and swallows his own dreams, lest the hot oil bruns down his throat and his crown digs spikes into his skull.

It is is pleasure, his devine right, to serve the people that cursed him.

[oladka-art]

Small cutie 🥰

[whos-the-seme]

Danny who arrives in Gotham because he needed a place to run to and it had the next highest levels of ambient ectoplasm outside of Amity. He soon realizes that, while there is a ton of ectoplasm everywhere, he can't absorb it.

Any of it.

Normally, his core automatically filters any ectoplasm and consumes it. But something about the city prevents the usual method of passive absorption, something he only realizes a week into his stay.

He had ignored his growing feelings of lethargy, assuming it was from healing the vivisection scars he refused to think about. He didn't realize his sunken cheeks weren't because he was definitely not getting enough to eat.

He looks down at the flattened sandwich in his hands, given to him by an elderly woman at the local bodega. She had eyed him suspiciously at first, but something in her face had softened upon seeing on how wild his eyes were. She had offered him the sandwich, waving him off when he tried to protest, saying that it would've been tossed out at the end of her shift, anyway.

Danny scarfed down the sandwich, trying to stave off the ever-growing hunger that wouldn't go away. He then curled up in his ragged sleeping bag, situated in an empty room on the top floor of an abandoned building, and tried to go to sleep. He hoped his stomach would have calmed by the time he woke.

He only realizes how wrong he was when he wakes up in a cemetery, covered in fresh grave dirt and mouth painted a radiant green.

---

Okay.

As Danny comes to figure out, it is actually horrifically difficult to build something that would allow him to filter ectoplasm out of the air. He only had a few tools at his disposal and, though he had eyed his Fenton Thermos, he had decided against tinkering with it for now.

There was no telling what would happen if he took it apart and wasn't able to put it back together.

He might lose the last slips that he had left of his sanity.

He didn't want to become that again.